Tracy and I were sitting in the den last night when a car pulled up. I was reading a book (Twilight Series) and Tracy was doing needlepoint while the television incessantly droned on. Maggie went absolutely nuts and bonkers so that meant it was either my father or Charlie or both. It was Charlie.
“Come on and ride with me to go get some gas,” Charlie said, feeling lonesome. “Then we will get us a drink off the dollar menu at McDonald’s.”
Charlie said hello to Tracy and turned his attentions to Maggie. Maggie was in ecstasy as Charlie rubbed and petted her.
“Let me get my coat,” I said, jumping at this chance to spend some time with my friend.
I grabbed my coat off the bed in the computer room and headed to the front door.
“We’ll only be gone about an hour,” Charlie told Tracy. “I won’t keep him away from you for long.”
“Y’all go have some fun!” Tracy replied, smiling.
Well, the traveling fair is in town and Charlie slowed way down to look at it and all the pretty lights as we passed on highway 29. A car behind us got to impatiently honking their horn because we were going so slow. Charlie shot them the bird and said, “Go around me assholes!”. Charlie’s driving is mediocre at best and can scare you. He swerved in his lane during all the commotion and I grabbed the “oh shit!” bar as if my life depended upon it.
We stopped and got some gas for the Caprica, not before looking at a few stations for the best price on regular unleaded. Charlie and I got on the subject of my ex-wife as we stood by the pump.
“She wasn’t just Mrs. Perfect either,” Charlie said which made me feel better. “Tracy and you are a much better match! Rachel was just too high strung and wanted to control you.”
Next was McDonald’s just across the street from the gas station. Charlie and I both got us a large dollar diet Coke. Boy, did that Coke taste delicious. We then headed towards home.
“What did you and Tracy eat for supper?” Charlie asked as he drove.
“We had shrimp and broccoli fettuccini,” I replied. “It was pretty good.”
“Well, I had peas and cornbread!” Charlie replied. “I don’t eat shrimp and I don’t think I have ever had a fettuccini.”
“You got the better meal,” I told him honestly. “I would die for some peas and cornbread!”
Janice, Charlie’s wife, cooks like Helen always cooked for us.
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