Ray Vs the Meaning of Life by Michael F. Stewart

Author:Michael F. Stewart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Publishing House
Published: 2017-11-30T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

Pulled Beef’s quiet. Earlier I heard Tina crying inside, but I gave her some space. Privacy. When I go for my shift, the place is immaculately clean, the counter a mirror, the grill greaseless and the floor as scrubbed as, well . . . there’s only so much you can do for stained and curled linoleum tile.

Tina sits on the floor, thumbing through Dalen’s books. I’d left them scattered there. “What do you think?” she asks. “Think any of this is going to work?”

I pause, about to complain about Dalen, and then stop myself. Her eyes are puffy from crying. “How’s your dad? How are you?”

She shrugs. “Trying to keep busy. Don’t want to think about it.”

We don’t have many customers. Rain falls in a steady sheet, and the only people who come drive up, shouting for a burger from their trucks. It’s not busy, so she cleaned instead. “Maybe I should leave you in charge of the camp?” I say.

“Maybe,” she agrees. “You can focus on figuring out the meaning of life. I’d sure like to know.” A scrap of paper rests as a bookmark between the pages.

We sit listening to the rain. A truck drives past but doesn’t stop.

“Do you think I can figure out the meaning of life?” I ask.

“I think you can do anything you want.”

There’s no humor in her eyes. Part of her reply sounded like an accusation, as if I can, but she can’t.

“That’s part of the problem though, isn’t it. That we can do anything.”

“Not like brain surgeon’s an option.” She laughs, but not cruelly. Not really cruelly.

“Why not? If I work really hard in high school this year, I could graduate with a scholarship to university.” I don’t mind her laughing even if it’s at my expense, not if it makes her feel better. “I’m not saying it for sure would happen, but it could.”

“You’ve got too many choices. Poor you.”

“It’s paralyzing. When I’m gaming, I don’t think about this stuff.”

“Only with me. Lucky me.”

Tina’s angry. I fight the urge to bite back. I struggle for something positive to say. “You make me want to try.” And that’s way too much. I’m shocked at what just came out my mouth.

She bites her lip, and her eyes shimmer. Then she slams the covers of the book together. “That’s nice,” she says. “I gotta go. Dad had another appointment today. Setting up for another line of treatment.”

“Good luck,” I say, and she uses my shoulder to pull herself up. My first thought is, she touched me again. I know I could interpret that as my being a table or something, but I don’t. A band of steel wraps itself around my lungs and doesn’t let up squeezing until she’s gone. For a while I listen to rain patter on the tin roof.

Finally, I push up off the floor, crank up the grill, and start on a Ray Special, frying the onions and garlic before layering in mayo, relish, hot sauce, everything. Then I scoop the mess into a bowl.

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