After Dakota by Kevin Sharp Read Free Book Online Page A

gum and model paint. She leans in and –
    No! It’s not right anymore. “Sorry,” he says to the ceiling, to God, and to her, if she can hear him.

22
    Cameron and his mom sit in a dim booth of the Mexican cantina, lit by a candle in a decorative red jar. The place has the feel of eating in a cave. This isn’t a special occasion; most of their dinners are frozen, or takeout, or at a restaurant. Cameron’s dad always said, “I didn’t marry her for her cooking.” One year he got her a new microwave oven for Christmas, along with six weeks of microwave cooking classes. To her credit, she tried, before giving up when he moved out. The oven is primarily used now as a fancy water boiler.
    What enthusiasm Molly lacks for cooking, she makes up for in cleaning. If Cameron sets a glass down anywhere in the house, it’s gone in a blink. Her compulsiveness means that she never finishes one job before starting another; wads of paper towels lie scattered around the house like landmines. 409 is the permanent odor in certain rooms.
    The waiter with his string tie appears. “Hola, Molly.”
    “Hola, Ruben. I’d like two blended margaritas,” she says with a wink. “Pronto.” When the drinks arrive – yellow frozen hills in green goblets – she slides one to Cameron. He stares at her. “Oh please, eighteen, twenty-one, what’s the difference?” she says.
    “I’m seventeen.”
    “When I was your age, people could drink at sixteen. I just have to warn you, the margaritas here are strict.” She checks her makeup in a small mirror, dabs her cheek with her napkin. Always cleaning.
    The food arrives, platters coated in melted cheese. Cameron digs in, lightheaded already, everything a little crooked. Their typical conversation gets underway.
    Molly: “How’s your science class?”
    Cameron: “It’s ok.”
    Molly: “Do any of your teachers require you to write in pen?”
    Cameron: “Just Mrs. Gordon.”
    Molly: “What do they serve in the cafeteria these days?”
    Cameron: Shrug.
    And on it goes, covering his other classes, has he gotten any grades yet, asking teachers for college recommendation letters, and whether more kids drive to school or bike. Every time Cameron rolls his eyes she says, “Because you never tell me anything if I don’t ask.” She orders another drink for herself but cuts him off at one.
    This is what he could tell her, if he felt like talking: He’s clearly Mrs. Gordon’s favorite in English, a fact obvious to everyone in the room, even after only two weeks together. She always asks for his comments on the works they read, looks directly at him after explaining (sometimes even clearly) the author’s use of symbolism.
    He could also tell her about the reincarnation of their former neighbor, sitting one desk away. Cameron wants to talk to Rosemary more, but she’s packed and out the door as soon as the bell rings, leaving him only with a “Ciao.” He sits at his desk and watches her black-stocking’d legs stride away. He never knew that term came from England.
    Molly sucks down part of her new drink. “The reason we’re here is because I’ve decided I’m going to start dating and I want to make sure it’s ok with you.”
    “Why wouldn’t it be?”
    “Your father and me…”
    “Father and I .”
    She sticks her yellow tongue at him. “Your father and I haven’t been apart that long.”
    “Mom, it’s been over two years. You know he’s had girlfriends.”
    “Okay, fine. I guess I wasn’t ready before and ek cetera.”
    “Now you are?”
    “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately.” She stirs her drink with the straw, sucks some more. “You’ll be gone soon and maybe I don’t want to be all alone.”
    Cameron pictures her on a date with a lawyer. He’s been to her work a few times – a law office where she answers the phone and files papers – and every man there looks and smells the same. Suits and ties, cologne and breath mints.
    When