April 1984
I wasted too much time at the sandwich counter waiting for Sean to come out of the bathroom. The counter guy came by twice and said, “Where’d your dad get to?”
“The bathroom.” That’s what I said both times.
“He’s been gone a while, hasn’t he?”
I shrugged, like Wavy, because what was I supposed to do? Sean always took a long time in the bathroom. Sometimes I had to go get him, and he’d be asleep on the toilet with his needle in his arm.
So the counter guy wouldn’t ask me again, I got up and walked over to the gas station. That’s when I saw the postcards. I ran out to the car and looked for money. We didn’t have the Corvette anymore and the new car smelled bad under the seats, like gas and rotten stuff. The carpet was sticky from where somebody spilled a pop. Not me.
I found enough for the postcard, a pretty one of the Grand Canyon that Sean said we didn’t have time to see, but I didn’t have enough money for the card and a stamp. The lady at the cash register said, “That’s okay. I can spot you four cents.” She was nice. I was glad I didn’t steal the card.
Then I had to borrow a pen, because that was how life was with Sean. I liked it better when I lived with Sandy. I didn’t always have to beg or steal things.
I wrote as fast as I could, but I didn’t want it to be messy.
Dear Wavy, we had to move and I don’t know where yet. I will write to you again when I know where. See you soon. Love, Donal.
“Who’re you writing to, sweetie?” the cashier lady said.
“My sister.”
“That’s nice.”
I wished she would be quiet, because it was hard to remember Aunt Brenda’s address. Before I could write the zip code, Sean put his hand on my shoulder.
“Whatcha doing, Don?”
“He’s such a cutie. He’s writing his sister a postcard.”
“Come on, buddy. You can finish that in the car,” he said.
In the parking lot, he took the postcard and put it in the trash. He squeezed my shoulder hard and said, “Don, didn’t we talk about how it’s not safe for you to write to your sister?”
“I didn’t tell her where we were,” I said.
“I don’t want you sneaking around behind my back like that again. Do you understand?”
I nodded. Wavy was right. Sometimes you have to nod, even if you don’t agree. She was right about a lot of things.