Page 120 of Error Handling

“Missouri. That’s where I’m from.”

“Oh, well I’m just two states over, past a few dozen corn fields.”

“At least that many,” I say.

“And how long have you been in Charleston?”

“Three years.”

“The same as Sarah. I thought she was crazy to come down here to study painting of all things, but it looks like maybe one good thing has come out of it.”

Is that a compliment?

An awkward silence falls between us. I clear my throat as I try to formulate my next sentence. Luckily, Patricia takes it upon herself to move things forward.

“Maybe you could stop by later for dinner,” she says.

“I already told you,” Sarah says. “Mary is fixing a big dinner. We’re eating there.”

“I leave tomorrow,” Patricia says.

“So does Dad,” Sarah replies.

Patricia huffs.

“It’s Dad’s turn.”

“Fine, I’ll just continue my walk, then. You two love birds enjoy the beach. It was nice to meet you, Chris.”

“The same,” I say.

Patricia spins on the balls of her feet and heads south. When she’s out of earshot, I say, “I guess we should turn around and go back.”

“Ya think?” Sarah says.

After we’ve passed a couple of boardwalks, I try to think of something appropriate to say. “Your mom seems...”

“Rude?”

“She’s not shy,” I say.

“Unfortunately.”

“I take it your mom and dad don’t get along?”

“Understatement.”

Judging by Sarah’s one-word comments, I take it she doesn’t want to talk about her family. Her arms are still crossed, and her shoulders are scrunched by her ears.

“Should we try a swim?” I ask.

“Are you kidding?”

“That boy seems to be having a good time.” I point to the elementary-aged boy diving headfirst into the waves and letting the force of the water push him back to sea.

“He must have skin as thick as a wetsuit,” Sarah says. “Or a cow. Have you ever wondered how cows can stand outside in the freezing cold chewing their cud like it’s eighty degrees in July?”

“I have, actually.