Page 131 of A Matter of Time

“Garbage bags. You know, the plastic kind? Hefty or Glad or whatever.”

“Yes, I know what a garbage bag is. Just make me understand.”

“Okay. See, when I was little, it was a luxury item. We used the plastic bags they packed our groceries in to put trash in because real garbage bags were at the bottom of the list. My grandmother lived on her Social Security, and the state helped her with food stamps for me. That was all there was, so… But the little bags broke all the time, and sometimes all we had were the brown paper ones. It was a mess.”

“And what?”

“So now I keep, like, four different sizes of garbage bags at all times. I completely freak if I run out of them. I feel like I’m back there in the trailer park.”

“But you loved your grandmother.”

“I did, but I didn’t love being called poor white trash for where I lived. I didn’t love our scary neighbors or never having enough so we could pay the electric bill and eat at the same time. Sometimes at the end of the month all we had was rice and beans.”

“Which is probably why you don’t eat either.”

“Probably.”

“Huh. Garbage bags.”

“Yep. Any size you need, I’ve got you covered. I even have lawn bags.”

“You don’t have a lawn.”

“So not the point.”

He laughed softly and then let out a deep breath. “We’re both deeply flawed.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

“Well, if no leftovers and a variety of garbage bags is the extent of our neuroses, then I’m fine with it.”

“Okay,” Dane agreed with me.

“Okay.”

“Are you tired?”

“No, why?”

“I don’t feel like going home.”

“You wanna hang out with me?”

He shrugged, and I smiled because he did.

“Did it hurt when Sabine slapped you?”

“Could we stop revisiting this topic?”

I almost cackled. “Open mouth, insert foot.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Your friends are gonna give you so much shit.”

He groaned loudly, and I asked him what he wanted to do.