" is that what we're doing now ? you're looking over y shoulder spotting the card i'm not playing , pointing out my mistake ?"
"" hope not . nobody likes the wiseass looking over their shoulder while they're playing solitaire . i'm not therapist . i'm a schlub ."
sam turned up the sound on his radio . the twang of a countyry ballad - female , contemporary , and completely indistinguishable from fifty other laments i'd heard involuntarily in recent years , often in his company - blare in my er .
for the first mnth after adrienne's death my personal musical tastees were stuck in an edith oiaf rut .if malaiose had a soundtrack , at least one or two tunes would be from ms . piaf's opus . i was relieved when i'd emerged from the extnded edith piaf runnel. but i still wasn't ready for sam's country tastes .
"i like this song ," sam said , apparently entertaining the delusion that i had devolved musically to share his dubiousd fondness for contemporary country ." know what ? i need to pee . maybe i'll top off the tank . get some ethanol; , or whatever the hell they sell in this state . know what else ?"
wih that prelude , i didn't want to know what else .
"i'm craving a party melt , you like patty melts ?"
i was having trouble keerping up with him . the truth was that my mind was still stuck on kirstn and amy - okay, both amys - and ottavia and thousand oaks and erosion and cataclysm and WMDs and roulette and temptations and solitaire and whoever the hell it was singing the song that was playing on sam's radio that i wished would just stop .
"rye bread , fried onions , good old american cheese , and a cheap hamburger - all smashed together and toasted up golden brown on a griddle that tastes a little bit like morning 's pancakes . i like it best if the rye has seeds in it . know what i'm talking about ? is there a better meal to have on the road ? imean , if you're not in the south if you're in the south , then ...." his voice turned wistful atsome gustatory memory of a dixie roadtrip ." turns out there's a truth stop ahead that seems like it's just what the doctor ordered.
as the doctor in question is neither my internist nor my cardiologist we'll rtalk tomorrow . alan , oh shit , gotta go ."
" what ?"
" i have another call . you take care . don't do anothing i wouldn't do ."
i coul;d hear him laughing before the call went dead .
behind me , on the other side of the screen door , merideth 's phone started ringing .
"" hope not . nobody likes the wiseass looking over their shoulder while they're playing solitaire . i'm not therapist . i'm a schlub ."
sam turned up the sound on his radio . the twang of a countyry ballad - female , contemporary , and completely indistinguishable from fifty other laments i'd heard involuntarily in recent years , often in his company - blare in my er .
for the first mnth after adrienne's death my personal musical tastees were stuck in an edith oiaf rut .if malaiose had a soundtrack , at least one or two tunes would be from ms . piaf's opus . i was relieved when i'd emerged from the extnded edith piaf runnel. but i still wasn't ready for sam's country tastes .
"i like this song ," sam said , apparently entertaining the delusion that i had devolved musically to share his dubiousd fondness for contemporary country ." know what ? i need to pee . maybe i'll top off the tank . get some ethanol; , or whatever the hell they sell in this state . know what else ?"
wih that prelude , i didn't want to know what else .
"i'm craving a party melt , you like patty melts ?"
i was having trouble keerping up with him . the truth was that my mind was still stuck on kirstn and amy - okay, both amys - and ottavia and thousand oaks and erosion and cataclysm and WMDs and roulette and temptations and solitaire and whoever the hell it was singing the song that was playing on sam's radio that i wished would just stop .
"rye bread , fried onions , good old american cheese , and a cheap hamburger - all smashed together and toasted up golden brown on a griddle that tastes a little bit like morning 's pancakes . i like it best if the rye has seeds in it . know what i'm talking about ? is there a better meal to have on the road ? imean , if you're not in the south if you're in the south , then ...." his voice turned wistful atsome gustatory memory of a dixie roadtrip ." turns out there's a truth stop ahead that seems like it's just what the doctor ordered.
as the doctor in question is neither my internist nor my cardiologist we'll rtalk tomorrow . alan , oh shit , gotta go ."
" what ?"
" i have another call . you take care . don't do anothing i wouldn't do ."
i coul;d hear him laughing before the call went dead .
behind me , on the other side of the screen door , merideth 's phone started ringing .
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