“I have a DJ gig tomorrow night and I need gas money.” The fruit of my womb bats his Saniflush-blue eyes at me.

“Do I look dumb?” (I do, I know: fat as a tick on a skinny dog, hair looking like I combed it with a blender.)

“What’s that supposed to mean?” So indignant!

“Nice tattoo. New?” Looks like he spilled paint on his lap and then tossed a match on it to burn it off.

“Sarah got one just like it.” Flinging his atheist-Jesus hair out of his eyes.

“I thought you two broke up.”

“We did. But she kinda came around last night…” Grin.

“I don’t want to know.” Frown.

“Right. So the gig is in Greenville.”

“Greenville, huh?”

“Yep.”

I pat my pockets.

“I don’t have any cash.”

“I’ll pay you back.”

We both smile.

# # #

Peri Dwyer Worrell grew up on a Puerto Rican street in New York, gaining a keen appreciation of diversity, tolerance, and taking no crap from anyone. After 30 years as a physician, Peri expatriated to Latin America. Peri now writes books, poetry, and travel blogs, and edits science articles freelance. www.consistentprinciples.wordpress.com

Photo: Andressa Voltolini