Oregon Hill (36 page)

“Then he quiets right down,” Peggy said. “Me, I’d just tell him to shut the fuck up.”

R.P., Andy, Abe and I got together yesterday for breakfast at Joe’s. By then the first four parts of the series had been digested. R.P. and Andy tried to get me to tell them how the story was going to end, as did a couple of other patrons who recognized me.

I told them they’d have to read it in the paper, just like everybody else.

Andi has changed restaurants. The last place didn’t think fear for her life was reason enough to skip work for a couple of days.

“Screw ’em,” she said. “I can always get another job. People gotta eat.” And she was working at a better place in Shockoe Slip about twenty-four hours later. Apparently, waitressing has not been pounded very hard by the recession.

She hasn’t dropped any courses lately, which makes this the best fall she’s had since she enrolled. Of course, she’s only taking two.

I couldn’t help asking her why she doesn’t just get it over with. Four semesters at five courses a semester ought to do it. I’ve got almost enough money to pay for tuition and fees.

She squeezed my hand, actually smiled, and told me that she was still trying to decide what she wants to do. She said she was thinking about psychology.

I squeezed back and didn’t say anything discouraging. Everything wasn’t perfect, I was thinking, but it was perfect enough for me.