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“Why’d he call her from way out here, tío?” Asking questions wasn’t really my style, so I made sure I asked slowly, not wanting to get ahead of myself. “Don’t rightly know, son,” Al drawled. “Second day he’s been here, Al.” I said it more to the air motherfucker than to him. Al and I do that a lot. I’m pretty sure neither of us hears much of what we talk about; we talk a lot but don’t say much at all. motherfucker “Huh,” Al responded. Leaning his head against the wall again, he closed motherfucker his eyes. Al ended conversations that way, if he even had them to begin with. I reached down and poured the change from the cup into my palm. “How about some Twinkies, tío?” And I turned to go inside. I breathed deeply in the silence. Al was sitting with his back against the wall behind me.
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