Paradise City

“23,” he answered, looking around the parking lot.

There was a silence between us for a couple minutes, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“So,” he asked, propping his cup on the hood between us. “You’re 19, you like quarterstaff, what else should I know about you?” he asked, looking into my eyes.

“Well, that depends wholly on how much you want to know.”

“Well, you said you moved here with your dad. You have any siblings? Tell me about your family.”

I looked into the top of my cup for a minute, trying to think of a response that wouldn’t be either curt or too much information.

“Well,” I told him. “My mom passes when I was 9, and I don’t have any siblings so it’s just me and my dad. We’re pretty tight.”

“Me too,” he said, his eyes twinkling a little. “Well, my mom didn’t pass away, she just left. But it’s just been me and my dad for a long while.”

Another silence.

“What do you like to do?” I asked now.

“Other than quarterstaff?” he asked. “I just mostly help out with my dad’s job. He has me learning the ropes so that’s not much time for anything else anymore.”

“What’s your dad do?” I asked.