Redhead by the Side of the Road - Anne Tyler Page 0,15

“Oh, nothing much.”

“You want to come in?”

“Sure,” Brink said. He shuffled his feet on the mat and then followed Micah into the kitchen.

“Had a good day?” Micah asked him.

“Oh, yeah. I found a library.”

“A library,” Micah said.

“I went and sat there.”

Did he mean he’d spent the whole day sitting there? Micah didn’t want to ask; it might open some can of worms he’d rather not get into. He waved toward the kitchen table and said, “Take a seat, why don’t you. Want a beer? Or maybe…I don’t know,” he said, because he remembered then that Brink wasn’t of age.

But Brink said, “Beer would be good,” and Micah didn’t argue with him. He took a Natty Boh from the fridge and handed it over. Then he returned to the counter and scraped the mashed garlic into the chili pot. “One onion, chopped,” he said. His least favorite part of the process.

Behind him, he heard the pfft! of the beer-can tab.

“I was reading this book about the Orioles,” Brink said after a moment. “Gosh, they’ve been playing a long time.”

“That they have,” Micah said.

“Since 1901, if you count when they were the Brewers.”

“The Milwaukee Brewers?” Micah asked.

“Right.”

Micah turned to look at him. Brink was tipping his chair back, cradling his beer can in both hands.

“But, so, they must not have been the Orioles, then,” Micah told him.

“No, for that you have to go to 1953.”

“Ah.”

Micah resumed chopping the onion.

“Their heyday, though, came in the sixties,” Brink said.

“Really,” Micah said. He scraped the onion into the pot and stirred everything around. Already he could smell that cumin-y smell that reminded him of stale sweat.

“You’ve really done your research,” he told Brink.

“I had some time on my hands,” Brink said.

Micah waited until he’d started the ground beef browning before he spoke again. Then he took another beer from the fridge and sat down in the other chair. “You feel like having supper here?” he asked finally.

“That’d be great!” Brink said. He let his chair tip forward with a thud.

“It’s only chili,” Micah told him. “And I’ve got my woman friend coming. Cass.”

“Chili would be great!” Brink said. “And I’d love to meet Cass!”

Micah said, “So…”

Brink took on a wary look.

“So what’s going on here, exactly?” Micah asked.

“Going on?”

“I mean, school’s in session now, isn’t it? You’re not on some kind of fall break or something.”

“Not really,” Brink said.

Micah popped the tab on his beer. Then he said, “Where is Montrose College, anyhow?”

He hated having to ask, but Brink didn’t take offense. “It’s in Virginia,” he said. “Just over the other side of DC.”

“You live in a dorm there? Or commute from home.”

“Oh, God, no. I’m in a dorm. Who would want to commute?”

“Right,” Micah said. He took a swig of his beer.

“Speaking of which,” Brink said, “I don’t suppose you happen to have a spare bed I could maybe crash on.”

“Here?” Micah was taken aback.

“Or just a couch, even. Your couch would be fine,” Brink said, and he shot a glance toward the living area.

“Well…I do have a sort of guest room, I guess,” Micah said.

“Great! Cuz it’s kind of late now for me to catch a train.”

It wasn’t even dusk yet. The trains ran till nearly midnight. But Micah didn’t point that out. He slid his chair back and stood up to stir the chili. “You got any luggage?” he called over the sizzling sound of the meat.

“No, I…wasn’t really thinking ahead.”

There was a pause. Then, “One can of kidney beans,” Micah said, “rinsed and drained.”

“Sure smells good,” Brink told him.

“I ought to cook the beans