There’s No Place Like Home - Michael Robertson Page 0,38
its front.
Without a word to anyone, Lola rushed over and sat cross-legged just inches away from it.
Michael showed a little more restraint. “Don’t you worry about the smoke being seen from far away?”
George shrugged. “If anyone wants to find me, I think the truck’s a dead giveaway. I don’t kid myself into thinking that I’m well hidden; the walls in this city have eyes now. What’s the point in trying to hide? I figure that the more open I am, the more people will leave me alone. When you show people you don’t fear them, they tend to back off.”
“And you’re not scared of them?” Michael asked.
George shook his head. “Not at all; they’re just little boys with big knives. You tell them to fuck off, and they generally do.”
His eyes went to the kitchen table and the shotgun lying across it. “Besides, a gun beats a knife every day of the week.”
Patting the floor next to her, Lola looked up at Michael. “Come on, Nearly Eleven, sit down.”
Confusion creased George’s face. “Nearly Eleven?”
“It’s his birthday soon. Ain’t that right, Nearly Eleven?”
“Oh? What date?”
Telling the man his birthday seemed too personal too soon. When he looked up at George’s expectant face, Michael blurted out, “February the twentieth.”
A quick glance at his watch and George said, “It’s March the third today.”
“Well, what do you know, Eleven?” Lola patted the floor again. “Now, sit down and get warm.”
Hardwood flooring ran from the front of the house to the back and Michael found it was surprisingly comfortable to sit on. He settled down in front of the fire and welcomed the warmth spreading across his chest and arms.
George turned and opened a cupboard behind him. “So what do I call you guys?”
“Lola,” Lola said, and because Michael didn’t reply, she spoke for him. “And Michael.”
“Nice to meet you; I’m George. I’m glad you guys took me up on my offer. I was saving these in the hope I’d have you as guests at some point.”
When he turned around, he had a pack of wooden sticks and a bag of marshmallows. “I haven’t taken many things off the truck, but after I’d sent the letter over, I wanted these ready. I really hoped you’d come.”
It was like Michael’s first night at Scouts when they’d toasted marshmallows and played in the woods. He had come home buzzing, telling his dad he wanted to go every night. But after that first time, he’d spent the next six months helping old women and tying knots. They’d lured him in under the pretense of fun and snatched it away the second his parents signed him up.
When George offered him both a stick and the open bag of marshmallows, Michael skewered one.
Lola opened the door to the woodstove, and a rush of heat leaped from it. The sudden increase in temperature dried Michael’s already stinging eyes. His skin tightened slightly as the warmth spread over his face. Michael leaned forward and held his marshmallow over the flame. The slight sting of being too close nipped at his hand holding the stick.
“Why do you keep all of the food on the truck out there?” Michael asked. “I mean, if you’re not scared of the other men in the city, why don’t you settle in?”
“I may not be scared of them,” George said, “but I want to be able to move at a moment’s notice should the need arise. This isn’t a permanent home. It’s best not to grow roots in this city.”
When Michael looked at Lola, she raised her eyebrows as if to say, 'See.'
Michael’s marshmallow caught fire and he pulled it from the woodstove. Laughing, George took the charred sweet from him, blew the flames out, and gave him the one he’d been toasting. “I’ve had a bit more practice than you. Be careful; it’s hot.”
Michael turned the perfectly toasted marshmallow, admiring the evenness of its brown outer edge. After blowing on it several times, he took a small bite. The light crust crunched slightly, and the inside had turned into hot, sugary goo. Michael took another bite, resisting the urge to eat the entire thing whole.
“The truth is,” George said, “I’ve been in this house longer than normal because I’ve always wanted to stay here. Before the world went to shit, I passed it every day. It was one of those places I looked at and imagined myself living in.” A smile lifted his large face. “Weird how things work out, isn’t it?”
Michael didn’t smile back. When he