The Speed Queen by Stewart O’Nan Page A

get dressed. I'd make breakfast and Lamont would go down and get the paper. He liked strawberries cut up on his Cap'n Crunch. We'd listen to the radio while we ate, then lounge around in the living room, moving around the rug with the sun. He liked to look at the classifieds.
    This was right when he was getting ready to sell the 442 and buy the Roadrunner. The 442 reminded him of Alison, so it started reminding me of Alison, and it had to go. He was almost done with it, he just had a little detailing to do. He was going to use the money to buy five pounds of sinsemilla he could sell in half pounds around the college. That way he could restore the Roadrunner and still have some money in the bank. He'd read the classics and sports cars to me. "Fairlane," he'd say, "Falcon, Goat, Goat, Goat."
    "Come on," I said, "cut to the Mopar stuff."
    For a while it looked like we might buy a Hemi 'Cuda, but when we went to test it, the wheel wells were full of Bondo. They said it was a Texas car.
    "Texas, Maine maybe," Lamont said.
    We went back to the classifieds.
    "Who wants a Mustang," he'd say, "or a Vette. That's a car for someone with no imagination."
    "You want that little Rambler Scrambler," I said.
    "There you go," he'd say. " '70 AMX."
    We'd do that until lunch, then we'd make sandwiches or go out to Chloe's Onion Fried or Taco Tico or Smoklahoma. Sonic was always good. Lamont always knew when I didn't want to cook.
    After lunch we'd do all the little things we had to do. Go to the laundromat, food-shop, get gas. You could show us at the post office, it was right about that time. I was trying to stop drinking so much, and Lamont wanted to go everywhere with me, just to make sure. He'd drop me off at the Conoco and come in to make sure I punched in. I didn't like it at first, but after a while it was nice.
    I paid Ronny the day guy to buy me a pint every day. He'd leave it under a Bazooka bubble gum bucket under the counter. I remember one day he was sick and I looked under the bucket and it wasn't there. And there's nothing you can do then, you just sit there in the booth and wait it out.
    I'd drink the pint like I was drinking a quart and I'd be done by seven and feeling pretty good. Then I'd call across the street to China Express or the Red Barn and someone would run something over. El Chico was over there too, but their dinner rush was too crazy to spare anyone. My favorite was the Barnbuster. After a pint, I just loved saying, "I'll have a Barnbuster, please." A lot of things are funnier over the phone when you're drunk.
    After I ate I'd straighten up. We sold a lot of milk at night. I Windexed the doors. I'd go through a hardpack of Marbs and a valu-pak of Care Free peppermint before Mister Fred Fred showed up. I told you he'd come back, didn't I? This isn't the real place he comes back, but still.
    He didn't have a car, Mister Fred Fred. He'd just come walking across Broadway with his notebook like My Favorite Martian or someone. He was always early because he wore two watches, one on each arm. They were the exact same, like he'd gotten a deal on them. At first I thought maybe one was five minutes fast and the other was ten, or they were an hour behind each other, or the time on Mister Fred Fred's planet. When I finally looked at them, they didn't have anywhere near the right time. They were just way off. I didn't even ask.
    He'd come in and we'd do the drawers and right on time Lamont would pull up and open the door for me. I never had to wait.
    When he kissed me, I knew he was checking my breath. We'd talk about our day, anything funny we'd seen. If it was summer or it was nice, we'd go home and get cleaned up and cruise Broadway. We'd get in the shower together, and sometimes we'd just forget about cruising. I didn't mind one way or the other. It was nice to be out with Lamont; I was proud he was mine. I liked people looking at us.
    His friends hung out down around the Kettle or up by Daylight Doughnuts. I didn't know