Trailer Trash(16)

“You know what I really miss?” Nate asked.

Cody swallowed. “Besides a swimming pool and MTV and a mall with an arcade?”

Nate laughed. “Yeah, besides those things. I miss grits.”

Cody stopped in the middle of taking the lid off his own chocolate shake. “What are those?”

If anyone had told Nate two months earlier that he’d be talking to somebody who’d never heard of grits, he would have called them an idiot, but he’d checked the grocery store in Warren. There were no grits to be found. Not even the instant kind. “They’re like Cream of Wheat, I guess, but not really.” He unwrapped his hamburger, thinking about all the things he couldn’t find in Warren. “I miss fried okra too. And you know what else?”

“What?”

“Collard greens cooked with bacon. I didn’t even think I liked them that much till I found out I couldn’t get them. Now, every night at dinner, I sit there wishing we had them.”

“Isn’t spinach the same thing?”

“Not even close.” For a while, they ate in silence, although Nate was pleased to see he’d converted Cody to the world of chocolate shakes in lieu of ketchup on his fries. And Nate’s Big Mac was the best damn thing he’d ever tasted.

“You don’t have much of a Texas accent,” Cody said as he wadded up his empty hamburger wrapper.

“No. It’s ’cause my folks are damned Yankees.”

Cody wrinkled his brow, and Nate laughed, realizing the joke was lost on him.

“It’s something they always say in the South. The difference between a Yankee and a damned Yankee is that a Yankee’s here to visit, but a damned Yankee’s here to stay.” He shook his head, realizing that his “here” had become “there.” He still thought of himself as a Texan.

“Anyway. My mom and dad were both Air Force brats. They lived all over growing up. They moved to Austin the year before I was born, but the southern drawl never really rubbed off on them. Plus, you know, my mom’s an English teacher, so she’s big on proper grammar. She likes telling me how ‘y’all’ isn’t in the dictionary.” Why did he always end up talking about his mom? “Anyway, as far as I’m concerned, you’re the one with the accent.”

Cody stopped, a fry halfway to his mouth. “I don’t have an accent.”

“You do. You and everybody else in Warren. You sort of . . . twang.”

Cody dropped his fry, sitting back as if Nate had slapped him. “I don’t ‘twang.’”

“You do. It’s kind of cute, really.”

Cody just stared at him, and Nate suddenly regretted having said that last bit. He crumpled up his Big Mac wrapper, searching for something else to say that didn’t feel so stupid. He glanced out the window, at the cars headed downtown.

Or was it “uptown” in Rock Springs?

“Hey,” he said, struck by a new thought. “Is there a record store in Rock Springs?”

“Pretty sure there is.”

“Then hurry up and finish your pie. I never managed to buy Lifes Rich Pageant before I moved.”

“Who?”

“R.E.M.”

Cody groaned as he started to gather their trash onto the tray. “Thank God your car doesn’t have a cassette player.”



Cody could tell Nate was uncomfortable when they entered the thrift shop, but he seemed to be doing his best to act casual about it. The place had the same sour, musty smell as every other used clothing store Cody had ever been in. The front of the store was all women’s clothing, and Nate followed him past the racks of clothing to the men’s section. Cody tried to tell himself he had no reason to be embarrassed as he started sorting through the options.

“How about this?” Nate was on the other side of the rack of clothes, directly across from Cody. He held up the ugliest sweater Cody had ever seen.

“No.”

Nate put it back without a word. Thirty seconds later, he said, “This?”

This one was bad enough it made Cody think better of the first one. He couldn’t tell if Nate was seriously offering him the sweater, or if he was intentionally picking things he knew Cody would hate. “No.”

“This one?” The shirt Nate held up this time was almost identical to the one he was wearing, right down to the little horse embroidered on the chest.

Cody shook his head. “Nate, look at me. Then look at you. Then look at that shirt. Now tell me, who’re you kidding?”

Nate actually blushed a bit as he put the shirt back. “Just trying to help.”

So he had been serious. Now Cody felt bad for being a smart-ass. “What I really need are pants.”