“Your hair’s getting really long,” she said sourly.

David blinked and smiled. “It is. How are your fries?”

“Fucking incredible. Have some.”

“What’s up with that bartender?” David mixed ketchup and mustard on the side of the plate. “How do you just refuse to do your job?”

“Bet you they don’t have a cook,” she said. “So he had to make these. Notice how everything on the menu comes out of a microwave or a deep fryer? It’s so the bartender can nip back there for a minute and they don’t have to pay another guy. Meanwhile, all his customers are pissed no one’s around to get them drinks.”

“Then why have food at all?”

“To sell liquor. In Oregon bars, you don’t need food for beer and wine, but you do for booze. Remember that one time at B-Side?”

“I was so wasted.” David laughed. He had been very confused that he could not order a shot of rum. (“But this is a bar!” he’d said on his stool, like a child. “Babe,” Iris had said.)

“You were ridiculous.” Iris rolled her eyes. “But that’s why B-Side doesn’t have liquor or food. Which describes my own personal hell, obviously. This state, I tell ya.”

“How do you know this?”

“I know every fact about alcohol regulations by jurisdiction. One day, I’ll write an encyclopedic novel about it; just watch me. Did you know in Indiana you’re only allowed to sell cold beer in a liquor store? You can sell it warm in a gas station, but if you put it in a fridge, it’s illegal.”

“This is what you learn at fancy school, huh?” David said dryly.

“Oh, shut up, doctor’s kid. I’ve seen your mom’s house. How’s she doing, by the way?”

“Great,” David lied. A month ago, they’d had a fight when he came home in a dress. David had expected the fight. He hadn’t expected Connie to say that what David did elsewhere was his business, but in her house, “There are rules, okay? It’s not just whatever you feel like, okay? That’s not how life works, okay?”

David noticed on Iris’s shoulder: a black-inked circle with three wavering spokes curving out from it. “You got another tattoo!”

“Yeah.” Iris didn’t look up. “Last month. You wanna smoke after this? We have to go outside now.”

“I know. What’s your tattoo? Is it a symbol? What does it mean?”

“Nothing. I made up the design. I don’t think tattoos should mean anything.”

“What?”

“I’ve always thought so. Since I got Johnny,” she tapped her forearm.

“You never said that to me.”

“Huh,” Iris said and forked up the last of her fries.

They didn’t talk once about their ex status. It seemed Iris’s outreach was more of a signal, communicating something like, “Hello, yes, I am now ready to be friends! Let us do that.” It was sweet and undramatic. They walked home together, and Iris wrapped her arms around him outside his apartment. “It was so good to see you!” She staggered backwards toward the road, a finger pointed at him in joy. “Call me sometime!” David blew her a kiss as she disappeared around the corner. Inside, he turned on the heat, and Ray instantly pleaded with him to turn it down. He was about to graduate and his parents were ragging on him to get a job.