Her husband has gotten up and paid the bill, but she does not follow him and seems in no hurry. The man takes a seat at the far end of the counter and asks the waitress for a glass of water, then does not drink from it as he stares at the wall.

The woman says: So you are going up to Portland, I suppose.

I do not contradict her.

Got a girlfriend there, I guess. Or maybe college. You look like you’re a college type.

This woman must be blind. I am years too young. Maybe it’s because around here there are no colleges and everyone from out of town must look like a college person to her.

You don’t seem like most of the rotten types we get from down there, she says.

Thank you.

It’s mostly trashy plastic types we get. All kinds of garbage.

It’s a crummy place.

She nods, approvingly. She signals to the waitress and asks her to bring me a chocolate sundae which she says I should try, and the waitress brings it and they watch me eat. It tastes like cool lumps of syrup on my tongue and I scrape the metal dish clean and then they do not let me pay for it. After it is gone I can see the dish marks on the countertop where condensation lay. The waitress runs a rag across it and it is gone.

So what motel you staying in, honey? the first woman says.

Oh, I’m just going up the road.

But what’s the name of the hotel? I hope it isn’t the Deer Trader.

Nope.

Where then?

I’m driving on tonight, I finally mumble.

What was that?

I’m driving on tonight.

Now that’s funny. I could of sworn you just said you had yourself a hotel room.

My fingertips cradle my wet glass of ice water. I just drove by one and thought I might take a room, I say. But then you told me they were all taken. So I guess I’ll drive on.

Well, drive safe anyway. I wish I could offer you a couch to sleep on, a sweet-looking boy like you, but my brother-in-law is visiting.

That’s okay.

She seems to want to say something but hesitates for a long time, looking at me. She finally says: I got a mattress on the porch you can sleep on. It’s a bit weathered—you know, yellowed from the rain—but it’s late and you might be tired.

Thanks. But I’m in a hurry to meet someone.

In Portland?

Yeah.