Chapter 5
“I’m taking some time off school, actually. But I did go home for Christmas. Spur of the moment decision. I wasn’t going to this year, but then I did.” When I turned back, he was seated again, a forkful of chicken poised for his open mouth to wrap around it and take it all the way in. “I felt kind of bad I didn’t tell you,” he said—after the big bite.
“Where’s home?” I asked, doubting the veracity of his story. How had he possibly made it home for Christmas when he’d dropped off the plant at five fifty-five on Christmas Eve? Last minute flights didn’t exist on holidays.
“Home is Vermont. About an hour and a half from here.”
“Oh.”
“I ate even more than I eat here.”
“Wow. It’s a wonder you can still almost fit into those pants.”
He actually spit out a little square piece of carrot. “You’re funny. Food’s always good at home. Not as good as yours.”
Flattery would get him nothing but a blowjob.