early 60s, clear-eyed.  in pink ruby's uniform and chunky shoes.  black currant hair striated with wisps of gray.  helen delivers the plates to a booth of college kids .
sure, hon .
come, come, come .
you look good.
what are you doing back?
have you seen him?
oh.
atley jackson. how is that one? how's the leg.  ?
i couldn't. i didn't want you to worry. i thought held sort himself out. i hardly see him. he comes and goes. he's in trouble, isn't he?
i knew it. he's changed, randall. he's a different boy. he's lost that.  that sweetness .  it's gone .  and i don't know what to do .
of course .
kipling was sixteen when you left, baby. i don't know what you remember of him. but you should brace yourself
the photo album. i get nostalgic around this time of year .
tuesdays .
every day. i wonder about that every day.
and just in case you lose your keys, good sir, i can toss in a complimentary slim-jim, free of charge .
i remember. supper getting cold, cos you two are out there heads under hoods .
i know.