On Friday afternoon I’m killing time in town until 6 o’clock, when I’m to pick up Emil. I’ve been to the credit union, the library, the post office, the grocery store, and I have another hour to wait around. The store where Everett works keeps different hours than it used to, and I think it closes at 5:00 now. I text him that I’ll give him a ride home, then go park on the street across from the store.
At 5 after 5 I see him come out the front door and I wave. He waves back and gets into a truck, moves it from one place to another, then comes over to the car window.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, pleasantly, clearly unaware of my text.
“I thought I’d give you a ride home.”
“I don’t get off till six.”
“Oh! Shit! I thought you get off at five! How did I get that so wrong?”
“You’re old?” he says.