What are you thinking about, Peanut?
We are at a lake I don't know the name of, pretending we are residents at the campground even though we've just walked up the road from the asphalt parking lot where the camper is parked with blocks against the tires for the next five days as we work a show four hours from home, but a lucrative show with last day bonuses, meant to keep everyone from bailing as we are paid each night at ten. We've heard rumours that the bonus might be a full days pay and that would be amazing, as the camper needs tires and Lochlan needs better food. I can live on sugar and fresh air but he works hard in the sun and needs the calories. Seventeen year old boys are walking appetites. I've never seen them eat so much as they do now. I wonder how much he will eat by the time he is twenty, though that's so far away from now.
I'm wondering why they call it a glove box. How that kind of label would persist when I've never seen a grownup reach over and tuck their gloves into a special locked case in the dashboard. Like, if you're wearing gloves then it's winter and you'll need to leave them on until the heater warms up the car. Unless that's why and once it's warm you put them in the box. Just because they might get lost otherwise?
His laugh rings out across the water. That is what you're thinking about?
Well, what are you thinking about?
Where we should go next. Do you want to stay out?
Yes, at least until the beaches are empty at home.
What if we went really far?
How far?
New York far.
I don't know where that is.
It's a few hours past Cape Cod. You just keep driving.
Oh. That's REALLY far. We're going to drive?
Maybe.
If you don't need the glove box since it's summer can I use it for my lip gloss?
Sure.It will still melt in there though.