Summer's coming

After parting ways with Samantha, I stumbled home and snuck quietly into the house, only to find my mother perched near the doorway, reading a novel in the light of a reading-lamp.

'You're still awake, Mum?' said I.

'Yes, Alfie. Why's your hair so mussed?'

'Um. . .it's the style now, mother. Yes. . .it's square to look groomed. Ostentatiously casual is in.'

She looked up from the book. 'I understand, Alfie.'

I pretended not to notice the knowing quality of the look. She'd known about the dance, she'd once been sixteen herself, she understood young men in a sly way. I said, 'We danced good-naturedly for an hour and a half, drank non-alcoholic beverages such as water and V8, and split ways in the parking lot, well before any lascivious behavior had a chance to occur.'

The crickets chirped loud outside my window that night.