Alice

Pushing off his haunches, Mr. Jones walks out to the edge of the campsite. Having a look in either direction, he walks back and after dropping to a knee, Mr. Jones says to Cotton, “Jimmy has been out there for a while now.”

Cotton asks, “You want me to hurry him along?”

Pondering this, Mr. Jones says to Cotton, “No, let him be.”

“Alright then.”

Giving the spit a turn, Cotton looks her way. “Hey kid, it’s going to be a minute or two.”

Mr. Jones jumps ahead in pointing out, “Call her Alice.”

Cotton thinks about this before he goes on to say, “I had a cousin with that name. She baked one hell of a blueberry pie. Did it all from scratch too.”

Mr. Jones is all smiles as he says right after, “Apple was my favorite. Still warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream right on top. What about you, Alice?”

Caught up in it all of the talk, she says without a hint of emotion, “Banana splits and French fries.” Cotton shakes his head all the while Mr. Jones laughs a deep chuckle that tapers off to where all is quiet aside the fire popping and hissing. Transfixed on the undulating flames, she picks up on Mr. Jones saying to Cotton, “That feeling you had, I have it too.”

Cotton looks out before he levels his eyes on Mr. Jones, “It’s like were being followed.”

“Feels that way, don’t it.” Mr. Jones looks at her then. “You must be some kind of special.”

Dropping her eyes off of his, what fills her mind is the want of this being over with. No more of them toying with her emotions as if what she has to look forward to is going to make her life so much better than it is.