“a boy like me calls his mother.” By Sasha on her porch


Monday, July 20, 2015
9:11am
5 minutes
from http://www.howlround.com

We make a plan to go to the diner for milkshakes.
“No dinner. Just milkshakes!” You text.
“Milkshakes ARE DINNER.” I respond.
I’m already there, picking off my chipping nail polish.
My phone beeps.
It’s you.
“I’m in a crisis.” You text.
“And when in crisis?” I respond.
“A boy like me calls his mother. I’m gonna be an hour late.”
It’s not the first time.
It won’t be the final time.
I order onion rings.
I order a root beer.
You finally roll up in a purple velour tracksuit and red Doc Martin’s.
“Where’s your milkshake?” You say.
“I’m full…” I respond.
“Fuck you.”
“Meanie.”
“I WANT A STRABERRY SHAKE! HEAVY ON THE CREAM!”
“Shhh – ”
“MY MILKSHAKE BRINGS ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARD!”
You’re high.