“So the next day — ”
“Wait.” Maggie placed the pot on the makeshift table. “This guy do nuthin’ the rest of the day?”
With his right hand, Charlie rubbed his thumb against his middle finger. “I dunno. Mike didn’ say much of anything ’bout what the guy did, if he had a job or sumpin’.” He stood up, walked over to a cabinet above the sink in his parents’ trailer.
Maggie twirled a long lock of her red hair with her left hand. “So the guy wakes up the next mornin’ . . . ”
“And this time, the same woman’s outside his door, just waitin’ for him. You did it again, she tells him. When I got home from my night shift, I saw you walking outside in your pajamas, like the night before. And the guy’s like, How do I know you’re telling me the truth? And she says, Tonight when I come home, I’ll bring a marker with me. If I see you sleepwalking again, I’ll write WAKE UP on your hand. See, because he didn’t wake up when she’d touched him before.” He walked over to the makeshift table, carrying two plates and forks.
Maggie spooned some of the pot’s contents onto the plate Charlie handed her. “So lemme guess — guy wakes up the next morning, and he sees WAKE UP written on his hand.”
“Exactly!” Charlie pointed across the makeshift table at Maggie, a satisfied smile on his bearded face. “See, you’re beginnin’ to get inta the story now, no more dumb questions!”
Maggie raised her eyebrows as she swallowed. “So he sees the woman again, this nurse?”
“Nosah!” His face was filled with triumph. “This is where it gets interestin’!”
The Diligent Dilettante 