Page 58 of Goose

Ally

Side by side on the concrete bench, we gazed at the ocean while drinking beers. The sweet smell of the surrounding flowers lingered lightly in the air.

“I’ve got a question,” he said. “A few of them.”

I glanced at him. “Okay.”

“What’s your biggest accomplishment in life?”

The question took me by complete surprise. I wasn’t one to brag about anything. Beaming over my life’s accomplishments wasn’t my way of doing things. Luckily, I hadn’t accomplished much. At least nothing worth making note of.

“Moving from Connecticut to California, I suppose.”

“That’s your biggest accomplishment?”

I shrugged. “I think it’s huge. For me, anyway.”

“Why?”

“It took guts. I have no family here. I know no one. I left my only family member buried in Bridgeport. Yeah. I’d say coming here is my biggest accomplishment.”

“Who was your childhood hero, and who is your hero now?”

“That’s an easy one,” I said. “For both. My father.”

“Why?”

“I don’t place people I don’t know on pedestals. Actors. Actresses. Sports figures. I don’t know who they are. How could I look up to any of them? Despite his faults, my father is the only one worthy of that label. He adhered to a system of beliefs that I admired, and still live by today.”

“Okay,” he said. “Next question. When was the last time you sang to yourself?”

I laughed. “This morning.”

“In the shower?” he asked.

“No. While I put on my makeup. I sing to myself all the time. There’s never anyone around to hear me, so it’s probably more often than you’d think.”

“Last one,” he said. “At least I think it’ll be the last. You pay in cash at the grocery store, and the checker gives you fifty bucks too much in change. You don’t realize it until you’re at the bar with your friends. When you get in your purse to get your lipstick, or whatever. Do you keep the money, or give it back?”

“Give it back.”

“Why?”

I turned to the side and looked him up and down. “What’s with the questions?”

“Just wondering,” he said. “Why would you give it back?”

“Because. She’d probably lose her job over it. Me keeping it wouldn’t be right.”

He rested his elbows over the back of the bench, at his sides. After crossing his ankles, he glanced over his right shoulder. “Same question, but the IRS gives you fifty too much on your tax return. Do you cash the check, or call them and ask how to return the extra money?”

“I keep it and spend it frivolously. On chocolate.”

“Why?” he asked. “What’s the difference?”

“I don’t know about you,” she said. “But, I don’t steal a struggling mother’s purse or a working man’s wallet. Never have. Never will. I take from people who deserve it. The IRS deserves it.”

“Who decides whether or not the people you steal from are deserving?” he asked.