She fed him slices of apple and ate some herself, then rolls of ham with little pieces of pear in them, then sips of cherry juice from a glass bottle.
“Enough,” he said at last. “I’m stuffed, woman!”
She laughed. “Skinny little fucker—gotta put some meat on your bones.” She tidied the dinner detritus into an empty shopping bag and tossed it over her shoulder into the back seat.
“So,” she said. “How long since you’ve been home?”
He stared at the road for a while. “Fifteen years,” he said. “Never been back since I left.”
She stared straight forward and worked her hand under his thigh, so he was sitting on it, then wriggled her knuckles.
“I’ve never been home,” she said.
He wrinkled his brow. “What’s that mean?” he said.
“It’s a long story,” she said.
“Well, let’s get off the highway and get a room and you can tell me, okay?”