“Uh-un, I never was really. But when you’re watching an operation, you get so interested you don’t think about it being icky or scary. The vet is a woman. She’s been there quite a while.”
I digest this along with the rest of my sandwich. Then we both have a piece of apple pie. You can tell from the way the crust looks—browned and a little uneven—that they make it right here.
“So shall we go to the zoo?” Mary asks.
“O.K.” I get up to get her coat and mine. When I turn around, there she is up by the cashier, getting ready to pay her check.
“Hey, I’m buying lunch,” I say, steaming up with the other check.
“Oh, that’s all right.” She smiles. “I’ve got it.”
I don’t care if she’s got it. I want to pay it. I suppose it’s a silly thing to get sore about, but it sort of annoys me. Anyway, how do you maneuver around to do something for a girl when she doesn’t even know you want to?
The man in the deli gives us directions to get to the zoo, which isn’t far. It’s a low brick building in a nice park. In the lobby there are some fish tanks, then there’s a wing for birds on one side, animals on the other, and snakes straight ahead.
We go for snakes. Mary really seems to like them.
She says, “The vet here likes them, and I guess she got me interested. You know, they don’t really understand how a snake moves? Mechanically, I mean. She’s trying to find out.”