“Hot damn, six days left, and then we can leave this place,” says Rita, marking through the calendar date.
She takes a dollar out of her pocket and smacks it down on the table where I’m eating breakfast; waffles this morning.
“Two quarters for the cuss jar, and the rest is credit.”
I scoop up another bite of waffle, but I leave the dollar where it landed. Mom nods to me, picks up the dollar, and stuffs it into the liter soda bottle we’re using as the cuss jar since we already filled up the coffee cup.
“Praise God, homeward bound soon,” says Mary Beth and makes the sign of the cross.
“It’ll be good to get back to normal.” Mom sighs. “I miss Peter, and I miss not being able to jump into the car and go somewhere, even if it is just to the grocer.”
“I miss my friends,” Heather says, fork
