He reassures me that it should only be his mom that I will be meeting because his dad rarely ever goes home. He says he’s way too invested in picking up every job opportunity for the company he can, even if it means driving state to state for months on end, personally securing each account. I sit in the passenger side of Holden’s work truck, the only vehicle I’ve ever seen him drive, and stare out the window watching the fields and occasional farm animals that we pass. “Hey,” he says as he grabs my hand, clasping it into his. My fingers easily slide between his as if we’ve been doing this forever, and it’s perfectly routine. “What?” I look at him and smile. He’s got his crooked grin going, and he lifts our conjoined hands to point out the window. “Hay.” He laughs. “Ha. Aren’t you a clever one?” I laugh at him. “Well, actually according to ACT, SAT, IQ, and a bunch of Navy tests, I am damn near genius,” he says with confidence. “And you’re working in the oil industry?
