He sat very close to her, with an arm around her, and they ate popcorn and candy bars, and she cried at all the sad parts, and they both agreed afterwards that it was a great movie. He drove her home, and they made plans for the following Wednesday afternoon, and she asked him casually how dinner with his parents had been, although she'd seen him in the meantime, she had forgotten to ask him. “Not so great actually,” he said, looking pensive, “actually pretty rotten. My dad forgot to come home. I guess he went out with some guys from work. Anyway, the roast beef got overcooked, my mom got really mad, and my dad came home drunk. Not exactly your perfect evening.” He grinned, it was so bad you had to be philosophical about it. “They're pretty mad at each other most of the time. I guess they're just mad at the things they can't change, but they don't seem to be able to help each other.” Maribeth nodded, looking sympathetic, and they sat on her front steps for a while.
