"And then?"
"And then nothing. And then I'm sitting in the Mizpah lot with no gas and no money and my grandbaby." He breathed out. "I know it. I knew it in there. I just—I had to come out and look at it. I had to sit in it and see if I'd do it."
"And?"
"And I'm sitting here."
She waited.
"You called her," he said.
"I called her."
"What'd she say?"
"She asked was you drunk."
He made a sound, a short hard sound, as if he had been hit in the chest with something small. "And you said."