Phone call

"I'm sorry to bother you. I know it's not a school time."

"You're not bothering me. What's up?"

And he goes on, during this long distance call, to talk about a girlfriend who has really good grades and papers--she was born in Miami--and a need for a scholarship and what could I tell him about that? He says she's going to St. Louis University and maybe she is and maybe it's the community college and which one is irrelevant and I don't ask, don't try to figure it out. Instead I try to explain over the sound of his open truck door about FAFSA and spell out the URLs that I know for the government forms and the group that gives money to Hispanic college kids in St. Louis and then it's time for him to go back in to work.

"It's always good to hear from you," I say. And I can see his smile and hear it in his reply. And I remember that he would have graduated this year, too, had he not dropped out.

It's summer break, on the calendar, for those of us that live that life. But school. . . school is never out.