600 Hours of Edward

filed a restraining order against him. I ask him if he saw Mike hit his mother, and Kyle says softly, “Yeah.”
    “Where do you go on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays when your mother is working?”
    “I stay with my grandma in Laurel.”
    “Your mother’s mother or your father’s mother?”
    “My mom’s mom. I don’t know my dad.”
    “I know my father.”
    “What’s he like?”
    “He is a Yellowstone County commissioner.”
    “What’s that?”
    “He runs stuff around here.”
    “Oh.”
    “He’s not very nice sometimes,” I offer. “Maybe it’s better that you don’t know your father.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    – • –
    A little before 5:00 p.m., while Kyle and I are washing out the paintbrushes, his mother walks across the street.
    “Kyle, it’s about time to go.”
    “I know.”
    “OK, run home and grab your overnight bag for Grandma’s house.”
    “See ya, Edward,” Kyle says, and he lights out.
    She smiles at me.
    “Hi, Edward.”
    “Hello.”
    “Kyle wasn’t any trouble, was he?”
    “No. He’s a very good painter now.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes. I taught him how to do it.”
    “That’s great.”
    I nod.
    “Listen,” she says, “I want to thank you for being nice to him. He doesn’t get much of a chance to do these kinds of things.”
    “OK.”
    “I’m sorry if I was accusatory the other day.”
    “OK.”
    “You don’t have a lot to say, do you?”
    I stare at her.
    “I’m sorry,” she says. “That didn’t come out very nice.”
    “OK. I have to go now.”
    “OK, Edward.”
    I gather up the brushes and head to the front door, then stop and turn around.
    “Donna?”
    She’s halfway across the street.
    “Yes?”
    “What’s your last name?”
    “Middleton. What’s yours?”
    “Stanton. I told you that the other day.”
    “Right. Sorry. I forgot.”
    We’re looking at each other.
    “Good-bye, Ms. Middleton.”
    “Good-bye, Mr. Stanton.”
    – • –
    First, dinner. I will have the DiGiorno pizza.
    It’s good, but it doesn’t taste like delivery, no matter what the TV commercial says. I don’t think delivery has a taste. It’s nonsensical. Delivered pizza has a taste, but that’s not what the commercial says. Imprecision frustrates me.
    – • –
    Second, I will write back to Joy. I haven’t given my reply as much thought as I’d hoped, what with spending the day with Kyle and, for a few minutes, his mother. But I can’t put it off much longer, for I fear that Joy will think I am rude.
    I decide to wing it. I don’t like winging it. I like plans.
    Joy:
    I hope this note finds you well.
    Thank you for responding to my profile. I enjoyed reading yours. It has given me much to think about. It’s hard to know what to think of this online dating. I wish a kind face (yours) were a reliable barometer. But it seems that one has to be willing to take a chance. I don’t like chance. I prefer reliability and facts.
    Here are some things about me:
    * I am thirty-nine. I was born on January 9, 1969, and so I am really thirty-nine years and 282 days old, if you’re counting. I always count.
    * I like to track the weather and keep track of other things.
    * I am six foot four and a bit heavy. You said heightweight proportional but also that a spark was most important. I will take you at your word.
    * I am a nonsmoker.
    * I have never married.
    * I have no children. You spoke a lot about children in your profile. I would like to wait to have those discussions.
    * I live in Billings. You live in Broadview. That’s thirty-one miles. I would be willing to travel for the right person. How do you feel about this?
    I hope to hear from you.

    With regards,
    Edward
    I hit send. Holy shit!
    – • –
    Third, at 10:00 p.m. sharp, I will watch tonight’s episode of
Dragnet
.
    This one, the twenty-third episode of the fourth and final season, is called “I.A.D.: The Receipt,” and it is one of my favorites. It originally aired on March 26, 1970. In this episode, a woman accuses two detectives of stealing $800 from a deadman, and Sergeant Joe Friday and Officer Bill Gannon are called in to investigate. They eventually prove that the detectives did not steal the money, because they follow clues relentlessly until the truth emerges.
    You may be wondering why, in 2008, my favorite television show is one that was made largely before I was born. I will tell you.
    Sergeant Joe Friday, played by Jack Webb, is no-nonsense. He wants only the facts, which he