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Show Inside Out, 156 "Hi," I said. "Hi," she said. "So, uh, are your parents cool with you going out alone at night like this? My dad wasn't so hot on the idea." "No," she said. "My parents didn't care." I couldn't think of what to say next. I have always hated small talk. I'd rather talk about things that matter, really get to know a person. I envied people like my dad, who could chat basically about nothing with anyone anywhere, and come away with new acquaintances who liked him. Countless waiters, receptionists and grocery checkers knew him by name because of all the conversations he'd struck up. And these people probably thought of him as a friend, or a potential friend, because of it, even though they had never had one meaningful discussion. No doubt it was a first step in a friendship. But I didn't know how to do it. I would rather ask something that mattered. "You're a Mormon, aren't you?" I said. Terra looked shocked. "Why do you ask?" "I saw you reading a Book of Mormon at the doctor's office a few weeks ago." "Oh," she said, and looked out the window. I hoped I hadn't offended her. Then she said, "It wasn't my book. I just found it on the shelf at the doctor's office." "So-was it good reading?" I asked. Terra glanced up at me and then away. "It was, this time." "What do you mean?" I asked. |