Thursday Afternoon

I was on my tiptoes, looking down into the ice cream freezer. I couldn't decide whether to get a drumstick, a pushup, a big stick, or a sundae. I pick the sundae and put it on the counter next to my dad's can. I realize I forgot the spoon and run back to the freezer. My dad asks the counterman "Can I get a traveling bag for this?" holding the can up. My arm is sore from two allergy shots I've just gotten. We get in the car and my dad pulls out into traffic. He pushes the paper bag down around the can until the top is exposed, then pulls the tab, pulling it off the can, throwing it out the open window. I watch him drive, sitting up straight, can in his right hand, steering the car with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. The hairs on his arm are blowing in the wind. His face is red against the fading sun.