“When I was your age I wouldn’t have missed a moment to explore this city,” he says as he’s already making himself a sandwich, “I was a transplant like yourself but you already know that your father and I were from upstate he never wanted to leave though, me I couldn’t wait to get out didn’t get along with the parents…”
“If I go outside can we skip the lecture,” I interrupted.
“S’not a lecture,” he says looking dejected, “I was just letting you know about when y’r father and I were little.”
It was the first time I was able to tell that my uncle and my father came from the same stock: they both carried the same look when they were sad.
“I’m sorry,” I found myself saying, “it’s just that I’m used to the lecture. I guess I’m just still settling in,” I say repeating what he said to me earlier this morning.
“I understand kiddo.”
He finished making his sandwich in silence and had eaten half of it in three huge bites before asking me if he could make me something.
“I could eat,” I said though I wasn’t really all that hungry, just bored.
“We have plenty of the frozen stuff that I could zap for you or I could whip somethin’ up?”
“Grilled cheese,” I say not able to help the grin the spreads across my face; grilled cheese is my all time favorite food.
“That smile is the most I’ve seen out of you yet,” he says pulling butter and cheese from the fridge, “Want it weird or normal?”
He flashes me the other half of tomato that he didn’t put on his own sandwich.
I couldn’t help the grimace.
“Okay okay, to each his own.”
I close my eyes and savor the sound of the butter crackling in the pan.