The Nanman

The Nanman - Chapter 4

“They're organic.”

“So is oil. I'll see if we have anything. You might want to open that door soon so I can change Lucy's diaper, unless you two want to do it.”

Gregory and Natty groaned, but the door remained shut.

In the kitchen, Dez made himself at home. If there was anything he knew about parenting, it was that the kitchen was the command center, the battle-station, the grand central railway. He liked the layout, plenty of counter space and cabinets with an opening that looked out over the dining-room table.

He started with the refrigerator. Its freezer was filled with a few useful foods, but mostly sugary food substitutes he vowed to toss into the trash. The fridge was sparkling clean; several soy products leapt out at him, taking up almost as much space as the supplements. On the bottom were a few containers of take-out next to the rice bread and the tahini. He wasn't sure why the tahini was refrigerated. In the back he saw a bottle of champagne left open and gone flat next to a gallon container of water.

“No wonder Frank ran away,” he muttered, picking up a baggy of tofu burgers. “A man could go hungry in this house.”

He placed the tea pot on to boil and searched the rack for a strong black tea. He found a tea ball and packed it with a loose strong smelling black that he was sure would kick his system like ethylene. He continued his exploration by slowly opening and shutting every cabinet until he found a large tea mug, the frosted mini-wheats, two bowls, a plate, a knife, and two spoons. The moment was surreal, doing these simple tasks he had done with love and devotion for his family, and now for this family he didn't even know, and whose faces he had never seen. He would remember the moment for a long time imagining he was like a wild monkey shoved in a dark box to one day emerge in a new and foreign habitat.

He put the rice bread in the toaster, the mini-wheats in the two bowls, and for Lucy he put some crackers in a plastic cup. A moment later the food was on the table and he took up his place with a bowl of mini-wheats doused in soymilk.

“Breakfast!” Dez called, and proceeded to eat his synthetic tasting meal. He could almost feel his teeth rotting from the sugar, but at least he was getting the variety of both sucrose and organic cane juice.

The children peeked out the door. He decided to ignore them. On a pad of paper he scribbled notes. Food list: eggs, flours, cheese, meats, good bread, beans, tortillas, veggies, sauces, and call Ben. Ben was a farmer, about fifteen miles out of town who supplied him with raw milk, and anything else he was producing. He started a second list: birthday, allergies, budget, post office box, expense account, contacts, and library. He was drumming his pencil on the table trying to think without tea, when he noticed the children emerging from their room.

Gregory took one look at him and was a blonde thin streak running for the stairs. “Mom, Mom, Mom!” Lucy imitated him by squawking and flapping her arms, and with her build, he couldn’t help but think of a Butterball Turkey. She must have had her father’s coloring, with dark hair and big round beautiful eyes. She was quickly distracted by the bookshelf, where books began to find their way to the floor. Natty watched her sister and brother go, then looked at her breakfast. She took cautious awkward steps to the table and sat down uncomfortably.

“At least you got my chair right,” she said, tossing her finely combed hair to the side with an arrogant twist of her head.

“I thought you might like to sit at the head of the table,” Dez replied.

“There's no milk in this.”

Dez handed her the soymilk. “We don't have any milk.”

“Duh, that is the milk. Can you pour it?”