My Complicated Life

Chapter 18

In the morning I woke up with something sharp in my side and a rocklike shape against my head. I tried to move my leg, but something was trapping it. When I opened my eyes, the memories of where I was came back to me. Jason lay on his stomach, half of his body falling off of the bed. His elbow stabbed into my side, shoulder against my temple, his other leg trapping mine. I tried to move slowly to keep him from waking up, but the bed frame squeaked loudly, failing to do what I hoped. Jason sat up and realizing it was only the bed, plopped back down against his half of the pillow, or what became three fourths.

We sat down at Uncle Dave’s kitchen table for breakfast. The table was made of wire and metal, forming a pale pink floral pattern. It was more so a back patio kind of table than a kitchen table, but it did not seem to bother Uncle Dave. On the table laid three dishes: one with fruit, one with bread, and one with cereal. Surprisingly, it did not look nearly as bad as I expected. Uncle Dave set out a bowl, spoon, and napkin at each of the four chairs, as if a fourth person was coming to eat with us.

“What do you guys want to drink?” Uncle Dave asked, looking in the fridge.

“What do you have without alcohol?” Jason asked.

“Water, uh, well I guess that’s it.”

“How are we supposed to eat cereal without milk?”

“What? You guys don’t eat it dry?”

Jason just stared at him in disbelief.

“No,” I piped in.

“Well you can still eat it, right?”

“I guess,” Jason mumbled as he grabbed the bowl of cereal from the center of the table and spooned some into his own bowl. He passed the bowl to me and I did the same. It appeared to be something similar to Frosted Flakes, though it did not taste as good. I helped myself to some of the fruit, which I silently prayed was still good to eat.

“Are you sure the bread isn’t stale?” asked Jason.

“Why would it be stale?” Uncle Dave asked.

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Remember that one time when I was like five and Dad realized there was mold growing on the end of my sandwich, and then when I got home I got food poisoning and had to go to the emergency room?”

“It was one time, Jason,” Uncle Dave said, clearly growing annoyed. “Besides, your dad is the one who gave you the sandwich.”

“You made it,” Jason added.

“It won’t happen again.” Neither of us ate the bread. I must say though, minus the milk, this was more food for breakfast than Dad had given me my first morning with him.

Uncle Dave came and sat down across from Jason and next to me, leaving the seat between them vacant. After filling his bowl with all three options, he reached for my hand and across the table for Jason’s. At first I could not figure out what was happening, but then I remembered dinners back home in San Francisco. I held my hand out for Jason and he took it. Uncle Dave began the prayer and I shut my eyes, remembering Harper’s kindergarten prayer. First she thanked God for her food, then family, then friends. I felt a lump gather in my throat at the thought of Harper and my family. Uncle Dave ended the prayer and I pushed the thoughts out of my head by focusing on the food in front of me.

“So I was talking to your father the other night, though it was only for exactly five minutes. He told me that he’s very excited to see you guys.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Jason asked.

“Uh, sure. So how’s basketball going?”