Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“That you believed in me and felt I probably wouldn’t fuck up. Oh wait, no. The opposite of that.” I moved to the sink and held my bleeding index finger under running water.
Eden swooped in, all concerned because he was thoughtful and perfect, and asked, “How bad is it? Should I get the first aid kit?”
I was all ready to play the helpless little waif and let him attend to me—which was fucking ridiculous, since I was a full-grown man who happened to be six-foot-two and built like a tank—but no. My brother, who just had to be a nurse, stepped between us. He snatched my hand from under the running water and scrutinized it before saying, “You won’t need stitches, but let’s get some antibiotic cream on there, and—”
I cut him off with, “I know you mean well. I do. But believe it or not, I can handle this.” I wrapped a paper towel around my finger to sop up the blood and left the kitchen.
After I bandaged the cut in the bathroom, I decided to abandon the salad. Either Casey or Eden had probably taken it over by now anyway. I joined Eden’s granddad in the family room and took a seat on the dark yellow couch. Like the rest of the house, this room was a 1970s time capsule, right down to the brown, gold, and burnt orange color scheme. It was all pretty funky, but I actually enjoyed it.
George Davis was seventy-three, had been widowed for several years, and happened to look a lot like Morgan Freeman. Since he lived with chronic back pain that limited what he could do, we’d moved in to help him out. He tried to act like he didn’t really need us, but we knew he enjoyed our company and the home-cooked meals—as long as Eden wasn’t the one choosing the recipe.
George was watching Wheel of Fortune, and we both started calling out letters and trying to guess the words. On the commercial break, he asked, “Do I smell lasagna? If so, please tell me my grandson didn’t make it.”
“Don’t worry, Casey made it and used tons of extra cheese. We told Eden he’s banned from making lasagna after that whole-wheat-and-spinach low fat monstrosity he tried to pass off as food last month.” Eden came into the room just then with a tray of food, and he shot me a look. I shot one back and said, “You know that thing tasted like lawn clippings and sadness.”
“It was healthy.”
“It was a train wreck.”
I got up and handed George his lap desk. He put it in place, then assessed the meal his grandson put in front of him and asked, “Who made that dessert?”
“I did,” Eden said.
George frowned at him and asked, “What did you do to it?”
“Nothing. It’s a real brownie,” Eden insisted.
George looked skeptical, as he should. I decided not to mention the fact that his health-conscious grandson had substituted unsweetened apple sauce for the oil, and that the recipe had billed them as low in sugar and high in fiber.
After I went and fixed myself a plate, I came back to the family room, set up a TV tray, and sat back down on the couch. Eden and Casey did the same thing. They would have preferred sitting at the table, but George’s back issues gave him a permanent excuse for staying in his recliner and eating in front of the TV.
On the next commercial break, George asked, “Who’s up for some gin rummy after we eat?”
It was his favorite pastime, so I felt guilty when I said, “Sorry, George, I have a date.”
Casey asked me, “Are you going out with the same guy from last weekend?”
“No, a different one.” I kept my gaze on my plate while I dissected my lasagna into little cubes.
Actually, I was meeting a new client. I’d needed more of an excuse than my former pizza delivery job for going out several times a week at odd hours, so I’d claimed to be on a dating app. Now everyone thought I was turning into a serial dater.
I tried to redirect the conversation by asking my brother, “What about you, do you have big plans for your Friday night?”
He shook his head. “It’s been a long week, so I’m just going to watch some Netflix and go to bed early.”
George asked, “What’s your excuse for not going out and having fun, Eden?”
“I’m planning to begin the guest bathroom remodel this weekend, so I thought I should get started on the prep work,” he said, as he poked at the salad that took up most of his plate.
George sighed and muttered, “Being young is totally wasted on the two of you. Seth’s the only one going out and living his life, while you both are hopeless.”
Casey started to protest by saying, “But I worked all day today, so—”