Early-morning writing

The take-your-order guy, also known as a waiter in case you forgot restaurant terminology, looks from one face to the next. “You folks ready?”

 

“Yeah,” your father says, “I’ll have the kippers and eggs.”

 

You find kippers disgusting, but what does it matter? You don’t have to eat it. You know your father will try to pull family-style on you, though, lifting from his plate, stealing from yours. Share and share alike, right, Steve? Adam always manages to slip out of this tradition, leaving it to you and your father to share even though you hate sharing food – probably because you grew up on this horseshit.

 

You order the Reuben – a whole, not a half, with a side of matzoh ball soup. You can hear Adam silently losing his mind. You’ll never finish this meal. You’ll never even begin to consume these mass quantities. But they won’t go wasted.

 

“I’ll have two latkes,” Adam says, knowing he’ll be able to tuck into your food. Share, as we say, and share alike.

 

Coffees and waters all around, and take-your-order guy retreats to the kitchen to get matters going. “But,” your father says, “we didn’t order anything for Baz.”

 

“He’ll eat what we eat.”

 

Your father regards Adam as the human equivalent of shit on a shingle. “Will he eat what we eat?” he asks you.

 

You shrug. Of course he will. Or, rather, he’ll eat a piece of toast, nibble on some type of meat or another, maybe deign to try a latke, and all will be well. Your father seems to regard your son as some type of strange space creature with his own set of rules and regulations. He’s just a damn kid. You love him, he’s your heart, but he’s just a kid.

 

Here’s the thing, though: you’re jealous of him, jealous of the fact that your father takes such an interest in him. When he was first born, your father said: “I’d like to come up every few months to watch him grow up. I don’t want him not to know his grandpa.” Touching, true, but also dispiriting. You lived in the same house as him for 18 years and he rarely showed interest in your knowing him. Times change, of course, but let’s face it: our hearts continue to sing the same song.