“Hey,” he said to me as he crossed the kitchen floor and grabbed a clean coffee mug and a K-cup for himself. As I watched him use the machine, I mentally added another one to my list.
Individual cups of hot coffee can be made in a wide variety of flavors with the push of a button.
I almost made a comment to Brady about him starting the day with coffee at his age, but thought better of it. I was drinking coffee at fifteen. “Morning,” I said instead.
He shuffled over to the fridge and pulled out a tall container of flavored creamer. “Dad get off okay?”
“Yes.” At last, a question instead of just an answer. “Can I take you to school today?”
“Nah. I got a ride.” The coffeemaker sputtered and spewed as it filled my brother’s mug, ending the cycle with an odd mechanical whir.
“I’m happy to take you. And pick you up after football.”
“Yeah, I know. I got a ride, though.”
Brady poured the cream in his cup and stirred it lazily. He turned to leave the kitchen.
“Brady, can you hold on a second?”
He stopped.
“Look, I just want you to know that I’m really glad I can be here with you while Dad and Liz are gone. And I’m looking forward to finding out what you’ve been up to since the last time we talked.”
“Okay.” His tone was cordial but void of warmth.
“Can we catch up at dinner tonight? I think I can figure out the grill. I could make us some hamburgers. Would that be okay?”
He blinked. “Sure.”
Again, he started to leave.
“Wait, Brady.”
Again he stopped. This time, I detected a sigh of annoyance.
“What?”
I moved closer to him so that just a few feet separated us instead of the entire kitchen. “Have I done or said something to offend you?”
“What do you mean?” There was no questioning lilt to his voice.
“You’ve barely said a whole sentence to me since we picked you up from school yesterday.”
“What would you like me to say?”
Was he serious?
“I guess I’d like you to tell me what it is that I have done wrong so we can clear the air.”
Brady took a sip of his coffee, but his eyes never left mine until he lowered the cup. “How could you have done something? You don’t even live here, man.”
He turned from me to head back up the stairs, but I called out after him, asking if he wanted eggs.
“Okay,” he mumbled, not even glancing my way as he went.
As a child, I had helped Mammi in the kitchen often enough to know how to prepare eggs. I sprinkled a bit of paprika on them as they were finishing, just like she did, and popped bread into the toaster. When Brady came back downstairs, he grabbed the plate I made for him, grunted his thanks, and took it over to the family room. He clicked the remote for the TV to an ESPN station and ate while he alternately watched the TV and fiddled with his phone.
I brought my plate into the family room too. I took a seat on the other side of the couch, set my plate down on the coffee table, and pulled out the phone Dad had bought me the day before.
“I have a cell phone to use while I’m here.”
“Yeah, Dad told me.” Brady didn’t look up from his own phone.
“Can I give you the number so you’ll have it?”
“Just text me. I’ll have it then. Dad said he gave you my number.” Again, no eye contact.
“Sure.” I found Brady’s name in the short list of contacts and tapped out a message.
How are the eggs?
I sent it and waited. Almost instantly, Brady’s phone made a trilling sound. He grinned ever so slightly and tapped a message back to me.
Not bad. Add some grated cheddar next time.
I responded with, Will do.
And then I quickly followed up with, Is there a camera in the house I could use?
He looked up at me when he got the message. “What do you want a camera for?”
“I don’t know. To use as a doorstop?” I smiled, but he didn’t exactly appreciate my attempt at humor.
“Well, duh, you know what I mean. What do you want pictures for? You can’t take them back with you.”
I shrugged. “I was thinking I might sign up for a photography class or something.”
Brady stared at me. “A photography class.”
“Yes.”
A few seconds passed before he responded. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No. No, I’m not. Do you have one? A camera, I mean?”
“I use the one in my phone. Dad uses his phone. My mom has a real one, but I’m sure she has it with her in Honduras.”
“Ah.” My heart sank. I hated the thought of having to buy one when I didn’t even know yet if I was going to like it or not.
“There might be a couple old ones in a cabinet in Dad’s study. I think I saw one or two in there when I was looking for an HDMI cable.”
I didn’t know what an HDMI cable was, but I supposed it didn’t matter. “Great. Thanks.”
“You’re only here for a month, though,” Brady said. “How much can one person learn in that amount of time anyway?”