“Hi,” Jack beamed at me. He wore a simple tee shirt with Dickies, but it was the first time I’d seen him in pants. I suspected that this was his attempt at dressing up, and it made me smile.
“You’re early,” I told him. I held the door open, but I hadn’t let him inside yet, so he stood in the hallway, giving me an odd look. Milo had been behind me in the kitchen, noisily preparing something, but he hadn’t made a sound since we’d heard the knock at the door.
“Is that a bad thing?” Jack asked.
“No, not really,” I admitted, and finally took a step back so he could come inside. He smiled at my brother and his eyes quickly scanned the apartment. “My mom’s just not awake yet.”
“Oh.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that it was after seven. “When does she get up?”
“I’ll go get her now,” Milo offered, wiping his hands on his jeans and stepping away from a pan.
“Oh, sorry,” I fumbled, realizing that I hadn’t introduced them. “Jack, this is my brother Milo. Milo, this is Jack.”
“Nice to meet you.” Milo did a little half wave/half nod combo, and then darted off to get my mom.
“I think I make him nervous,” Jack told me quietly.
“Everyone makes him nervous.”
We stood rather awkwardly in the kitchen, although I did feel slightly better now that he was around. He had a kind of calming effect on me, but I didn’t know if that was good or bad.
My mother squawked things rather loudly at Milo, so I decided to make conversation to drown out the sound of her.
“So, are you hungry?” I gestured to the pans of some kind of Italian creation Milo had been making on the stove. “Milo’s making something delicious. He’s a really good cook.”
“Actually, I just ate.” Jack smiled sheepishly and put his hand on his stomach. “Sorry. I figured that since we were meeting so late, you’d probably already have eaten. And Mae insisted on feeding me.”
“Oh, that’s okay.” But I felt more nervous.
I wasn’t that hungry and I could really care less if he ate or not. Without the distraction of eating, a conversation with my mother would be much less pleasant.
Then a tantalizing idea occurred to me. Maybe we could just turn this into more of a meet-and-greet kind of thing, where Jack could say hello to my mother and then just sweep me away.
“So… do you wanna go someplace or something?” I asked.
“I thought I was meeting your mother.” Jack looked confused and pointed to my mother’s closed bedroom door, where Milo was trying to convince her to put on some pants to see Jack.
“I mean, after that,” I clarified. “Since you’re not eating. It would be silly to sit around here and watch them eat.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“I’ll live.” There were like ten million places to eat in the Cities, and this was the only one that included strained dinner conversation with my mother.
“Alright,” he shrugged and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “What did you have in mind?”
“Pretty much anything, as long as it’s not here.”
“I’m up!” Mom shouted, and a few seconds later, Milo rushed out of her room, looking rather frazzled.
“She’ll be right out,” Milo said.
He went back over to the stove and stirred something simmering in a pan, looking relieved to be back cooking instead of with Mom.
“Do you need help with anything?” I offered.
Freshly washed vegetables sat in the sink, and he had two pans on the stove boiling with food, not to mention the oven was preheating for something.
I felt guilty about him making this massive feast on my behalf, and I wasn’t even going to eat it. Well, later on tonight, I’d dig into the cold leftovers and watch cartoons, but that wasn’t the same as sitting down to it.
“You can slice some of the vegetables if you want,” Milo glanced back at me.
“What are they for?” I pulled out the cutting board and a knife, setting them on the counter next to where Jack leaned. Grabbing a tomato and green pepper from the sink, I repeated the question to Milo, who’d become distracted by seasoning a red sauce bubbling in a frying pan. “What am I cutting the vegetables for?”
“The salad.” He tasted the sauce, which must’ve satisfied him, because he flipped off the stove, and pulled out a cake pan.
I think he was making some kind of special lasagna with all types of homemade everything, but I couldn’t be sure because when he explained things to me, he always used culinary terms that I didn’t understand.
“Everything smells fantastic,” Jack complimented him.
Milo had his back to us, but I could see his cheeks reddening a little as he laid out noodles in the pan. Maybe Milo wasn’t completely immune to Jack’s allure either.