encountered a very interesting problem with what I’d been eating. After nearly three decades of eating cold to room temperature food, anything even resembling hot food burned the shit out of my mouth and throat.
Sitting my plate on the table, I was barely in my chair when I tore into the first piece, devouring everything except for the crust. I was halfway into my second slice when Andrew pushed open the door. Simply pointing at the microwave, I inclined my head. “I warmed up a couple of slices for you.”
Andrew eyed my plate curiously on his way to recover his food. Pulling his plate out, he sat down across from me. He took a bite of pizza and swallowed before speaking. “Are you holding up all right?”
All things considered it was a very odd question. Swallowing the last bit of edible pizza, I placed the burnt crust on the plate. “It wasn’t my former wife that we laid to rest today. I’m far more concerned about how you are doing.”
Andrew didn’t say anything before taking a big bite of pizza, gesturing at the crust on my plate. “Are you going to eat that?”
Snatching my last slice of pizza off the plate, I pushed it towards him. “Absolutely not! I have to draw the line when it comes to filler.”
He scooped the two pieces of crust up in one hand and pushed the plate back. “Thanks.”
He was a little surprised at the cold crust when he tore off a bite. I finished off my slice of pizza before tossing the last of the crust onto the plate. I sat there for a moment, wondering where to start. This was hardly a typical day in the Randall household and I didn’t want to push my luck, but I did have questions.
I’d felt this way when I was in school on the reservation back home in Montana; awkward, shy, not knowing where to put my oversized form that wouldn’t upset those around me. “Uncle Andrew, I’ve got a couple of questions if you feel up to humoring me.”
Andrew picked up the last piece of crust and leaned back in his chair. “What’s on your mind, son?”
Where to start? I figured it was either go big or go home. “Who is Walter and what’s his problem?”
Andrew held one of the pieces of crust in his hand and tore at it with his teeth, using the time to figure out the best way to answer the question. “Walter was a friend a long time ago. We had a falling out of sorts a few years before you were born.” Andrew’s features darkened. His anger was almost palpable and seemed to radiate from him in waves of heat. “Back then I wanted to kill the man.” His face softened but his voice remained hard. “But Martha, being the kind and generous woman she was, made me promise not to harm him.”
I didn’t need all my years of training to sense the deep remorseful bitterness in his voice.
“And now?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He looked up at me with the closest thing to pure hate I’d seen in a long time. “And now, he simply isn’t worth the effort.”
There was something familiar in the tone, so matter of fact that it wasn’t the act of taking someone’s life that bothered him. It was clear he didn’t have an issue with it, but it was more a matter that someone was such a waste of space that to acknowledge them would allow them credibility they didn’t deserve.
I got up, grabbed the pizza box, and brought it over to the table, pulling out a slice as I set it down. “When we walked into the funeral home I felt weak, almost sick. You expected my reaction. How?” Taking a big bite of pizza, I sat there watching my uncle.
The anger faded from Andrew’s face. He leaned over, grabbed another slice of pizza, and put it on his plate. “Let’s finish our lunch before we get into something as complicated as that.”
I raised an eyebrow in his direction. “It’s not like I’m going to forget the question.”
Andrew snorted at the comment. “I’d be worried about you if you did. Finish your lunch. After that we’ll go into the living room, pour ourselves a
Sitting my plate on the table, I was barely in my chair when I tore into the first piece, devouring everything except for the crust. I was halfway into my second slice when Andrew pushed open the door. Simply pointing at the microwave, I inclined my head. “I warmed up a couple of slices for you.”
Andrew eyed my plate curiously on his way to recover his food. Pulling his plate out, he sat down across from me. He took a bite of pizza and swallowed before speaking. “Are you holding up all right?”
All things considered it was a very odd question. Swallowing the last bit of edible pizza, I placed the burnt crust on the plate. “It wasn’t my former wife that we laid to rest today. I’m far more concerned about how you are doing.”
Andrew didn’t say anything before taking a big bite of pizza, gesturing at the crust on my plate. “Are you going to eat that?”
Snatching my last slice of pizza off the plate, I pushed it towards him. “Absolutely not! I have to draw the line when it comes to filler.”
He scooped the two pieces of crust up in one hand and pushed the plate back. “Thanks.”
He was a little surprised at the cold crust when he tore off a bite. I finished off my slice of pizza before tossing the last of the crust onto the plate. I sat there for a moment, wondering where to start. This was hardly a typical day in the Randall household and I didn’t want to push my luck, but I did have questions.
I’d felt this way when I was in school on the reservation back home in Montana; awkward, shy, not knowing where to put my oversized form that wouldn’t upset those around me. “Uncle Andrew, I’ve got a couple of questions if you feel up to humoring me.”
Andrew picked up the last piece of crust and leaned back in his chair. “What’s on your mind, son?”
Where to start? I figured it was either go big or go home. “Who is Walter and what’s his problem?”
Andrew held one of the pieces of crust in his hand and tore at it with his teeth, using the time to figure out the best way to answer the question. “Walter was a friend a long time ago. We had a falling out of sorts a few years before you were born.” Andrew’s features darkened. His anger was almost palpable and seemed to radiate from him in waves of heat. “Back then I wanted to kill the man.” His face softened but his voice remained hard. “But Martha, being the kind and generous woman she was, made me promise not to harm him.”
I didn’t need all my years of training to sense the deep remorseful bitterness in his voice.
“And now?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He looked up at me with the closest thing to pure hate I’d seen in a long time. “And now, he simply isn’t worth the effort.”
There was something familiar in the tone, so matter of fact that it wasn’t the act of taking someone’s life that bothered him. It was clear he didn’t have an issue with it, but it was more a matter that someone was such a waste of space that to acknowledge them would allow them credibility they didn’t deserve.
I got up, grabbed the pizza box, and brought it over to the table, pulling out a slice as I set it down. “When we walked into the funeral home I felt weak, almost sick. You expected my reaction. How?” Taking a big bite of pizza, I sat there watching my uncle.
The anger faded from Andrew’s face. He leaned over, grabbed another slice of pizza, and put it on his plate. “Let’s finish our lunch before we get into something as complicated as that.”
I raised an eyebrow in his direction. “It’s not like I’m going to forget the question.”
Andrew snorted at the comment. “I’d be worried about you if you did. Finish your lunch. After that we’ll go into the living room, pour ourselves a
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