I can’t believe this guy. He puts so much sugar in his coffee. Like, so much. For a senior, for someone at his age, how isn’t he diabetic? He must be pre-diabetic. Or at least his teeth are rotting. I hope he flosses. It’s just incredible. Harry, seriously, could it be any sweeter?

I can’t believe this guy. Almond milk in coffee? What’s wrong with young people these days? My poor wife uses it in her cereal on account of her intolerance, but not in coffee. At least he’s still talking. Something about the internet. I can’t follow, but it buys me time to think of something to say when he stops. But what the heck can I say? They never trained me for this in the Marine Corps back in the day. Quite the contrary. Quite the contrary, indeed. Maybe I’ll make some toast.

Oh good, he’s making toast. That buys me a few minutes. Was I just talking about my job? I hate when people do that. But I don’t know what else to talk about. I mean, I know exactly what I should be talking about but I thought we could ease into it a bit. Find a little common ground, maybe. He doesn’t seem like a Drag Race fan. I can’t imagine he’s got thoughts on the new Gary Janetti book. The dusty Cormac McCarthy’s don’t look recently touched, but you don’t need a spark to understand what a room full of gunpowder could mean. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I shouldn’t ask. The sound of the knife spreading butter onto the toast is like scraping a nail file on the inside of my ears. I need to eat something.

Oh good, now he’s boiling water for oatmeal. Never liked the stuff. What’s he doing with that? Flax seed? Pumpkin seeds? Is he a bird? I shoulda just made my scramble and hash like I wanted, but the missus said to see what he wanted for breakfast, and darnit, I shoulda just listened to myself. This toast is dry and uninspired. He’s probably one of those non-meat eaters. Vegan-tarians or something like that? Bite your tongue, Harry, just bite it hard. You promised yourself you could do this.

I really wish they didn’t leave us here alone. I mean, It’s a good thing. I know that. It’s useful. It’s necessary. It’s 2024, and we should be able to do this. I promised I’d put on my big boy pants and get it done. To ask the question. But I can’t expect miracles. It’s unnerving. I’m off my game. This oatmeal is super gummy. And why were there so many Confederate flags on the drive here from the airport? Sure, that probably doesn’t really mean anything anymore. But he’s got a history I can’t begin to comprehend. I gotta ease into it. Just don’t be a jerk, Jake. Just don’t.

I really wish they didn’t leave us here alone. I know it’s a sort of test, and I’m no ignorant sonofabitch. We gotta get along. I seen the shows, watched the movies, read the books. The wife and me have been ready for this, ready for a long time. But old bones creak more loudly than young ones, and I’ve just been an out of tune orchestra these past years with the changes heaped on us. Sometimes it ain’t fair. I know that’s selfish. But it’s even more selfish to ignore what’s goin’ on here. I think of my kid’s face. I think of those other kids who been in the headlines for all the wrong reasons. Can’t imagine what their parents were feeling. Don’t want to know, really.

Maybe it’s time. I guess I should just go ahead and get it over with. I need to ask. This is archaic, really. Backwards and a little insulting. But if an old dog can even attempt new tricks, who am I not to at least acknowledge the old tricks that no one quite cares for anymore? I can honor them. I can respect them. I can pretend to appreciate them. If it brings peace, what does it matter? If it keeps everyone together, why not blend the old and new? Does looking in the rearview mirror diminish progress if the car’s still moving forward?

Maybe it’s time. I could get up, go check the garage and work on the car a bit. Leave him here to sip his almond milk with coffee in it, or whatever vegan-atarian abomination he’s drinking. Can’t fault the kid for having bad taste. Taste is subjective. Choices are choices. We all make them based on what we got in our pockets and hearts, I suppose. I’d have imagined a different choice for my kid, but my parents didn’t much like the choices I made either. Joining the Marines, skipping college, marrying a woman three years my senior. It all felt right. Still does., no matter what they ever thought. I paid for my bad choices. Only thing was, I called em good ones.

This coffee is especially bad. I don’t know why I put almond milk in it. To do something with my hands, I guess. He’s finished his toast. He looks agitated. I guess he always looks agitated. Maybe the coffee’s kicking in and he needs to pee. Maybe I have to pee. I didn’t imagine this to be an ordeal. It’s not fair. It wasn’t this hard for my brother. I know it wasn’t. Difficult conversations come with the territory, I know, but I’m sick of it, sick of wondering what the reception will be, what the facial expressions will hide, what they will reveal, what the aftermath will be. Every conversation is a little nuclear reaction in a new power plant, unsure how stable the infrastructure is or if it will level everything within a five mile radius. I’m thirty-two years-old. Things should really be easier by now.

This coffee is especially bad. I think I put too much sugar in it. I never put that much sugar in my coffee. He spooked me, I guess. He’s particular, and contagiously so. The dainty little clinking of his spoon on the mug made me feel like I wasn’t doin’ something right. But sugar in coffee? Criminal. I wish I had to pee. It’d give me a reason to get up, push the chair back, and escape this little situation. Damnit, Harry, you faced worse than this in the Marines. Just stay put and sip your awful coffee. You’re seventy-two years-old. Settle down and be the adult your family expects you to be. Don’t be like your father. Look what he missed. 

Just ask. This is it. Just ask.

He’s got that look. I seen it before. Herb back at the auto shop had the same look when he needed two grand to get him outta that day at the horse track that went horribly wrong. This boy might be in trouble. It’s a far way to drive down here from Chicago just for a terrible cup of coffee. Must be in trouble. It’s that nervous look. A look that’s all too ready to absorb rejection in the furrowed brows and creased cheeks of a forced smile.

Is that his foot tapping the table in beat with mine?

He’s tapping the table, too. Lord help us both.

They’ll be home soon. I should get this over with or I’ll never hear the end of it when they do. I promised, endlessly, that I’d ask.

They’d better be home soon so I can get on with my day.

OK. Two feet on the ground, Jake. Two feet on the ground.

He stopped tapping the table. I probably shoulda got the checkbook before I sat down. Kids these days.

Put down the coffee, Jake.

I need more coffee. Pot’s looking empty.

Shoot, is that the front door?

Sweet merciful Jesus, I think I hear the car. Hopefully they’re—

“Mr. Litchfield—er, Harry—Harry, I wanted to ask you something important.”

“What’s that, now?” 

“Well, I know it’s important to Fred that I ask, or that you know, or that we, um…”

“What is it that y’all need?”

“No, well, you see, actually, I’m asking you for your son’s hand in marriage.”

“Come again, son?”

“I want to marry Fred, and I know it’s important for your daily to respect traditions, and I know it’s not quite a traditional situation, but I, well, I thought, we thought, together, that it would be proper, or at least nice, or just respectful, to ask your permission, or blessing, or maybe it’s stupid, but there, well, there it is.”

Ha.

Shit.

Oh boy.

Shit. Shit.

“So you don’t need money?”

“No, Harry, sir, not at all. Just your blessing.”

Golly. Oh boy.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Well Jake. Will you stop putting that fake milk crap in your coffee?”

“Oh, I usually don't add anything. That was a bad choice, I know.”

“Your choices are your choices. But I think Freddie’s the best one you’ll ever make, son. Let’s make a fresh pot before he and the lady of the house get in here. And put this sugar away. Never liked the stuff in my coffee, anyway.”