“You didn’t say you were coming today!”Iaccuse him. “Iwould have gotten the day off work so we could spend some time together.”
“Oh no,” he begins. “Idon’t really think?—”
“Well, never mind,”Isay briskly. “You’rehere now soI’mgoing to feed you.”
Giving him one last smooch on his bristly cheek—he needs a shave butIkind of like the stubble—Islide down his long body and stand on my own two feet again.Idrag him by the hand over toTableSix, right by the window that shows the mountains.ThenIput one of our laminated menus in his hands and smile down at him.
“Get anything you want—it’s on me.”
“Oh no—Ican pay,” he starts to protest.
I give him a stern look.
“Not in my diner you won’t!Thismeal is my treat andIwant you to get whatever you want.I’llbe back in a minute, so you just study that menu and decide.”
I go back toMr.Cochran’stable and help clean the gravy off his shirt.He’speeved with me but he lightens up whenIexplain thatKaneis the big brotherIhaven’t seen in well over twenty years.
“Well…itisalways nice when family comes to town,” he allows, afterIget him all cleaned up and offer him a free slice of pie for his trouble.
“Very nice,”Iagree, smiling.
ThenIhustle back toKanewith a glass of ice water.
“Well?”Isay, raising and eyebrow at him. “What’llit be,BigBrother?”
“Hmmm…”He’sfrowning in concentration as he looks at the menu. “Ican’t decide.Whichis better—theBluePlateSpecialwith the meatloaf orGranny’sbuttermilk brined fried chicken?”
“Both are delicious,”Iassure him. “SoI’llbring both, since you can’t decide.”
He frowns.
“Oh no—Icouldn’t.”
“Yes, you can and you will,”Isay bossily, butIgive him a smile to let him knowI’mhalf teasing.Butserious too. “You’rea big guy—you can handle both,”Itell him.
In fact, my brother is a lot bigger thanIdreamed he’d be.Andhe doesn’t really look much like me.Ihave black hair and amber eyes likeMommadid.Iguess our fathers must have been really different looking guys.AlsoI’mshort and compact with wide hips and a big behind—thicccwith threeCsis howIheard it described a while back.Myboyfriend,Charles, is always after me to lose some weight butKaneheld me likeIweighed nothing whenIjumped into his arms.
These are all my thoughts asIhead back to the kitchen and put in both orders toCookie.
“And be sure you give him plenty of sides, too,”Itell him. “Theseorders are for my big brother.”
“The oneIsaw you climbing like a tree?” he asks, deadpan.
“The same.”Ilift my chin. “Hehasn’t had decent food in a long time, so make it good.”
“It’salwaysgood,”Cookiegrouses. “Youknow that.”
But he gets to work, dishing up the food.SoonIhave two piping hot platters to put on my tray.Oneis loaded with meatloaf and mashed potatoes and green beans and the other has fried chicken, buttery corn, and a heaping helping ofCookie’sfamous four-cheese mac ‘n cheese.Ican’t help but be proud whenIsee how good it looks—Ihope thatKanewill like it.
I add a big glass of iced sweet tea and carry the whole thing to his table.Hispale eyes get wide when he sees the spread.
“Oh myGod—IthinkIdied and went toHeaven,” he groans asIunload the tray, putting both steaming plates and the tea in front of him. “Thislooks fuckingamazing.Uh, sorry for the language,” he adds, looking at me.
I can’t help laughing.
“That’s okay—Cookiewill take it as a compliment that his food made you swear,”Itell him. “Goon—dig in.Ihave to take care of a few other customers butI’llbe back in a little so we can talk.”
I don’t have to tell him twice.He’salready spearing a bite of the meatloaf asIwalk off, a little smile playing around my lips.Ican’t believe how luckyIam—my big brother has finally come home!