“That’s all I wanted from you,” Grant said softly. “You’re not my dad; I’m not your responsibility; I know that. I just know how tight you and Ike were, and…”
“Listen,” David shook his head. He took a moment to gather his racing thoughts. “Ike was my best friend. We grew up together. We experienced things together. It could never be the same with us that it was with Ike and me. I was grown by the time you were born, and I had been there and done that. Everything that you went through, I had already gone through. Instead of going through it with you, I could offer you advice on it instead. I got to see you in a totally different light than I saw him. But, Grant, that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you every bit as much as I loved him. You and I might never be best friends, but Ike was never what you are to me. The role of bratty, kid brother is all yours, man, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Sometimes I just feel like I’m a disappointment to all of you,” Grant shrugged. “Ike was the brother you needed…he’s the son dad wanted…he’s the reason Mom cries over little things that I don’t understand. To all of you, he’s this real and irreplaceable person who made such an impact on all your lives. He’s the person I get compared to each and every day, whether you realize it or not, so it’s not fair that, to me, he’s just a picture in a frame.”
“No,” David replied sincerely, “it’s not fair, Grant.” He paused as he put his hand on Grant’s shoulder. “I know that it’s not really the same as getting to know someone, but if you ever want me to tell you about our brother, I’d love to do that.”
“Boys, bring that stuff up here if you expect me to pay!” Randy called.
Grant and David stared at each other. “This conversation is a little heavy for gas station chit-chit, don’t you think?” Grant said, finally.
“Why do you shut down just when we’re getting somewhere?” David sighed.
“Boys, do I have to light a fire under you two?” Randy hollered as Wally and the girls placed their selections on the counter.
“I mean it, Grant,” David nodded. “I’m here for you.”
Grant’s mind drifted to the night before.
“Boys, we are off schedule,” Nora cried. “Make them hurry, Randy. I think they think it’s funny to make me keep having to revise the itinerary.”
Randy stared at the boys as they approached the counter. “Where is it?” he exclaimed. “You have got to be kidding me! The two of you are about worthless! I swear! I gave you one order, and…” He squeezed the back of Grant’s neck. “Go find your old man a frosted honey bun.”
“You don’t need one; you’re getting fat,” Grant replied, and everyone else snickered as Randy’s face turned red.
“I’m not getting fat,” Randy said seriously as he seemed to examine his physique.
Grant strolled down an aisle in search of a honey bun as everyone waited at the counter. Honey bun in hand, he continued scanning the shelves.
“Get something and come-on,” Joanna called.
“Bring that honey bun up here,” Randy added.
“I want yellow Zingers,” Grant insisted.
“Son, your mother has enough food up here to feed an army,” Randy laughed.
“I want yellow Zingers,” Grant repeated.
Melissa turned to the young, frail, acne-faced attendant who was running the register. “Excuse me, where are your Zingers located?” she inquired.
He looked up from the Rubik’s Cube that he had been toying around with since the Cohens had entered the store. “I don’t think we carry them,” he shrugged, in a voice that was oddly monotone.
“Grant, they don’t have them here,” David relayed.
“I want yellow Zingers.” Grant continued looking.
“Zingers…that’s a funny word,” Emily laughed.
“I thought this guy was supposed to be some sort of genius,” David chucked. “If I wanted chocolate Zingers, I wouldn’t ask for brown Zingers! They’re vanilla, right? Isn’t that what he means?”
“David, nobody wants to hear your dissertation on snack cake etiquette,” Joanna grinned.
“I was just sayin’…” David shrugged.
“Grant, come-on; he said they don’t have any,” Emily frowned.
“No,” Grant grumbled, “he said he doesn’t think they have any, but, as long as he has been screwing around with that Rubik’s Cube, I don’t know that I trust his judgment.”
“Will this be all for you?” the boy behind the counter asked Randy.
Randy nodded as he reached for his wallet. “Yes, this and that frosted honey bun he has in his hand, if he’ll ever get up here with it.”
“Grant, you’re whining over a snack cake,” Joanna chuckled.
Grant finally approached the counter with a shrug, placing his dad’s honey bun on top of the pile of other snacks. “I’ll have you know that this thing is a lot harder than it looks,” the cashier said defensively, surprising everyone with his burst of nervous agitation.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Grant smiled with a wrinkle of his nose.
“If you’d like to give it a shot, you’ll see it’s impossible to do,” the cashier added. The young man slid the Rubik’s Cube across the counter, posing an obvious challenge.
Grant picked up the toy, and, with a few fast and furious, quick, sharp turns of his wrists, the puzzle was solved. He tossed it back across the counter, much too hard. “The customer is always right. Remember that,” he winked.
Randy shook his head as he slapped a five dollar bill in Grant’s hand. “Run across the street and check for Zingers. Be back by the time I get in the van.”
“Mom, if he’s not back, that is only going to delay us longer,” Joanna said for no other purpose than to get her mother all riled up again.
“It won’t hurt us to be a few minutes behind,” Nora declared. “Just as long as he gets what he wants.”
