“Don’t make that face,” he laughs. “It’s ugly. Come on. Let’s go get breakfast.”
It’s 4 in the afternoon, and my grandpa wants to get breakfast with me. I shake my head, impatient but never annoyed. No. Now’s not the time to get breakfast. It’s 4 o’clock in the afternoon.
“I’ll go get my tail,” he tells me as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Wait here.”
He doesn’t move from his place on the couch. All he does is bore his lifeless eyes through my body, telling me over and over that he is going to get his tail. To wait here. To wait for him while he gets his tail. His hand rests rigidly on the armrest and I reach for it. I shake my head, petrified and eyes stinging. No. You don’t have a tail. Do you mean your socks? Are you looking for your socks?
His delayed laugh sounds like that of a mule hauling lumber, coal, and hay across the countryside. He knows every inch of the way, but just isn’t able to put the pieces together. I am his granddaughter. He always gets breakfast when he sees me. His socks are white. His wife’s rabbit has a white tail.
His laughter stops and his eyes are vibrant again. My hand leaves his to wipe away an escaping tear. He is remembering...!
“Are you my daughter? Can you get my banknotes for me? I need to go to the bank.”
I give up! I let my oxygen get cut off by sobs. I should have just gotten breakfast at 4 in the afternoon. Please, Grandpa. Let’s just go get breakfast. Grandfather and the only granddaughter who has ever cared. Let’s go get breakfast. Then you can go the bank with Mommy.
Please.
Let’s go get breakfast.
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