Page 24 of Jacob Michaels is Not Crazy

“Sit your ass down at the table before I kick it.” She jabbed a gravy covered spoon at the table with a laugh.

Following her command with a chuckle, I sat down and sipped at my juice, then switched to my coffee. I needed something warm and comforting on such a cold day.

“You know how to start a fire?”

“Are you thinking of arson, or…”

“In a damn fireplace, ya’ idiot.” She rolled her eyes even though she was amused. “I was gonna put a fire in the fireplace after breakfast, but if you know how, I’ll put you to use for once.”

“I can probably figure it out.” I shrugged. “It’s been a minute since I’ve used a real fireplace.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Most the ones I’ve used were gas and turned on with a button or the turning of a knob.”

She waggled her head.

“Now, I’ve made some biscuits, good ole sausage gravy, bacon…”

“Oh, good. Heart attacks all around.”

“…and you’re gonna eat all I give ya’.” She snapped. “You’re still too damn skinny and I don’t want you to look like this come spring. I wanna be able to take you out in public without getting looks. At least, not for the wrong reasons. Also, if you’re going to be tumbling in the sheets with Lucas all the time, you need the extra calories.”

“Ew.”

“Just tellin’ it like it is.” She shrugged. “Besides, the food will help warm ya’ up. Nothing like a thousand calories at breakfast to raise your body temp.”

“I suppose.” I chewed at my lip.

Oma looked over at me with a frown.

“What?”

“Just come out with it, ya’ asshole.” She waved the spoon in the air. “I can tell you got something on your mind. So just say it or ask it or whatever you need to do.”

I sighed and took a sip of my coffee. How was it that Oma could always tell from one thing I said or one look I gave that I had something weighing on my mind? I guess she wouldn’t have been my grandmother if she couldn’t read my behavior.

“It’s nothing really,” I replied. “I just woke up and thought about texting Lucas to invite him over for…I don’t know. No reason. Just to invite him over.”

“So?”

“That just seemed a little odd is all.”

“Robbie,” Oma chuckled, “once you’ve seen a man’s balls, it’s hard to call anything else awkward, right?”

“Oma.”

“Well, hell. If you can see that, you can surely invite a man over for breakfast or coffee or just to have a nice leisurely chat. Not much is more awkward than a ballsack, Robbie.”

“From the owner of a ballsack, and also your grandson, I ask that you never utter the word ‘ballsack’ again in your life.”

“All’s I’m sayin’.” She shrugged. “I mean, you two are…friendly…he’s my friend, he can be invited over without it being weird. I don’t want to see you two going after it, though. My heart couldn’t take that.”

“Oh, you volunteer at the LGBTQ center, but two guys smoochin’ is too scandalous for ya’?” I teased.

“It’s not because it’s two guys, ya’ dipshit. I’m just old and ain’t gettin’ none myself. I don’t need to be reminded that those years are behind me now. Your Oma is dried up like a prune.”

“Ew.”