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Iris took another sip of the cola and stroked his shoulder.
“Well, shame on ’em. Seems to me, Freda had a good man.”
“Sheee wasn’t like… me. She… was like… you.”
“Like me how?”
He jetted out his tongue and curled it toward the side of his mouth as he delved deeper into concentration with his drawing. A portrait of a person.
“Norm-mull.”
“You’re normal, Eli. Don’t nobody get to tell you otherwise. I don’t like that kind of talk. It’s disrespectful.”
He shrugged, then kept on drawing. “It’s o-kay, I-ris. Nooormal, is, boooring.”
She hooted at this. “We’ll, I’m glad you have a sense of humor about it, and you make a mighty fine point.”
“I haaad an-nother, giiirl friend, buuut, she… she… got on my nerves… Moooved my things, without, ask-king.”
Iris burst out laughing. “I don’t like that sort of thing, either, Eli. Just ask my niece.” She chuckled.
“Ahh… yawn-nuh.”
“Yes! Ayanna. You remember her name? That’s great. Most people can’t pronounce it right, but you said it perfectly. Well…” She slapped her legs. “Want me to start your dinner for ya? I know you know how, so you don’t have to give me that whole speech again about you being independent, honey, but honestly, I don’t mind.”
“Whu… what hap-pened, to the bisk-cuts…aaand, graaavy? You said… that… you… would—”
“Oh yes! I am going to make you some biscuits and gravy, Eli. I promise. Next week would probably work.”
“Yooou, all-ready, prom-missed… bee-fore that. Aaaand, be-fooore, that. It don’t… take… loooong… to make… it. Yooou… are… drag-ging… yooour feet. Yooou prob-bab-blee, caaan’t… cook!”
Iris burst out laughing, shook her head and put her hand on her hip. “Look at you, over there gettin’ sassy…tellin’ me I probably can’t cook. I would tell ya to make it your own self since you don’t think it take long, and want to accuse me of procrastinating, but let me tell ya, my biscuits and gravy are worth waitin’ for. They’re legendary. Now, in the interim, you’ve got this Stoffer’s frozen meatloaf with mashed potatoes in the freezer. I can make you a little side salad to go with it. You want me to do it for you, honey? I think I saw some Ranch dressing in your refrigerator, too.”
Eli kept on drawing for a bit, then nodded.
“Alright.” She made her way to his kitchen counter, opened his refrigerator and removed a head of lettuce, a small tomato, a couple of carrots and a cucumber that had seen better days, but was still edible. She put on a pot of water to boil an egg, and then washed the produce before slicing everything up in small pieces on a wooden cutting board. As she did so, she hummed to the music of, Luke Combs’, ‘Beautiful Crazy.’ Minutes later, she seasoned his food with a bit of salt, paprika and pepper, and a pat of butter for the potatoes, and placed it all, including the side salad on a tray, along with a blue cup full of iced tea. She sat it down on Eli’s table where he typically ate, then looked down, watching as the man continued to work on his sketch. Taking the salad off the tray, she set it just so, then placed a napkin down, with cutlery on top of it.
“Before I leave, Eli, do you need anything else?” She placed her hand on his shoulder. He was quiet for a moment, then held up the picture. She looked at it, and realized there was a car, and people with frowns on their faces. In the middle of the picture, was a small person who seemed to be held by a bigger person. The little person appeared to be bleeding and had X’s for eyes. The bigger person holding the little person, had tears coming out of their eyes. Though the drawing was rather crude and child-like, something about it stung, and hurt. There was no playfulness in the black graphite swirls and lines. Something about it made her skin crawl, the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and her soul cry. The pain of it all went straight to her core and twisted it like twine.
“Eli… what… what is this a picture of?” She asked as she took it from his grip, holding it with both hands.
“Thaaaat’s me, aaand Jewwwwd. He… he care-read meee… Car ack-sadent.” He scratched his head and began to rock. “I… got… hit. I was… a lit-tle boy… My paaarents, were not hooome. I raaan in the street and got hit… Jewwwwd was strong. He picked me… up… raaan with me… run-ning to the hosp-pit-tull. He care-read—”
“…me. He carried you…” She whispered, blinking tears from her eyes.Dear God…
“I understand now.” She slumped down in the chair across from him as he began to eat his food. “What made you decide to draw this today, Eli?”
She held onto the picture of a stick figure, with a face and body that was supposed to be Jude, bawling his eyes out. His little arms were bent as he held on to a bleeding stick figure child.
“Jeeewd is… hurt-ting. I waaant to show… him… hooow much… I… love… him.”
Swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, she placed the picture down at the foot of Eli’s bed. She wrapped her arms around him, but he just kept on chewing and looking up at the television, without a care in the world. Iris kissed the top of his head, then grabbed her jacket and purse.
“I’m leaving now, honey. I’ll see you next week, okay?”
He looked at her and smiled, then turned back towards the television, watching a show she didn’t recognize. When she stepped out into the adult center hall, she took a deep breath, dabbed at her eyes once again, and headed out, eager to inhale some fresh air…
A few days later…
