When All Is Said(52)

‘Would you not have a look. You should see the size of the steak. They do this surf and turf thing, it’s to—’

‘I’ll be having plain chicken breast with mash and gravy.’

You reached a hand and laid it firmly on Rosaleen’s.

I got my chicken.

‘Pan-fried chicken on a bed of mash covered with “maple jus”,’ the waiter said, when he put it down in front of me.

For a while, I stared at the plate, as big as a hubcap as I recall. I knew you were all watching me watching it. After a moment I scraped off the brown liquid from the chicken and transplanted what was left of it to my side plate. Next, I scooped away the soaked outer layer of the mash with my fork and lifted out any whiteness I could find underneath, putting it alongside the chicken. The hubcap, I pushed into the centre of the table and proceeded to eat my dinner from my side plate, refusing to look at any of you.

‘Is everything to your satisfaction?’ the waiter asked, arriving back to us after a bit.

‘Dandy,’ I replied, on our behalf.

‘Excellent. I’ll just take this for you,’ he said, reaching for the forlorn plate in the middle of the table. Not a flinch out of him. Professional to the end.

By the time dessert was finished, a very creamy affair as I recall, all I really wanted was to get out of there. I needed the air. But you wouldn’t hear of me having a stroll.

‘I thought this was one of the safest cities in the world?’

‘But let’s not take any chances tonight, OK, Dad? The coffee won’t take long.’

I was all set to protest when Len or Lenny or was it Lev, the boss, arrived. He pulled up a chair beside me and seemed mighty interested in what I thought of the place.

‘It’s grand,’ I told him, throwing in a smile, knowing I was on show.

On the other side of me, Sadie enthused enough for the both of us, so I sat back and let her at it while my fingers drummed on my napkin.

‘You’ve got yourselves a fine boy here,’ Lev said, pointing over at you, smiling, showing off his perfect white teeth. ‘He’s going to be big. You heard it here first folks, that boy is going places.’

Sadie clapped her hands in delight. You beamed and laughed, and Rosaleen stretched her hand to yours. Me? I nodded to the tablecloth wondering how much longer. But I wish now I’d smiled over at you, given you a wink that said, ‘Sure, don’t I know.’

And then you took me to meet Chuck Hampton. It had been Lev’s idea apparently. He suggested I might like to go meet his friend the farmer. We left early one morning, passed the bench outside the post office and it wasn’t even light yet. We must’ve been on the road about two or three hours, listening to flashy news stations that seemed more interested in selling us things rather than news coverage, before we pulled into his place. I wasn’t sure if we were even in New Jersey any more.

‘You’re mighty welcome, sir.’

I was barely out of the car when that greeted me. I looked behind and a man of around sixty approached with an outstretched hand. I shook it. That hand said all I needed to know. The rough feel and the strong grip told me I’d found a piece of home. He spent the day with us, well me, anyway. You sat on the man’s porch with your laptop. I don’t remember at what stage it was, but you came running down to us in one of his red-painted barns saying you had to go for an hour or so to get better Internet coverage.

‘You need to go to Sully’s café. Three miles north, turn left at the tree stump.’

You looked at Chuck with a quizzical smile.

‘You’ll know it when you see it. Just head on out that way.’

‘Don’t be worrying, son,’ I told you, as you ran off waving your hand with that laptop in your other. ‘You take your time. I’m in no rush.’ I turned back to Chuck and all he was telling me about the heifer standing in front of me.

We drove his land. At times we got out to walk it. Picking up fistfuls of the soil and smelling it.

‘Lots of good Pike County sun and rain. No pesticides, just love and care.’

I reached for some and rubbed it, not the same richness as my own, drier and less dense but I couldn’t deny the man its quality. We walked among corn stalks and wheat and grass to see his herds beyond. You could’ve left me in those fields for the rest of the trip and I would’ve been happy to sleep under the stars with a smile on my face. Listening to the foreign sounds of that world. Coyotes instead of foxes, crickets instead of owls. It was into the afternoon before we returned to the house where I met his wife and a most welcome bowl of soup with what they called ‘biscuits’ on the side. Turns out they were scones, I corrected them on that.

You came back around four, all apologies.

‘I was just about to put this man to work,’ Chuck laughed, coming down off the porch to shake your hand.

‘I tried to call but I couldn’t get a signal.’ You held your phone up to the sky.

‘Yep, it’s a bit hit and miss out here. Come on in and have yourself a bite to eat.’

We sat on the porch for another half hour or so, with me mithering that poor man over prices and co-ops and seeding.

‘The big boys have it sown up, Maurice, if you’ll excuse the pun. Can’t use our own seeds no more. They sue anyone who does. Have to buy theirs. Good friend of mine Kurt Lettgo, a seeder out Mission way, was put out of business. His family been doing that for four generations.’