Eat me.

 Eat me. 

Fate’s arrow, anticipated, travels slow. – Dante*

We were hardly out of bed. We were barely dressed. We were sitting down to coffee at his kitchen table. Uncle Albert leaned back in his chair, said, “Shit” the moment before the doorbell rang. He looked at me. I got up and went to answer.

Gentle lap the winter waves onto Paradise’ shores.

    There was a rangy woman with long straight gray hair, pulled into a pony tail. She wore a tight, purple down-filled jacket, jeans, hiking boots. She looked over my shoulder toward the kitchen. She raised the grocery bag she held in her right hand in front of her.

     “I’ve brought breakfast,” she said – over my shoulder.

     “Come in, Iris,” Uncle Albert said. “Ask Iris to come in, Ted.”

     “Come in, Iris,” I said and stepped aside. She walked before me into the kitchen. She put the grocery bag on the table, unrolled it, took out an aluminum pan covered with aluminum foil. She went to the cupboard to the right of the stove, took out three plates. She pulled open the drawer to the right of the sink, pulled out a knife and three forks. She found a small spatula in another drawer. She took off her jacket, hung it on the back of my chair, and sat down in it.

     “Fix Iris a cup of coffee, please Ted,” Uncle Albert said, “one sugar, lots of cream.”

She was older than I am by at least ten years but younger than Uncle Albert by that and more. She had brought a breakfast casserole with eggs, sausage, onions, cheese, almost as sweet as salty. And she’d brought oranges. She cut us each a square of the casserole; she peeled three oranges.

     We ate. She asked Uncle Albert where he’d been, but she didn’t wait for him to answer. “Never mind,” she said. “I know.

     “I know,” she said again. “This is Ted,” she said, looking at me.

     “Yes,” Uncle Albert said, “Mad Ted.”

     “So I hear,” Iris said.

After she left, I stuck out my tongue at Uncle Albert. I lay my head on my left shoulder and rolled my eyes.

03.04.17

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*chè saetta previse vien più lenta – Paradiso XVII.27