The Summer We Let Go

Chapter Two

Carter

          "I wanna lock you up in my closet, and kiss you without a sound... I wanna put your hand in my pocket because you're allowed..." I mumble the lyrics as I stir the pancake mix, the butter sizzling in the pan. I'd sing it louder if Gramps wasn't right there, writing and then scribbling out his answers in the crossword puzzle of the day. He gives up, tossing the pen onto the table and turning the page to the comic section probably, taking a sip of his coffee.

          I pour a tiny bit of the mix into the pan and cook that pancake first because everyone knows the first pancake is a dud. Or do they know? I learned the hard way that without the first bitty pancake to soak up the excess butter grease, the first few pancakes turn out soggy and yellow and are essentially wasted anyway. Or maybe I just use too much butter.

          "She's cool and she's cruel, but she knows what she's do-in..." I sing this song louder, cuz I know it's not as inappropriate for old ears. I glance over my shoulder at the man I'm censoring for. "Hey, Gramps, do you want silver dollar pancakes or huge ones?"

          "Huge, of course! You know that," he says, smacking his lips as he finds his place in the comic he's on.

          "Just making sure, Gramps," I say, flipping the dud pancake. "When my hair's all but gone and my memory fades... and the crowds don't remember my name..."

          I decide to stick with that song as I finish up, throwing the dud out and pouring two big pancakes in the pan, plus a few smaller ones around them, preferring the silver dollar size. The bacon's almost done. I should really pay closer attention, but the popping grease scares me, and I have to wrap my hand in a hand towel each time. Which gets annoying, but at least it's delicious as an end result, right? And it's turkey bacon, so it's healthy, too. Not that Gramps knows, of course. He'd refuse to eat it if he did.

          Once everything's all cooked and ready, I set our plates on the table and slide into my chair. Gramps grins and rubs his hands together eagerly, some sort of ritual he does before every meal. "Thanks, Artie, smells and looks delicious!"

          I drench my plate in syrup and take a bite. Through a mouthful of pancake I state, "Tastes delicious, too."

          "Mmm, that it does," he agrees, tearing into some bacon. He gulps it down before speaking again. "So I have an idea about the yard this summer, so you don't have to do so much work watering the flowers."

          Here it comes. Gramps always has ideas, ways to minimalize effort or manipulate something you already have in place of something you could buy that's actually meant for the job. For instance, instead of buying a sprinkler for the flowers... "Oh, yeah, and what's that?"

          He chews slowly, innocently, like this isn't just another crazy scheme he's got but an actual good idea. "Well, I was thinking that if we wound the hose up around the flower beds, and poked little holes in it, it could water the plants hands free and take less time."

          He's proposed this idea the past two years—you'd think he'd know my thoughts by now. "Gramps. That could work, but what if you need the hose for something else? Like to rinse soap off the car or for rinsing off the mud from your boots, or—"

          I stop when he holds up a hand, defeated. "I know, I know. It was still a good idea, though..."

          "All of your ideas are good, Gramps." They're just not realistic.

          We eat quietly for several more minutes as I give him space to chew over his rejection, and when we're done I wash the dishes, singing Stay With Me under my breath while Gramps informs me about random ongoings in the media and town, how his buddy accidently over tipped at the diner with a twenty instead of a five, and how Cheryl, the older lady down the street, was giving him the eye while he was out tinkering in the garage. I don't know if Cheryl actually checks out my grandpa, but it's been an ongoing joke that she does, even though she's never made an appearance over here.