The Stories of the Sufferers

Nicolas Terrence's Peculiar Habit

Nicolas Terrence was a peculiar man of twenty-six. He was cross-eyed, had long, dirty hair, a lanky body, and a new wound every Sunday. One week, he would have stitches on his forearms and the next on his calves. None of his neighbors understood the reason, for Nicolas never conversed with them.

Nicolas would treat the wounds himself. He did not wish to seek a doctor as he must make a new excuse every week. It would cost him a lot of money which he did not possess.

He resided in a single bedroom mobile house in St. Paul. He was living off a gardening job and inheritance money. His brother, Miles, died of a heart attack when Nicolas was twenty-five. Miles was a prosperous man with a terrible diet. The brothers were close and were the only children created by absent parents. As expected, the aftermath of the tragedy was self-inflicted injuries from Nicolas' end. He began having obsessive concerns over his meals.

Nicolas was conscientious over the food he ate. He ensured every meal had a special type of food that he believed would keep himself healthy. He was ignorant of the negative effects it would have on him. One day, his parents surprisingly came over for the first time in a year. He decided he would serve the special food to them and see if they enjoyed it.

For most of the visit, the situation was awkward between the family. Nicolas had barely socialized in years. His parents questioned him about the patch on his arms, and he replied explaining how he fell on a couple of pieces of glass two weeks prior (which was a lie). They also noticed he had a limp but figured it may have been caused by glass, too. When lunchtime was nearing, Nicolas felt apprehensive. He worried about whether his parents would disapprove of the food. To ease the anxiety, he brought up football: a common interest they all shared. Soon, the awkwardness vanished, and all that remained was an engaging discussion (and some arguments) on that topic.

"It's lunchtime now," Nicolas announced after half an hour. "I made all the food from scratch."

He hobbled to the kitchen, retrieved the food, and served the meal. It consisted of barbecued ribs, mashed potatoes with gravy, and garlic bread. They all dug into the food. While his parents were eating, Nicolas eyed them. He scrutinized them take bite after bite of the ribs. He watched as they paused for a drink, ate some mashed potatoes, and turn back to the luscious ribs once again.

"Oh my word," his mother started. "Nicolas, I didn't know you were such an excellent cook. What is your secret ingredient?"

Nicolas beamed at the compliment and the curiosity. "It's my ribs. Delicious, ain't it?"

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