To Build a Home

Communication Fails

"Michael," Grammy said. "Sit down. We need to have a talk."

"Er—okay. Have I done something wrong?" Mike asked cautiously, immediately wracking his brain to think of things he had done recently that he could potentially be in trouble for.

"No, no. Not at all. Relax, dear. I just want to talk to you," Grammy said comfortingly.

Mike sat down nervously on the edge of his chair, not much appeased. His found that his appetite was suddenly gone.

"Go on, have some food. You're skin and bones what with this recent growth spurt you've had. Come on, we don't want you to waste away while I talk now, dear," Grammy encouraged. Mike tentatively dished himself some of his Grammy's famous homemade lasagna. He took a small bite and then poked at the rest a bit so that it would look like he had eaten more.

"Okay, I'm eating, you can talk now," Mike said politely, hoping Grammy would get a move on and tell him what was up.

Grammy sighed concernedly as she looked at the barely touched food. Mike had a bad feeling about where this conversation was about to go. "Have you been sleeping alright, dear? You always look tired these days. Is anything going on?" Well, that was a roundabout way of addressing the issue, but Mike knew what Grammy was getting at. Naturally, he feigned ignorance and denied everything.

"What do you mean? I'm fine," Mike attempted to say this brazenly, but it sounded unconvincing and pitiful even to his own ears.

"Harvey called me today to ask if you were okay," Grammy said, cutting to the chase. "I missed it, so I called him back and left a message telling him that I didn't know why you hadn't been around and that I'd talk to you about it. And I invited him over for dinner next week." Mike looked away guiltily at this. He knew he shouldn't avoid Harvey; after all, it wasn't like Harvey had done anything wrong. But besides the guilt, he couldn't help but feel a warm flicker of happiness that Harvey was concerned about Mike and his whereabouts. And nervous at the potential of dinner with Harvey next week.

"Er, yeah, I haven't really had time to see him lately. I've been really busy, doing...you know..." Mike said fumblingly, gesturing broadly around the apartment and hoping Grammy would accept this pathetic response.

Grammy's lips twitched upward. "Doing what? Certainly not cleaning your room," she said in a tone of gentle admonishment. Mike had the good grace to blush slightly.

"Yeah, you know, I've been busy. With, um, school and stuff. Hard classes. High school stuff," he shrugged.

"Michael Ross, you've never had a 'hard class' in your entire life," Grammy declared. "Now come on, dear. It's okay to admit that you're having a hard time adjusting to living with me again. What you had...have with Harvey is special, and it won't hurt my feelings if you admit that you enjoyed living with him. I just want you to be happy."

Mike shrugged rather unhappily. "Yeah, sure, I guess I might miss him," he said nonchalantly as though it wasn't a big deal. "But just a little!" He qualified defensively. "And I told you, I've just been too busy to go to Pearson Hardman, Grammy. That's it. Can we please not talk about this anymore?" He said, fighting to keep his temper in check. He knew that Grammy only wanted what was best for him, but he was afraid she'd make him do something embarrassing, like call Harvey to talk about his feelings or something awful like that.

Grammy seemed conflicted, but she seemed to sense that Mike was just going to shut down if she continued pressuring him in this vein. "Alright," she said. "The other thing I want to talk to you about is Henry Morris."

"Oh," Mike said in pleased surprise. That was a much better topic than Harvey. Feeling much better about where this talk was heading now, Mike began eating his lasagna with much more gusto than before. "Okay. What about Henry Morris? Where's he at, anyway?" Mike asked through a mouthful of delicious Italian food.