Home Again. Joan Elliott Pickart

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hello, Joey,” Mark said.

      “’Lo,” Joey mumbled.

      “I’d like to chat with you a bit, Joey,” Cedar said, extending one hand toward the little boy. “Shall we go into my office? We’ll let your Uncle Mark stay out here and finish reading his magazine.”

      “No,” Joey said.

      “Hey, buddy, we talked about this,” Mark said. “I’ll be right here waiting for you, I promise. You go with Dr. Kennedy.”

      “Call me Cedar, Joey,” she said.

      Joey frowned and looked up at her. “That’s a weird name.”

      “Oh, cripe,” Mark said, shaking his head. “Joey, you don’t tell someone that their name is weird.”

      “Well, it is,” Joey said.

      Cedar laughed. “It’s different, that’s for sure. It was my mother’s last name before she got married. She thought by sharing it with me, it would connect us in a special way.”

      “Is your mom dead?” Joey asked.

      “No, she isn’t,” Cedar said. “She and my father live in Florida now. I miss them very much.”

      Joey folded his thin little arms over his chest. “You’d miss them more if they were dead people ’cause you couldn’t talk to them on the phone or nothing. Nothing.”

      “I never thought of that,” Cedar said. “Let’s go into my office and you can explain it to me further.”

      Joey slid off the sofa, but ignored Cedar’s outstretched hand. Cedar smiled at Mark, but he just shook his head again, a frown on his face.

      “Did Joey get a snack, Bethany?” Cedar said. “Busy boys are hungry after school.”

      “He certainly did,” Bethany said. “He had a juice box and a granola bar.” Her secretary was a plump woman in her early fifties, who was in the process of consuming her own box of juice and a granola bar.

      “Good,” Cedar said, then placed her hand lightly on Joey’s back and guided him into her office, shutting the door behind them.

      In the office Cedar patted the seat of one of the chairs fronting her desk, then sat down in the other one once Joey was settled.

      “How come you’re not sitting behind your desk like the principal or something?” Joey said.

      “I like to sit here when I’m getting to know a new friend.” Cedar paused. “Joey, would you like to talk some more about how you can’t speak with your parents on the telephone?”

      “No,” he said, drumming his fingers on his thighs and watching the repeated motion.

      “Okay. So, tell me, do you like your teacher at school?”

      Joey shrugged.

      “Have you made some new friends?”

      Joey shrugged.

      “Are you getting along all right with your Uncle Mark?”

      Joey shrugged.

      “Are you tired of eating scrambled eggs?”

      Joey’s head snapped up. “Those eggs are so gross. They’re never good. Sometimes they run all over my plate and sometimes they’re hard as a rock and…I hate scrambled eggs the way Uncle Mark cooks them. Totally, totally gross.”

      Cedar nodded. “They do sound gross. Have you told Uncle Mark you’d rather not have scrambled eggs anymore?”

      “No. No, ’cause he…he might get mad at me or something and tell me I can’t live with him, and I don’t have anywhere else to live because…because I don’t.”

      “Because your parents were killed in the accident?” Cedar said gently.

      “That’s none of your business,” Joey yelled.

      “Okay. Let’s go back to discussing those gross scrambled eggs. I’ll make a deal with you.”

      Joey narrowed his eyes. “Like what?”

      “I’ll be the one to tell your Uncle Mark you’d rather not have scrambled eggs again. I guarantee that he won’t get angry about it.”

      “Bet he will. He’s grumpy.”

      “We’ll see,” Cedar said. “I’ll do that for you, but you have to do something for me. That’s how this deal works.”

      “What do I have to do?”

      “Well, if you don’t want gross eggs, we have to decide what you do want, then teach Uncle Mark how to make it. You invite me to your house and we’ll give him a cooking lesson. That’s your part of the deal. You invite me over and we, together, show Uncle Mark how to make your choice and tell him it can’t be gross when he does it. How’s that? What would you like to eat instead of scrambled eggs?”

      Joey shrugged.

      “Well, I guess you’re stuck with gross eggs then.”

      “No, wait,” Joey said. “I’d rather have chicken with barbecue sauce. I really like that. But Uncle Mark can’t ever learn how to make it. No way. He got a big fat chicken one time and stuck it in a pan without barbecue sauce on it or nothing, just a fat naked chicken and we waited for it to cook and stuff, you know? I was really hungry and hours went by and then Uncle Mark figured out he didn’t turn on the stove right and the stupid chicken was just sitting there. Cold. I mean, that is so dumb.”

      Cedar laughed. “So what did you have for dinner? No, let me guess. Gross scrambled eggs.”

      A hint of a smile appeared on Joey’s face, then disappeared in the next instant.

      “Yeah,” he said. “Eggs again.”

      “Okay, my new friend. We’re in business. I’ll buy what we need to make barbecue chicken, bring it to your house, and you and I will show Uncle Mark how to fix it.”

      “He’ll never go for this,” Joey said, rolling his eyes.

      “Let’s find out,” Cedar said, getting to her feet. “I’ll go get him.”

      “He’s going to be really, really grumpy,” Joey said, then sighed.

      Cedar opened the office door. “Mark? Would you come in please?”

      “Yeah. Sure,” he said, getting to his feet and hurrying across the room. “How’s it going?”

      “Joey and I have something of great importance to discuss with you.”

      “Already?” Mark said, raising his eyebrows. “Hey, that’s terrific.”

      “Mark, you take the chair opposite Joey

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