The Hand That Feeds You by A.J. Rich

Author:A.J. Rich
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 2015-07-07T00:00:00+00:00

I was on my way to Steven’s for a halfhearted nod to Thanksgiving. He had offered to pick up the basics from Citarella and said I only needed to show up with the pie. I was about a block from his apartment when Billie called on my cell.

“I know how you’re feeling and I wanted you to know that you’re not alone with that.”

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” I asked, thinking that if she had no plans, I might invite her along to Steven’s.

“I volunteer at a soup kitchen—St. Cecilia RC parish in Greenpoint.”

I felt one-upped and tried to shake off the feeling. It was nice what she was doing; it didn’t have to mean I was selfish to celebrate with my brother.

“If you finish by eight, you’re welcome to stop by my brother’s for some pumpkin pie.”

“That’s a nice invitation, but McKenzie asked me to have a drink with him when I finished.”

I saw the aura that migraine victims experience before the pain kicks in. I felt helpless and blinded by fizzing light.

“Are you there?”

I realized I had said nothing in response to this news. “I’m here.”

“Did I upset you? Wait—you’re not interested in McKenzie, are you?”

“It’s too soon for me to think about something like that,” I managed.

“Of course. But you can see why I am. Humane and handsome.”

“I’m getting on the subway,” I lied.

Billie sent her best to my brother.

• • •

Steven had bought enough food for a dozen guests.

“I hope you have room in your freezer,” I said.

The TV was on, a documentary we’d already seen twice, about Danny Way, the guy who jumped the Great Wall of China on a skateboard. Waiting for Lightning was part of Steven’s collection of DVDs on extreme-sports heroes. We often watched together: Laird Hamilton and Travis Pastrana were in it, too. We found it inspiring to see the person who was the best in the world at what he did, and who had achieved this against heavy odds.

Steven had already set the table, even lighting candles. The effect would have been complete if he hadn’t been wearing flannel pajama pants and a THRASHER T-shirt.

“I could watch him every day,” I said.

“You want some wine?”

“I want a drink drink. You have any vodka?”

He took a bottle of Stoli out of the freezer. “You’ve earned it,” he said, handing it to me.

I poured myself a double. Steven did the same. We raised our glasses.

“To George,” he said.

We took our places at the table, surrounded by food pretty enough to be photographed. I put some of everything on my plate, knowing I wouldn’t be able to eat.

“I heard from Billie on my way over just now. I invited her to join us but she’s meeting up with McKenzie later,” I said, fishing for a reaction. Sometimes we ask for the very thing that will undo us.

“He’s seeing her again?” Steven asked, then saw in my face the weight of the word again. “Listen, it’s going to last about three minutes. In fact, the three minutes are probably up.

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