Jeremy loathed these visits with his old aunt Violet. They always started like this, the endless questions that never evolved into an actual conversation. (What is going on with your hair? Are you still chewing on your fingernails? Are you trying out for the tennis team? ) And it was understood that the questions only flowed one way, anything outside of the standard health and weather inquiries were strictly forbidden. But this was the burden of orphan-hood, monthly visits for tea where she reviewed his basic needs and should anything be lacking, a list drawn up (socks, underwear, ink refills for his grandfather’s fountain pen, another thesaurus and a latin/english dictionary). Within weeks a delivery would arrive at school. But in the longest luncheon known to teens he would form his answers in full sentences while watching his aunt’s freckled wattle bounce and sway as she chewed on watercress and cream cheese. The corners of her mouth grew gummy with the masticated paste of tea sandwiches. After enduring this he was finally free to blow the five hundred cash in an adolescent fit of his design.
8 min 3.18.13; inspired by a comment at Cheese Magic, Kensington Market
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