Page 108 of In The Game

“Yes, Barrett. Explode.”

Better get this kid some food. “What are you hungry for?”

“Cereal.”

“Cereal?”

“Why do you keep repeating me?”

I laugh.

“Cereal is my favorite food.” I know it’s his favorite, but shit, where the hell do they serve cereal for lunch?

I pull into a drab hole-in-the-wall twenty-four-hour diner. If any place has cereal, this is it. When we get inside, the restaurant is practically empty. A few seniors sit around one table, but we’re the only other people here. I grab the menu and flip it over.Cereal.Perfect.

Arthur chooses which empty booth looks best and we barely sit down before we’re greeted, well, acknowledged, by an older waitress holding a coffee pot.

“Can I get you something to drink?” She sighs and sets down a paper kid’s menu and a single yellow crayon. An upside-down coffee mug sits on a saucer in front of me. I flip it right-side up and she fills the cup.

“Chocolate milk, please! And a bowl of cereal.” Arthur sits up with pride. I smile at his boldness, he’s normally shy around strangers, but he’s been coming out of his shell so much more since I’ve met him. He’s got such a great personality.

“Frosted Flakes or Cheerios?” The waitress asks.

His little forehead wrinkles. “The good Cheerios or the gross ones?”

That coaxes a half smile out of our battle-axe of a waitress. “The gross ones.”

“Let’s do the Frosted Flakes, then. But can I keep the menu? I still have to help the pig through the maze so he can find his boat.” He taps the illustration on the corner of the paper. I try not to laugh at his earnest request.

“Sure, hun.” Her eyes crinkle as she smiles bigger. He’s a charmer, like his dad. She turns to me, and the smile fades away.Then again, maybe the charm comes from Raleigh. “And you?”

“I’ll have the same, chocolate milk and Frosted Flakes. Thanks.”

“Easy enough.” She takes my menu and walks off.

Arthur scans the dining room of the dingy café. Peeling wallpaper, there’s patched holes on the vinyl bench we’re sitting on, and a steady hum coming from somewhere. Possibly an old commercial freezer…or maybe it’s one of the flickering fluorescent lights above us.

He genuinely nods in approval. “Nice place.”

I bark out a laugh. I love that he sees the good everywhere he goes.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“Mmhmm,” he says. His eyes trained on the maze.How can he even see what he’s doing?The shitty yellow crayon barely shows up on the white menu, I’m half convinced it’s just an old birthday candle wrapped in paper.

“Me too. It’s going to be a fun trip for all of us. Do you think your mom will like it?”

“Uh-huh. She likes you.” He scribbles where he ran into a dead end and starts back at the pig again.

“How do you know she likes me?”

The waitress returns and sets down the tray with two bowls of cereal and two glasses of chocolate milk. One tall and one short. We say thank you, and she wanders toward the table of older men to check on them.

“Mom smiles when you’re around.” It pleases me to hear, but it makes me wonder if he thought she was unhappy before.

“Maybe she’s being polite.”

He shakes his head and talks with his mouth full. “No, she has a different smile when she’s polite. She has a real smile with you.”

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