“Sure thing,” he said. “I’m glad you’re okay, is all. I started askin’ after you with your friends — you know Mike? That guy you were buds with in high school? I worked with him at Stella’s Bakery out in Ypsi.”

My stomach dropped. “I didn’t know you worked at Stella’s.”

“Oh god, I’m glad I got my break when I did. That was gonna kill me. It’s all right if you’re, you know, how old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Twenty-four. My god, I’m nearly fifty. I’m too old to be making bread all day.”

I nodded politely, unsure how to respond.

Our food came out a few minutes later — a long, wide plate of hash browns covered with vegetables and feta cheese for me, pancakes for him.

“Enjoy, guys,” the waitress said, ducking back inside.

“I never understood the appeal of that,” he said, as I covered the plate in hot sauce and ketchup.

“Haven’t you ever been stoned at three in the morning?” I said jokingly, taking a sip of coffee.

He looked at me somberly.

“Okay, okay, okay, fine, not the time,” I said, focusing on moving things around on my plate. “What have you been up to?” I asked.

He leaned back in his seat, clearly about to begin one of his speeches. “So, as you probably know, your grandmother died,” he said.

He always said your when describing our mutual relatives to me. He wouldn’t say my mother died. “I heard,” I said noncha-lantly, putting my fork in my mouth. “I was never close with her, and, y’know, I kind of fell off the map.”

“Yes, you did.” He shifted in his seat before continuing. “So, she left me the house on the west side, as well as a bit of money.”

“That huge brick thing? Are you gonna move in?” I was trying to sound offhand, unbothered, independent.

“No. Once I get the approval from the zoning board, I’m gonna turn it into a business.”

“So that’s what you meant by ‘working for yourself.’ What have you been doing in the meantime?”

“Right now I’m guttin’ it,” he said. “Takin’ all the furniture out. I’m payin’ my friend Irv to help cart her shit out, do an estate sale out of a warehouse in Ypsilanti. Easier that way. Half of it is expensive and half of it’s worthless. We got a huge dump-ster in her driveway right now. I think between what she left me and the profit from the sale, I can set up a bike store.”

My mouth was full of hash browns. I nodded for him to continue.