Like a Damn Child

“It's not that you can't have it, it's just that....I don't want you to have it. Does that sound bad?” Kelly did her best to look as though the answer mattered.

“Hell yes, it sounds bad! Look, Kelly, I'm a grown man, and I can eat whatever I want.” Joe once again picked up the apple fritter that he'd generously slathered with a pat of butter (capped with a heaping glob of marmalade as the cherry on top) and prepared to indulge. Kelly placed her hand on his arm.

“Oh yes. You are a grown man, at least according to your age, height, salary, and especially that waistline of yours. I was under the impression, and of course I could be wrong, that grown men knew how to take care of themselves, and sometimes I think if I just disappeared you'd be dead within' the week.” She felt her face muscles contracting to show the early onset of heartbreak as Joe sank his teeth into the pastry.

Joe laughed. “I'm not going to die eating an apple fritter, Kelly-”

“Topped with butter and marmalade, no less.”

“Topped with whatever the hell I want to top it with, yes. It's just one apple fritter. You want I chase it with an actual apple?”

Kelly sighed. “I just wish you understood that I love you, and I'm going to be really angry at you if you leave me because you couldn't control yourself with those damn sweets, that's all.”

Joe thrust the apple fritter down onto the plate in disgust. “Dammit, Kelly, now I can't even enjoy it. I swear you treat me like a child. Like a damn child. It's just not fair, you know that? Everybody else gets to eat whatever they want, whenever they want, and here you got me eating asparagus and arugula and whatever other god-forsaken 'A' vegetables you can get your hands on, and the only 'A' I want right now is a god damn apple fritter!”

Kelly's eyes narrowed and she spoke clearly and deliberately. “I treat you like a damn child because you're acting like a damn child. Just listen to yourself.”

“I don't care. That's the beauty. I don't have to care. Right now I want to eat this because it tastes good, and in the grand scheme of things, what is it going to matter? It's just one apple fritter.”

“You're right, Joe. It is just one apple fritter. It's just one apple fritter to go with the Moon Pie wrappers I found under your seat to go with the entire package of Double Stuffed Oreos that disappeared from the freezer last week (although that's partially my fault for having them around in the first place). Oh, and I hope you've at least had the sense to sign up for the rewards program at the Shake Shack, because the beauty of a joint checking account is that I now know you are among their best and most frequent customers! So yes, it's just one apple fritter. Otherwise, you're a damn saint.”

Joe avoided Kelly's eyes. He stared down at the table and muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?” Kelly asked.

“Like a damn child,” Joe muttered, his eyes still fixed on the table.

“You poor, misunderstood man,” Kelly replied as she ran her hands through his hair. She always found his retreats strangely endearing. “Let's go, tough guy. It's about time to check your blood pressure, anyway.”

Joe used the metal, three pronged cane to steady himself as he eased up from the table. Kelly had, on multiple occasions, appealed to him to get used to relying on both legs to get him where he needed to go, but all the same he continued to favor the one with the fleshy appendage at its end to the one capped in plastic. His bad leg made him feel “like a damn robot,” he was fond of saying. Joe fancied himself a calls-it-like-he-sees-it type, but when it came to himself he was anything but.