Page 132 of The Fed Sex Man

Tyson

“Seems weirder’n hell eatin’Sunday dinner at a house other’n my own,” John complained. “I guess with life, comes change.”

“Be nice, John,” Jackie said.

“I was bein’ nice, woman.”

“You could be nicer.”

John looked at Jo. “Steak’s mighty fine, Kidd-o.”

She smiled. “It’s Tyson’s family recipe. He found his father’s cook book when they were remodeling the home.”

“Family secret,” I said. “Marinate the meat in buttermilk overnight.”

Jackie grinned. “I’ll have to remember that.”

Having everyone in our home for Sunday dinner was a dream come true. Although I knew my father was absent, I felt like a part of him was always present in our home.

“The gravy’s damned fine,” John said.

“Credit to the magic stove,” Jo said. “That, and my cast-iron skillet.”

“That skillet was your grandmother’s,” Jackie said. “It’s prepared many a meal.”

“It’s going to prepare many more,” Jo replied.

Thoughts of evening meals at home, making our own memories, and feeling like I hadn’t forfeited my father’s legacy had me floating on cloud nine.

After we finished our meal, John retrieved the ice cream maker from the trunk of his Cadillac. Together, we made ice cream in the kitchen. Doing so reminded me of the day I repaired the machine in his garage.

We served the ice cream in special dishes that Jo had picked out during one of our many trips to Restoration Hardware.

I glanced around the table. Surrounded by my new family, I was exactly where I needed to be. I’d undoubtedly started living life late, but I was making up for it in quality.

I clanked my spoon against the side of my dish. “I’ve got two announcements.”

Jackie pushed her ice cream to the side and clasped her hands together. “Pay attention, John.”

“I can eat and listen at the same time,” John mumbled.

Jackie cleared her throat. “Jarod.”

“I’m listening.”

Jo looked up. “I have no idea what this is about.”

“Change,” I said.

“Oh, Lord.” Jo shook her head. “You are not making any changes to this home. Not one!”

“I quit my job,” I said.

Jo’s eyes went wide. “You what?”

“Quit.”

Jo’s eyes shot from her ice cream to me. “You quit your job?”