He put on his t-shirt and followed us inside. He smiled at me as he wiped sweat off his forehead.
“It’s a scorcher out there,” my grandfather said to Nana, his tone opposite from when he spoke to me. He walked over to the sink and poured cool water on a cloth. He placed it on his pink neck.
“Your face is red. You’re supposed to be wearing a hat out there,” she said and touched his face.
She kissed him on the cheek. I admired their relationship. They were still affectionate after so many years and still in love. I wondered if my mom and dad had been the same way. I know that they had married young and went to high school together. In my mind, they were high school sweethearts, soul mates destined for each other the moment they met in freshman English class. I don’t know the true story of their meeting, of what caused the sparks. My mother never shared much with me about their relationship. It has always been easier for me to have a romantic picture of them.
We all sat down to eat lunch. The kitchen smelled of bacon. Nana had made BLT’s. I felt my grandfather staring at me as I ate. I tried not to look at him. Jesse sat next to me. His dark wavy hair was wet from sweat, his shirt soaked. He smelled good despite being outside all day.
“So Finn, have you ever had a job?” my grandfather asked.
“I volunteered at the American Cancer Society last summer.” I shrugged.
“What’d you do there?” he asked.
“Answered the phone, stuffed envelopes and filed,” I said. I bit into my sandwich.
“But you’ve never had a job where you got paid,” he continued.
“School preoccupied most of my time,” I said, suddenly feeling like I was on trial.
“When I was your age, I worked and went to school,” he said.
“It was different back in the olden days,” I said a little sarcastically, annoyed by his abrasive behavior. Nana and Jesse laughed.
“Leave her alone, Charlie,” she said. “Finn’s young. She’s got her whole life to work.” She smiled at me.
He ignored her. “You should work.”
“I will once I graduate from medical school,” I said. That had always been the plan anyway.
“That’s not the same. That’s white collar work, clean work. You need a job where you get your hands dirty.” He leaned forward, looking me square in the eye.
I folded my arms. “How is that going to help me?” I asked irritated.
“You want to be a doctor right?” he asked. He moved closer to me, intimidating me.
“Yes,” I said almost afraid to answer him.
“A lot of your patients won’t have money and will be blue collar workers, the kind of work where you get your hands dirty. You need to be able to identify with them, rather than looking down at them like they’re nothing,” he said. Then he looked at me directly in the eyes, “I saw how you were pulling weeds, how you reacted to getting your hands dirty. You didn’t like it. If you don’t like that, then your patients will know you look down on them, too.” He stood up, towering over me.
“Charlie, that was harsh,” Nana said trying to calm the situation.
“She needs to hear the truth, Lilly. That mother of hers has done her a disservice. Making her think that she’s too good to get a job. By the time Pete was sixteen, he worked at the grocery store and our diner. He was playing sports at the time and making good grades, too.” He looked at me with a smirk. “She hasn’t even had one job and she’s eighteen.”
“Charlie, that’s enough. I will not have you insulting her like that,” Nana said angrily.
“Fine. Let her never experience real life,” he said throwing his hands up the air.
I sat there quietly, too struck by what he said to say anything. I questioned everything my mother had taught me. She had always insisted that I didn’t need to get a job, that school was more important. Hearing him, what he said about experiencing life, hurt me but a small part of it made sense. I failed miserably in the social aspect, failing to make friends and never getting a boyfriend. I wasn’t one of those teenagers that worked at the fast food restaurant or the mall earning minimum wage. I wondered if I had failed in that aspect of my life, too?
“One of my waitresses just quit. How about you fill in for