I realize I hadn't checked to see who was calling, since it's usually Eric. But the low, serious voice on on the phone can't be him.
“Yeah, who is this?”
“Jonathan... Why have you kept the secret so long?”
What? “Who is this?” I insist.
“Raw tomatoes with ranch dressing... I had no idea... how could I have known?”
Oh. It is Eric. Sometimes he's so expressive he's almost not himself... it's weird.
“I take it the vegetables are working out okay, then,” I say.
“Yes, except that I don't think the celery trusts me yet,” he says in his normal voice. “I tried to apologize for misunderstanding it, but it just lies there reproachfully.”
I smile. “Well, just keep working at it. The gardens of Athens weren't built in a day.”
A pause. “That's deep, man,” Eric says in a flat tone.
“Well, see ya.”
I go back to getting the mower down from the truck, then pause, wondering how Eric always knows I need a laugh. Then again, maybe he doesn't. Maybe it's just providence. Maybe he really does feel that strongly about food.
Are those clouds? Better get this mowed in case it rains.
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