Eating Alone - Camilla Basham

All I did was make him a mud pie. How was I supposed to know he’d eat it?
~ Ruthie

My days are pretty busy, Yep, I guess. Searching for the elves that live under the clover in my back yard, playing hotel with Charlie and cooking my world famous mud pies, I have a pretty full schedule for a kid. Some folks might think I’m a little old to be doing this sort of stuff, but really, there’s not much else to do.

Some of my weekends are busier than others, like the time my sister told me I was adopted. I spent days searching for those adoptions papers with my fingers crossed. I never did find them no matter how hard I looked. I would have waved them in the air, packed my Barbie suitcase, grabbed Charlie by the leash, said “Look, no hard feelings.” to my family leaving them each with a kiss and a pat on the head and headed out to the great unknown. Unfortunately, it turns out she was teasing me.

Some days when Mom is busy, I’m left to entertain my grandpa whom we call Pop. He had a stroke years earlier and calls me Ava for some reason, so I call him Frank. He drools a little, but then again so does Charlie, either way the two of them are just as much fun as any kid my age.

I figured we could play restaurant and I’d make him one of my fabulous mud pies with chocolate chips. My Lite Brite pegs could be the chips with the added benefit of being colorful. So, I went to work mixing it all together using my trusted yellow Frisbee as a pie pan. Charlie assisted me.

I presented Pop the work of art. “Sir, a dessert fit for a king.” He held it up to his face smiled and proceeded to tip the Frisbee to his wide opened mouth taking in all the mud and Lite Brite pegs. Make no mistake this made him the coolest playmate ever but at the same time it caused me to be jolted out of my make believe world. “Grow up, Ruthie!” a voice screamed in my head.

I tried to pry it from his hands but he had a death grip on it. “Frank, let go!” mud splattered his chin, dripped down his neck and I heard him gasp for air. “Pop, let go!” Not knowing what else to do, Charlie began humping his leg and panting.

Pop went to the hospital that night. I never made another mud pie and to be honest, I’m not even sure there are elves living in the clover.