Dinner at 7 am

Funny things happen when you’ve been working nights too long. When your awake at night, life takes on a dreamlike quality. Then, it seems like when you are sleeping during the day, you just dream about what you would like to be doing if you were awake. Then, when you wake up, you don’t even feel rested. I woke up just about as the sun was going down yesterday. I had been dreaming about a barbecue, and my best friend from high school, Daniel, was there. The two of us were trouble, before he moved away. And, we used to throw these parties. Let me tell you.

Daniels parents were rich and used to take vacations like every other weekend. They would just leave Daniel alone at the house, because he didn’t get along with his step mom or something. But they had this dope patio, with a big grill and a pool and all that. So we would barbecue and invite all sorts of people, especially girls. Those girls would come over and strip down to bikinis and just jump right in the pool. I would sit by the grill, checking the food and just watch those girls for hours, while sipping on Daniel’s dad’s beers. Daniel was allowed to drink, but he usually wouldn’t get too drunk. He was always swimming with the girls. I would hang back at the grill though, because Daniel didn’t know anything about grilling. His parents didn’t either I don’t think. The grill was propane, and charcoal is better, but we still had fun though.

Grilling is in my blood. Back before he died of cancer, my pop was the barbecue king. I guess that made me the prince. My dad would barbecue a quarter or half a hog on a special occasion, and everybody in the family would come down to eat. Most everybody was a cousin or a aunt or something, but it didn’t matter. If you lived in the hood, then you were invited. Daniel never came to those parties though. I never invited him. I mean, It might have been cool if he came, but it might have been awkward, too. He would have been the only white person there, plus I got that one uncle that is racist as hell. Though, come to think of it, I was usually the only black person at our pool parties at Daniel’s house. I guess when you are a bunch of kids it don’t matter so much, but my dad’s parties were more a family thing, and there were never any white folk there.

Daniel moved away after tenth grade, to Vermont or New Hampshire or somewhere like that, way up North. Then, I dropped out of high school after eleventh grade. It just wasn’t fun anymore after Daniel left. He didn’t care about anything. If you dared him to do something, he would do it. We had fun like that. I would think of something crazy we could do, and he would be like, “Lets do it!” I don’t have too much fun these days. I feel like I’m a old man. I’m only just twenty-six, but I feel like I’m forty-five or something. I still like to grill out, though, out back behind my little apartment. My patio isn’t all that great. I got a little charcoal grill, a stool and a small table. That’s all you need when you’re grilling alone anyways. My neighbors probably think I’m crazy, grilling at six thirty and seven o’clock in the morning. I don’t care what time it is. When you get off work, you want some good food and a cold beer. Definitely if you have to work with your crazy uncle in a closed department store, vacuuming and cleaning toilets. After smelling clothes, and cleaning chemicals all night, you wanna sit out in the fresh air and smell some burgers or ribs grilling. My skills don’t seem as good as they used to, though. I don’t know if it is because I am slipping, or just because there is no one to tell me how good the food is.

This morning after work, I fired the charcoals up and grabbed up these two nice steaks I had bought the day before. They were gonna be good no matter what! I always grilled extra, too, so I could eat a steak sandwich or something later own. Lucky for me too, because I had an unexpected guest. I threw them down and it wasn’t long before they were ready to flip, because you don’t want to over cook a good cut of steak. As I was flipping them, I hear some rustling in the woods up the hill, behind the apartments. I looked up, and there was a big black bear looking right at me. He looked surprised, not scared or angry. He just looked surprised, maybe because I was grilling steaks at seven in the morning. He was just watching me, and I watched him right back. I have heard that bears are pretty shy, and that you are supposed to stand up tall and scare them away if you see one. When it is just you and a big black bear, that don’t seem so smart to challenge him to me. I didn’t want to run away and leave my steaks there either though. I leaned back on my grilling stool, really easy and grabbed for my beer to take a sip. I didn’t show any fear like when you’re around a pit bull. The bear sniffed up in the air, and then started walking and sliding quickly down the steep hill, right for me. “Shit,” I said. I stayed right there though, even though he was coming quick. He slowed down and just strolled right up to the grill to take a whiff. He backed off with a gentle grunt, from the heat I figure. Then he looked up at me. His face had changed but still wasn’t scared or angry. He sat back on his butt and just watched the steaks grilling. That was when I realized I wasn’t breathing. I took a couple of deep breaths before I sipped my beer again. The steaks seemed to take forever. It couldn’t have been that long though. You don’t want to overcook a good steak.

I was scared to pull them off when the steaks were ready. I didn’t want to provoke the bear somehow. Those were some good steaks, though. I couldn’t just let them burn up on the grill. The bear was just sitting there, easy as could be, so I figured maybe it was cool. I know you are not supposed to feed bears, but I stuck one with a fork and lobbed it over to him anyway. He stood up and sniffed at it and looked at me a little nervously. “Shit,” I said. I remembered that I had forgotten to season the steak. The bear picked up the steak and basically began chomping it whole, except for the pieces falling out of his mouth. He was even crunching on the bones. He didn’t even notice there wasn’t any salt on that steak. Then, I pulled the other steak and slapped it on my plate. I sprinkled it with some salt, pepper and garlic powder that I had right there on the table. It would have been better if I cooked them in, but I forgot. The bear huffed and looked at what was doing, and then at me. He looked a little mad. Then, he sneezed, or something. He must have had a sensitive nose, I thought. He picked at the pieces he had dropped. I wasn’t waiting for him to come after my steak, so I cut into it and began to eat quickly. It was a little overdone. When the bear finished, he was licking his lips. I had only finished about a third of my steak. That was one polite bear, though. Either that or he just didn’t like salt, pepper and garlic powder. He didn’t even try to mess with my steak. He just sat there while I ate.

After I was finished, I washed it down with some more beer. The bear was still just staring at me. I stared right back at him. I was a little nervous though, about what might happen next. I would have offered him a beer, but I don’t know how he would have drank it. In hindsight, I guess I could have put it in a bowl or something. We just sat there a while. I wanted to tell him that I needed to go take a shower and get some rest, but I didn’t want to upset him. I guess he was kind of tired too though, because it wasn’t too long before he let out a yawn and got up. He started lumbering back to the hill. He kind of struggled, slipping and sliding, as he climbed up, but then he finally made it. When he did, he looked back for a moment. “Bye bear,” I said. The bear disappeared into the woods. I wondered if I would see that bear again sometime. My mind wandered a while and then, I began wondering why me and Daniel never kept in touch. Then, I remembered. He had never called me after he left. He had my number, and said he wouldn’t know his until he got there. He said he was going to call me, but he never did. I guess that’s the way it goes though. We never talked much anyways. We just made trouble and threw good parties.