I shake my head and laugh as they stuff several pieces in their mouths at once, making a plan to cook up some more bacon after I finish the eggs. “How do you like your eggs, Carson?”
His eyes widen as he rushes to chew before roughly swallowing the pile of bacon. “Umm, however you make them, I guess?”
I reduce the temperature of the induction burner and look at him. “You don’t have a preference?”
He shrugs. “Never really ate a lot of eggs. My parents never made them for me and it wasn’t something I ever considered learning to make for myself.”
An audible gasp drops from my lips as my mouth drops open. I cannot let this injustice stand. “That’s not right. You hold on a minute then, kid. You’re getting the kind of eggs every kid has to have at least once in their life.” I push the lever on the toaster before cracking six eggs into the pan. “And you’re getting some too, Jared.”
The boys scarf down the rest of the bacon while I cook up a modified version of my favorite breakfast from when I was a little kid. The look on their faces when I pass each of them a plate holding three sunny-side up eggs with a pile of toast cut into sticks beside them is one of utter confusion. Jared’s had bacon and eggs with toast many times in this house, but I think this is the first time he’s seen me cut the toast this way.
“It’s my version of dippy eggs and soldiers. See? The toast sticks are like little soldiers and you dip them into the eggyolk before taking a bite. Traditionally, you’re supposed to use soft-boiled eggs for the dippy eggs, but I’ve always preferred it this way. If you guys want to try it with the soft-boiled eggs, though, I can pick up some egg cups next time I go shopping.” Maybe. Now that I’m thinking about it, I can’t remember ever seeing egg cups at the store. I might have to order those online. Thank God for online shopping.
Both boys look at me with confusion, their eyebrows scrunched up in identical grimaces that say, “what is with this guy?”.
“Just try it. Dip your toast into the egg. It’s a silly way to eat eggs and toast. It’s not that serious.”
One by one, they each pick up a stick, dip it into an egg yolk, and take a bite. The matching smiles they wear as they immediately begin to shovel down the rest of their breakfasts tell me I made the right call. I know dippy eggs with toast soldiers is a dish usually served to little kids, but neither of these boys had the luxury of having normal childhoods. They didn’t have anyone in their life who cared enough to cook eggs and cut toast into strips, and I needed to fix that. I care enough that I will make them dippy eggs and toast every day if that’s what it takes to show them how much I care.
While they finish their breakfast, I cook some more bacon, then make myself some eggs and toast and join them. As soon as the plate of bacon touches the tables, they both grab several more pieces. We eat in a companionable silence for a few minutes, each of us enjoying our breakfasts. But the silence can’t last, not with two teenage boys in the house, and not with so many things we need to get done as soon as possible.
“So…what the heck is an egg cup?” Jared asks.
Carson stifles a laugh. “I thought he made that up.”
I grin at the two of them. After everything they’ve been through, especially with Carson’s recent loss, that they can sithere with me and laugh at something as silly as an egg cup, well, it’s truly a blessing. I know things won’t always be easy, but if I can give them moments like this, moments where they eat a big breakfast and laugh at something ridiculous, everything will be alright.
“Egg cups are exactly what they sound like. Cups for eggs.”
The boys both snicker, fighting hard to contain their laughter. “But why?” Carson asks.
“So you can eat your soft-boiled egg, of course. First you have to chop a bit of the top of the shell off, then you use a spoon, or your toast soldier, to scoop out the inside of the egg. If you didn’t have a special cup to hold your egg, it would be pretty hard to do any of that.”
They burst into laughter, the loud, gleeful sounds echoing off the walls of the mostly bare kitchen, and my heart swells. I came to Tuft Swallow hoping to start a family, and here all I had to do was wait for one to find me.
After they calm themselves, Carson looks over at me, a small smile on his face. “You know, I think I might like to try the traditional style of dippy eggs after all.”
I smile. “Okay. I’ll track down some egg cups and we’ll have traditional dippy eggs and soldiers.”
When we’ve all finished our food, the boys clean up the plates and load the dishwasher before heading back upstairs. Jared is helping Rhett with the Spring Chickens movement class today, which leaves me with some time to talk to Carson about how he’s doing.
I don’t really understand it, but he doesn’t seem very broken up about the fact his parents died last night. Although, if what Gloria was saying is true, and this kid raised himself for most of his life, then he probably mourned his parents long before they ever died. I don’t know much about what it’s like to be raised by alcoholics, but it makes sense that he wouldn’t have a powerfulreaction to their passing if they weren’t there for him much to begin with. It makes sense, but that doesn’t make it any less sad.
I’ve just finished ordering egg cups in several ridiculous styles when my phone dings with a message from Tina.
Tina
Don’t worry about it. I kind of had an emergency of my own to deal with, but we’re at a standstill right now. I’m in Spitz Hollow picking up a few things for a friend, but I can grab some groceries and swing by your place to make dinner later if you want.
Swing by? Doesn’t she have to work?
Nick
You’re taking the night off? Must be a big emergency. Is everything alright? Anything I can do to help?
Tina
I’ll tell you about it later. How many people am I feeding?
