Oliver returned to his spot with a tray of food as Preston frowned at him from above within a transparent tube. He watched as Oliver said grace over his food and began eating, then turned his back toward Oliver and stewed.
He spent the next half hour or so moping or playing, always eyeing Oliver for any sign that he was inclined to leave. Oliver simply read his Bible while he dawdled over his meal, to Preston’s mounting anger.
Finally, Oliver stood to throw away the paper products from his meal. Preston whizzed down the slide to Oliver’s side and said, “Okay, you’re done eating. Can we go now? Let’s go.”
Oliver stretched and said, “Maybe after a few more chapters. Go play.”
Preston’s body tensed. “I wanna GO! What are you, some kind of retard? I’m sick of this stupid place! Let’s GO!” And on the word “go” he slapped at a metal napkin dispenser and sent it clattering to the floor.
Oliver glanced back at the front counter and said, “Now calm down, there’s no cause to damage other people’s property.”
Preston spotted another dispenser on another table. He grabbed the dispenser and flung it across the room where it bounced then struck a woman on the leg.
“I WANNA GO!”
Oliver said, “Stop that! Can’t you see you just hit that lady?”
Preston began shrieking and knocking any dispenser he could reach off its table.
“I WANNA GO! I WANNA GO! I WANNA GO!”
Oliver tried to corral the boy, but he escaped out the play area door and into the main eating area. He tipped over trash containers and hurled trays and salt and pepper shakers all the while shrieking “I WANNA GO! I WANNA GO! I WANNA GO!”
Customers sat in mute astonishment. Oliver chased Preston around the restaurant and the manager came out to help. They finally cornered the boy and Oliver said, “Preston, calm down! We’ll go, we’ll go.”
The boy clutched a bunch of ketchup packets, ready to fling them, but upon Oliver’s words, he lowered his arm and dropped them to the floor. He pointed to Oliver and said loudly to the manager, “You can blame all this on him. It’s all his fault.” Then he walked quietly out of the restaurant amidst stunned customers and a red-faced Oliver.
“Good evening, sir. Sorry for the trouble and the mess,” said Oliver, and then left quickly.
Preston hopped into the bed of the truck with the luggage, and Oliver did not attempt to force him to sit in the cab with him. As he started the engine, his eyes rolled heavenward, and he sighed, “That did not go as I’d hoped.”
It was about an hour and a half more before Oliver finally parked in front of his house. He went in and turned on the porch and interior lights, and returned to find Preston standing in front of the porch steps.
“I’m hungry.”
“Well, I have some fruit and roast beef and milk. How’s that sound?”
“How about pizza?”
“No, no pizza.”
“I mean, can’t we order one?”
“Afraid not. We’re at somewhat of a remote location in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Don’t you have anything else?”
“Soup. Peanut butter and jelly?”
“I guess I’ll take peanut butter and jelly.”
“All right.” Oliver stepped down to his truck, opened the tailgate, and grabbed two pieces of luggage. Preston followed.
“Aren’t you going to make me my sandwich?”
“After I get all your stuff unloaded. Or you can go make it yourself. Bread and jelly’s in the fridge, peanut butter’s in the pantry, knives in one of the drawers.”
Preston followed Oliver into the house, but stopped at the base of the steps and watched Oliver carry the luggage up. He meandered through the house until he came to the kitchen. When Oliver came through the front door with a second load, he said, “Hey, where’s your computer?”
“I don’t need one,” said Oliver as he trudged up the steps.
“Well, where’s your TV?”
“Don’t need one,” he said, as he turned on the landing.
“You gotta be kidding me!” muttered Preston to himself.
As Oliver came down the steps for another load, Preston said, “What am I supposed to do here all summer without a TV or a computer?”
Oliver chuckled and said, “Oh, don’t you worry about that. There’s no end of things to do on a farm.”
Preston frowned and followed him out to the truck and said, “What do you mean by that?”
Oliver grabbed two more suitcases. “I mean don’t worry about having nothing to do over the summer.”
“That sounds like you’re talking about work. Isn’t there anything fun to do out here?”
Oliver trudged up the steps again. “Oh, it’s all just a barrel of fun. Maybe you could scare up a few chuckles helping me carry this stuff up to your room.” He turned on the landing.
Preston went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He peered inside and then took out a loaf of bread and a jar of jelly. He searched the pantry standing next to the refrigerator until he found a jar of peanut butter, then began looking in drawers until he found a knife. He put everything on the table as Oliver hauled the second of two boxes up the steps.
Oliver came back down the stairs, and Preston pointed to the items on the table.
“I found all the stuff.”
Oliver wiped his brow, and said, “Fine. Help yourself.”
“But you said you’d make it for me after you finished taking all that stuff up.”
Oliver sighed, “So I did.” He opened up the bread and asked, “One or two?”
“Two is good.”
“Alrighty. Want some milk too?”
“Ok.”
Oliver made the meal and set it before the boy. As Preston bit into one of the sandwiches, he said, “So what’s there to do here? Anything?”
“Well, there’s a pile of luggage upstairs in your room that needs unloaded. You might want to start there. Put your clothes and things anywhere you like in that room, just so long as they’re neatly folded or hanging on a hanger. Just leave the empty luggage, and I’ll take care of it later.”
Preston sighed. While he ate, Oliver fed Bayo and attended to a few other domestic matters. When Oliver returned, Preston had finished the milk and one of the sandwiches.
“Do you need more milk?”
“No.”
“Don’t you want that other sandwich?”
“No.”
“I thought you wanted two.”
“Well, I changed my mind.”
Oliver picked up the sandwich and said, “Well, you might as well get started putting your clothes and things where you want them. It’s getting late. By the time you’re finished, it’ll be time to turn in.” He took a bite from the sandwich.
Preston moped his way up to his room. The room was large, larger even than his room at home. His gaze fell forlornly on the crowd of luggage and boxes neatly arranged in the center. He sighed again and let his body fall onto the bed.
Downstairs, Oliver sat in his recliner and took out his Bible. His eyes searched the ceiling and he said, “Any advice would be greatly appreciated.” Then he opened the book and began to read as he stroked Bayo who rested his head on the armrest of the couch next to Oliver.
He read for about an hour, then closed his book and spoke to it. He said, “I believe You’d like me to provide this boy with some very firm boundaries. You’ll let me know if I go too far, please. And any guidance or encouragement You might offer along the way, I’ll most readily obey and appreciate, because Father, I really have no clue whatsoever. Not even the slightest.”
He placed the Bible back in its place, turned out the lights, and plodded up the stairs with Bayo behind him. He looked into Preston’s room and saw the boy sprawled on the bed fast asleep and the luggage untouched. He smiled at the sight. He untied and removed the boy’s shoes and placed them next to the bed. With a stifled yawn, he turned out the lights and headed to his own room for the night.