short and sweet

Around five on Friday I get a call.

"Hi; my bus doesn't leave NY until 7:45. Want to grab dinner?"

I'm working; my son is off to the Hamptons. He is on a bus from Philly to the city, and then will be taking another bus from the city to the Hamptons.

"Let me re-word that for you," I say.   "Hi. I have an hour or so to kill between busses, and I'm starving. Want to take me out for dinner?"

It doesn't matter the reason, I'm happy to see my son.

Alexander meets me at Saks, and from there we head over to Shake Shack (me for the first time).

Our dinner is short and satisfying. But too soon the Hampton Jitney is arriving, and we say our good-byes.

On Monday, late afternoon, my son is back in NY.

He comes in around four, pizza box in hand, and announces, "I'm sorry but I really can't spend much time with you.  Maybe tomorrow. But today I need to pick my fantasy football team, then run some errands, then go to the Park, then see Sam and Ethan. I can't have dinner with you. I'm sorry." This all before I've even said hello.

"And it's so nice to see you too," I want to say or do say; I can't remember.

Within a half hour of arriving home, Alexander dumps his stuff and is gone. 

I see him again briefly around nine, when he comes home to shower and shave. And then he's off again.

Tuesday, today, starts late. Poor boy needs his sleep. As soon as Alexander gets up, he tells me he's already late. For what, I don't know.

He leaves home to pick up pizza. Again. "It's fast and I like it." 

Afterwards he very reluctantly agrees to some photos.

And even though this one isn't very good, I know I've already pushed my luck and won't be getting another one. On his next trip home. Maybe.