Niel Allen 8

"What's in the bag, child?" Mr Allen asked again, my mind afar off. "Oh, just some books and some knitting stuff," I finally responded. "Yes, your mom told me that you are quite the scholar and book worm." "Yeah, I suppose you could say that." It was somewhat relieving hearing that my mother talked about me. "Your mom also said that you weren't too happy about not going back to school just to stay with an stupid old man. I understand. I wouldn't want to stay with me either," Mr Allen laughed. I wasn't quite sure how I should respond to his saying that. I quite embarrassed me that Mr Allen knew I didn't want to be there. I wonder what else he knew. "By golly, that roast beef is sure taking a long time," Mr Allen broke the ice. "Yeah," I responded, half-heartedly, still feeling quite guilty for the events that had transpired over the past few weeks at my house. "You seem a little down, child. Is everything going okay? Or are you just a little hungry? I bet that's it," Mr Allen's words were comforting. "Yeah, I'm just hungry." "Lemme quick check the meat again to see if it's done yet," Mr Allen said, his stomach growling after he was through talking. "Did you hear that one? Wow! I am a hungry fellow." A few moments passed, Mr Allen prepared some plates and placed the bread onto them. "Did you want anything on your sandwich besides just the roast beef?" Mr Allen inquired. "Nope. Just plain roast beef is absolutely fine." "Good. That's the way I like it too. Does your mom make roast beef a lot at your house?" "Yeah. We have it quite a bit. I love it; the way she makes it so good!" I said, getting excited. "Oh yes. Your mom makes roast beef sandwiches the same way that Ginny and I do: just plain good," Mr Allen said as he pulled the roast beef out of the pan and placed it onto the bread. "Did my mom learn how to cook them from you and Ginny?" I wondered. "Why, yes, she did. She's been cooking them since she was about your age. She's had a lot of practice in the realm of roast beef sandwich making. She's practically a veteran!" I pondered Mr Allen's last statement for quite a while. If my mom had learned how to make roast beef sandwiches from Niel and Ginny, and had been making them since she was my age, then she has known the Allens for quite a long while. "What are you thinking, child?" Mr Allen asked, clearly noticing the look of consternation on my face. "So...my mom has known you for a long time, hasn't she?" I finally spouted out. "We have known each other for quite a while, yes. Hear, Jocelyn, eat up," he finished, cutting himself short. I took the first bite after Mr Allen said Grace. It tasted exactly like my mother's roast beef sandwiches. It reminded me of home. It reminded me of my grieving mother. This saddened me. "This reminds me of home," I told Mr Allen. "Yeah, I'll bet it does. Your home has such warm feelings of love." Mr Allen took another bite and sighed. "Mmmmm. I haven't had this good of a sandwich in a long while," Mr Allen said, his gaze returning to that of Neverland, probably reminiscing about his times with Ginny. I sat, finishing my sandwich, observing Niel Allen's every move. He soon stood to his feet slowly and cleared off the table, returning back to his hard chair in the living room. I was going to ask Mr Allen how he met my mother, but he seemed preoccupied with his thoughts. "Maybe later," I thought, pulling a book from my bag, remaining seated at the small, un-sturdy dining room table. Mr Allen had fallen asleep.