Morris sighs. “Well, I am glad to hear that. It is very hard, yes, when you are like us. So fortunate for Michael to learn such good English, he can have his important job on Madison Avenue and take care of you.”
Shem comes by the table then, setting glasses of water in front of each of them, and he and Morris exchange friendly greetings. They look to be from the same generation, in their late 50s or early 60s. Morris introduces Wolfgang as his son’s ‘girl,’ and although Shem smiles at Wolfgang pleasantly, he seems unwilling to look in Michael’s direction for too long.
“You kids want anything to eat? Let me get you something,” Morris offers after ordering a roast beef sandwich for himself. Michael shakes his head, irritated, prompting a reply of, “Now you won’t even eat a meal with your father? Look at Li, too, she is so thin. Get them both the same thing. Extra meat for her.”
Shem nods and leaves to start on the food. The ice in the water glass looks so heavenly, Michael lets go of Wolfgang so he can wrap both his hands around it. He wants to press it to his face, but Morris would have something to say about that. At least it takes some of the edge off. When Morris asks, “So how long have the two of you been seeing each other?”, he’s able to sound slightly less like he’s being held at gunpoint when he says, “Since November.”
Morris sits back in his seat, staring at him in disbelief and disappointment. “November? Why didn’t you tell me this?”