We continued like that for a while, just lunching together. I would have a PBJ or a mystery meat sandwich, he would bring something from one of the fast food joints nearby, and always a piece of fruit. Our conversations were minimal, eating being our main priority. I found the whole thing strange, and I still had no idea why Ishmael willingly sought out my company. For his part, he seemed to have no problems with me. Perhaps if I actually had friends, our lunches would make more sense to me.
One day after we had finished our lunch, he turned to look at me. Usually we sat facing forward with our meals between us on the bench. His eyes had a curious light in them, and I could tell he wanted to ask me something but wasn’t sure how to go about it.
Finally, he asked, “Terry, how much do you w
