The light of the full moon made it easy for Wendell to witness Ronald pull out a step ladder and climb into the dumpster. He felt shock as he watched the old man carefully lower himself. The man who he had gotten breakfast from for the entirety of his current high school career. Despite not wanting to believe the rumors that all of the food served at Ronald’s Eatery was literal trash, Wendell had no choice but to accept all of them and throw out all of the preconceptions that he had of the old man and his restaurant. 

After a few seconds of stillness, a feeling of nausea overcame Wendell. He’d been eating trash this entire time. The amount of bacteria and viruses he had been consuming was incalculable, but he tried anyway to help ease the nausea. He held back vomit that he felt rising at the top of his stomach. He stared down at the dimly lit grass, feeling his body break out into a cold sweat. His breathing and heartbeat became rapid. A panic rose. An instinct to distrust the man conflicted with all of the kindness that Ronald had shown him. All of the extra food he had given Wendell, sharing with him the ins and outs of the restaurant business he had run, the stories that he told Wendell that showed him you could be a responsible and fun adult at the same time.

He’d been feeding everyone lies with this food. The kind old man who had been cooking food for the community for the past fifty years, whether or not they had enough money. The kind old man who was not only known for his food, but for lending an ear to those who needed their voice to be heard. The kind old man who had always been around, giving whatever he could to the community. All of it was thrown into the wind as Wendell was keeled over, struggling to keep the vomit down.

Wendell had been planning to work under Ronald after high school, to get experience in the restaurant industry and hopefully open a place of his own. It was the first thing in his life that he consciously knew he wanted. His foster parents had scolded and pleaded with him to reconsider, to at least give higher education a shot so that he could become something prestigious like a lawyer or doctor. But the amount of people that Wendell knew the old man served and how well people knew Ronald solidified his decision. But now, seeing this, his determination had crumbled. His world was turned upside down. 

A bright flash of green light ripped Wendell’s attention away from the grass. It came from the dumpster. He watched as a full garbage bag flew out of the dumpster and landed with a wet splat onto the pavement. Wendell’s nausea subsided and was quickly replaced by anger. He saw the old man climb out of the dumpster, struggling to extend his foot down onto the ground. He got up and ran over, tears welling up in his eyes and trying to form the words he would shout. Wendell stood in front of the garbage bag, waiting for the old man to lower his other foot and turn around. After a few grunts and straining, the old man finally dropped down, almost stumbling onto his back. But he regained his composure, dusted off his shirt, and turned around. Wendell made eye contact with him, still unsure of the right words to express his disgust and confusion. But Ronald, shorter than Wendell, simply smiled and looked up at the boy.

“I’ve been wondering when you would come by and find out if the rumors were true,” Ronald said. He walked over to the garbage bag and began fiddling with the knot to open it.

“What the fuck are you talking about!” Wendell said. It was the only thing that he could manage to say with this added layer of surprise. Wendell watched as the old man finally managed to wiggle the knot free and opened the bag. He slid the plastic over to reveal an impossibly large amount of food wrapped in butcher paper. Ronald gently laid the mound onto its side and proceeded to walk toward the restaurant building and pull the plastic bag, revealing an impossible amount of wrapped foods as if in a video game. Wendell watched with his mouth agape. The food only stopped appearing when Ronald was at the back door. Finally, Ronald pulled the garbage bag free, shaking it vigorously as if to make sure it was empty. When he was satisfied he methodically tied the garbage bag to a belt loop and walked to Wendell.

“You can’t tell because it’s all wrapped for cold storage, but all of the food groups are here. The best part is that this amount will last the restaurant,” he looked at his watch and counted in the air, “probably a little under a year and a half with the loss of business over the rumors.” 

A new feeling of confusion came over Wendell, not necessarily replacing anger, but definitely sharing a space. He looked at Ronald, then at the long line of food, then back to the old man. His mind went back to the blog post he’d seen online that implied that Ronald was a time traveling mage of some sort. A fear came over him. Would Ronald try to silence him for finding out his secret? Wendell took a step back, debating the likelihood of his escape if he ran as fast as he could. Ronald may have had magic on his side, but Wendell was significantly younger. 

“Relax, Wendell. I wanted you to find this out. Let me explain exactly what’s going on over a double ham, egg, and cheese croissant,” Ronald said, his back already turned on the young man. Wendell was about to run away with all of the force and speed his legs could muster. But as he watched Ronald, he saw how feeble and tired the old man moved. He fumbled with the garbage bag, his fingers shaking as he undid the knot. When he finally got it free, he walked slowly to the line of food. Every movement other than walking was accompanied by a labored grunt and audible breathing. Wendell decided that there was no way that this man would harm him.

After a few minutes Ronald had stuffed everything into the garbage bag and slung it over his shoulder like he was a poor impression of Santa Claus. He struggled to find the keys to the eatery, switching the hand that held the sack on his back to pat down every pocket on his person. Wendell made a move to help him, but Ronald swatted away his hand immediately.

“Stop!” Ronald said. There was a tinge of anger in the command that made Ronald freeze and return to being alert.

“I can do it, I can do it. Just give an old man a second, Wendell.” His voice shakily returned to the fun loving enthusiasm that Wendell was used to hearing. But now Wendell was unsure if that was genuine or a cover. He thought better of questioning the old man, hoping that it was just a one time occurrence. 

Ronald finally found the keys, unlocked the door, and held the door open. Wendell made his way in and heard the door close and lock behind him, making him tense up even more. But Ronald simply walked past him and gestured at the counter stool that Wendell always sat on when waiting for his morning order. 

“Just gotta get all of this into the cold before getting started.” Ronald walked into the back. Wendell heard the walk in freezer door open, followed by the sound of water and paper towels being dispensed. When Ronald came out, he was shaking the wetness off his hands and holding a wet spatula and tongs. He smiled at Wendell as he shambled around the small exposed cooking space, grabbing a croissant from the display and large mound of sliced ham and cheeses from hidden refrigerated compartments under the counter.

The silence between the two was familiar to Wendell, as if he’d simply arrived right after Ronald was opening the doors. He watched Ronald with enthusiasm as the old man assembled the sandwich, layer by layer, as he had done for the past three years. When the sandwich was ready to be grilled, Wendell watched as Ronald cut a square of butter onto the griddle before crouching down to turn on the propane line. The heat from the griddle grew until Ronald felt it on his hands. When the butter was browned, Ronald gently placed the sandwich on top. 

If not for the context of the restaurant, with its tables and seats and large counters and displays and advertisements, a bystander might think the two were a grandfather cooking a meal for his grandson rather than employee for a customer.

“Let me explain what I know first, so that maybe a few of your questions are answered. So, the green glow, the food you saw, even that bag that held all of that food, it’s all from a realm that’s separate from ours. Things are different there than from here. I honestly don’t quite understand it, but I do know that our perceptions are different there. The food they have over there, it tastes almost completely different. But when it’s brought here into our realm, the taste of whatever is brought over is amplified. And it’s not just our sense of taste, but sight and sound, they’re different there. And our understanding of time and space morphs as well. I’ve been trying to measure time there in relation to time here, but the closest I can get is that years there are mere seconds here. Things move at such a slow rate, but I’ve been able to live entire lives there and return here in the time it takes exchange pleasantries with a customer. And I’ve found that my time here has been decelerated overall. My body ages slower! It’s as if there is spillover on me from the other realm!” A smile and twinkle in his eyes overcame Ronald as he piled the meat and cheese onto the croissant.

“But regardless of how fast or slow it does it, time moves, Wendell. My body is struggling to do things I’ve been doing all my life. It’s taking longer for me to remember things that have been routine, my hands shake throughout the day, my bones ache when I get home, just signs of physically breaking down.” The twinkle disappeared from his eyes and he gently placed the assembled sandwich onto the griddle.

“There’s where you come in, though. You and your parents have been coming here for quite some time. I trust you all. And I know that you have a penchant for food, dare I say even this place,” Ronald looked at Wendell. There was a determination in his eyes when he said this. He was right - Wendell looked up to Ronald for his kindness. He wished to emulate that in his adult life through the same means: serving delicious food and being involved in community.

Still, Wendell didn’t have the proper words to say. So, they sat in silence again with only the sizzle of the grill filling the soundscape. The thing on Wendell’s mind, though, was if he could still trust Ronald. If he’d been lying this long, then there had to be more to what he was saying. Not only, that, but more secrets overall.

“What else have you been hiding from everyone in town?” Wendell asked quietly. Ronald tapped the sandwich slightly to the side without saying anything back. The silence returned for a bit.

“It’s not just time that’s withering me away. The beings that showed me this portal have decided to cancel the contract we once had. This year, I turned 158 years old. I’m lucky that the beings decided not to have time just collapse on me. Or maybe that they can’t necessarily control all of the parameters in our agreement.” He spoke without looking up from the sandwich, as if pretending that he was giving it loving attention. Perhaps he was, but something in Wendell’s gut told him that there was more to his gestures now.

“There’s something else that you’re not saying. I know it.” Wendell said, not breaking his eye contact on the man.

“I’ve been alive for 158 years, Wendell. I have many secrets. But it seems like you want to hear one in particular. Please, for the sake of time, let me know what you may suspect of me.” Wendell felt a lump in his throat, but he pushed the words out.

“I thought you might be my grandpa, but now I have to ask, are you a part of my family?”

Ronald, lifting only his eyes, looked up at the boy. He could tell there was a hint of urgency and pain in his question. But Ronald shook his head.

Wendell hung his head over the counter. He’d always had a secret hope he held that he was - after all, how could he not be with how close he was with him? But perhaps now, with a verbal confirmation from the old man himself, it had all just been part of the excellent customer service that Ronald had been known for throughout the entire town. 

“But, you remind me of someone who I once knew fondly, back when I opened this eatery. He was a much better person than I am, I think.” 

Wendell perked up.

“Who was he?”

Ronald tipped up the top croissant and examined the cheese, then tapped the griddle several times. He smiled and nodded his head.

“How about this: I tell you one of my famous stories and you keep what happened tonight to yourself and you come in to work with me next month? I’ll work out it all out with Glenn, Patricia, even get the legal parts out of the way. Sounds like a win-win, right?” Ronald said as he plated the sandwich and placed it onto the counter in front of Wendell.

The offer did seem appealing to Wendell. The chance to work in the industry he’d decided was for his future and the chance to learn more about the family that he’d never known? Just handed to him without any obstacles in his way? There was no incentive for him to turn the offer down. But knowing that Ronald hadn’t been completely honest about where his food had come from, regardless if it was from a dumpster or from a different realm completely, brought doubt to Wendell.

Despite this, Wendell slid the plate toward him and looked down at the sandwich. The sight and smell that wafted up to him made his mouth water. He desperately wanted to take a bite, especially after all of the information he’d taken this night. But he stopped himself. Taking a bite would mean he completely accepted Ronald’s explanations. But Wendell knew that something wasn’t right. And something craved more than now was to know the truth, to allow it to guide every part of him. He again thought of the words to say, finally feeling some control and familiarity.

“You’ve gotta tell me everything, Ronald,” Wendell said. Ronald nodded his head and turned off the griddle. He brushed crumbs from the croissant and burnt cheese bits that melted off the sandwich into the grease trap. He walked out from behind the counter, took a cup from beside the vending machine, and dispensed a full cup of ice. Then, he walked back and dumped the ice onto the griddle. Steam rose and the sound of sizzling filled the small eatery. The sizzling sound was joined by the brushing of steel wool against iron as Ronald cleaned the griddle. Wendell watched, leaving his hands in his lap to ensure he didn’t eat the delicious sandwich seated in front of him. When Ronald was finished cleaning, he turned around and ran the brush under hot water. 

“I’ll tell you all that I can, Wendell,” he said as the water ran. Wendell couldn’t articulate why he trusted the old man when he said this. So, he lifted the sandwich and took a bite.

“Then I guess I’m in,” Wendell said between his chewing.