Three Meals a Day, Just Potatoes

I had just typed “Grandpa, the man you introduced me to—” when Jason leaned over, snatched my phone, and sneered at my contact list.

"Is that Robert Lane’s profile picture? You claim to know Robert Lane? Stop pretending — you think name-dropping will get my family to raise your engagement gifts?"

I clenched my jaw and said as calmly as I could:

"Didn’t Aunt May tell you about me? Not even my last name?"

Jason crossed one leg over the other, looking smug.

"She said you were from Portland. Who cares enough to ask more? Me? I’m a real Seattle native — do you know how valuable a Seattle household registration is? People would kill for it!"

He then launched into bragging about his family’s glorious history, their tiny house that he claimed was worth a fortune, and how many machines his mom’s factory had — which, to me, sounded pathetically small.

Just then, the flight attendant brought us two airplane meals.

Jason’s eyes went wide.

"There’s food? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?"

"Are you mute? You made me eat all those potatoes downstairs! When you marry into the King family, you’d better learn to speak up!"

I’d had enough.

"Jason, we’re not — and never will be — in the kind of relationship you’re imagining."

He ignored me, looked me up and down like an emperor picking a concubine, then took out his phone and sent a voice message to his mom.

"Mom, I met her! Not bad — a bit mouthy, but pretty. Passes the first test!"

After sending it, he suddenly turned pale, ran to the restroom to throw up, then returned satisfied.

"Waiter! Are there more meals? I wasn’t full earlier — bring me ten more!"

I wondered if he was addicted to getting free stuff.

He didn’t finish all ten and even stuffed two quail eggs up his sleeve for later.

"Listen — since we’re traveling together, we follow King family rules. If you get hungry, only eat the potatoes I packed in the outer pocket of my bag. Don’t buy outside food — waste of money."

He patted the potato-stuffed backpack proudly.

I stared at him, searching for a trace of humor, but found none.

King family rules?

Were they about conquering the world with potatoes?

Grandpa’s text came just then:

"Sweetheart, you can’t judge someone’s character after such a short time. Give him another chance."

I gripped my phone tightly and followed Jason off the plane.

"I booked us a place to stay — picked it carefully!"

His “careful choice” turned out to be walking us past a row of luxury five-star resorts.