Dada: Chapter Ten

    I have been dreading this for the last two hours, ever since I got the message at lunch.  We've made another pit stop at a convenience store, twenty-five miles outside of Philadelphia.  Sam was hungry, always hungry, and I wanted to top of the tank before we got into Jersey.  They have some strange laws there about fill-ups.  At least he's still getting relatively healthy snacks, even if he's mixing whole-grain chips with fruit leather seems stupid, and disgusting.
     "I need to tell you something," I say as we get back on the highway.
    We hadn't been speaking much.  Just a random comment, here or there, about something we see or a song on the radio.  I must have gone through the entire free trial selection, before we settled on Hits 1 again.  Sam is still too shaken up to talk, and with his cracking, a lot safer too.
     "What is it?"
     "I got a message from the worker in New York.  He, maybe she, can't tell from the name, though we would be there this morning.  He left at noon, or so.  Wanted to spend the long holiday weekend off work, I guess.  We won't be able to get into the house today.  There will be someone there, but not until tomorrow morning."
     "No.  No."  Sam sputtered.  Not really a shout, more of a groan.  Low and slightly painful.
    "Look.  I have already set up a reservation at a hotel for tonight.  We should get there in plenty of tome to have dinner before we have to check in.  We'll leave early enough to eat, and make it to your home way before tomorrow night.  It'll be alright."
     "We should have flown.  Your head wouldn't have exploded or nothin'.  Nothing. "  Sam turns his head to face out the window. I can almost imagine he's trying not to cry.
    "There is nothing to be done.  Even if we had wanted to fly, we would have had problems.  I checked last night.  There were no direct flights to New York until this morning.  We would have had to go to Phily and take a connector, and we still would have had to find a place to stay the night.  Or we could have found a way to Louisville or Cincy, but the flights were early and we wouldn't have been able to get you some new clothes.  Again, we would have had to rent a room.  After midnight, somehow.  This way, I thought we would have made it back in time to make an appointment.  How would I have known that we would be held up for an hour by an accident, or that the social worker would take off early.
     "I thought we would make it in by nightfall, or at least close.  The worker should have stayed longer to help us out.  I'm sorry.  And yes, I would have had my medical problem, regardless."
    "I know," Sam whispered, barely audible against the glass.  "I just want to get home."
    "We'll make.  We just have to survive the night in Jersey."
     I'm sure I hear Sam laugh at my joke.
     I don't tell Sam that I still haven't heard back from Rick.  I know something might be wrong.  He would have at least got me a number for a local attorney.  Why do I feel that something is wrong?   I hope Sam doesn't notice.
    The next two hours are just as boing as we get to the hotel.  I had placed the reservation hours ago, back at the BK, soon after I got the message.  We stop for dinner at a place that looked like it had great reviews for its Stromboli sandwiches.  Sam loved it.  After only one day, I think I am beginning to know my brother.

Dada: Chapter 9b

    I let Sam sleep off his latest meal, driving down the highway through West Virginia.  I least I think I am still in West Virginia.  I have never travelled anywhere near here, so I might be near Virginia by now, or perhaps getting ready to enter Maryland.  I've got the route all laid out, and I checked everything out at the last stop, but something is still nagging me.  I am so out of my league here.  Haven't driven this far in months.  Actually, I don't think I have driven this far since college, if then.  Too much of a stay-at-home type of guy.  Never thought of myself like that before.  I always liked to go places, but what changed.  When did I change?  When did I stop wanting to go to new places and try new things.
      I switch radio stations every few minutes.  Nothing seems to be catching my attention.  I just keep going back to Hits 1.  Just like me to have a satellite radio free trial, and I keep going back to Top 40. Don't get me wrong, I like other types of music.  Not country, of course.  But I remember listening to more rock and rap when I was younger.  At least compared to now.  I try not to sing along too loudly. Sam is a growing boy and needs his sleep.  If he's going to be seven feet tall, he will need it.
     Why couldn't I have gotten the height genes like his has?  He's going to be at least six feet, I can tell.  He's just growing fast not too.  He might be even taller than me when we get out of the car.  I just bet...
     "Where are we?" Sam asks sleepily, his voice still cracking a little.
    "Still in West Virginia.  We should be in Maryland soon, and then we will stop for lunch."
     "Well, that sign says we are entering Virginia, not Maryland.  Are you sure you know what you're doing?"  Sam replies.
      He was right.  "Virginia is for lovers."  I thought they had given up that slogan years ago.
     "It won't be for long.  Both West Virginia and Maryland are narrow.  We will be in Maryland shortly.  How was your nap?"
     "I wasn't sleeping that much," Sam answers.
     "Yes, you were.  You nodded off soon after you finished your snack."
     "Not all the time.  I mostly just had my eyes closed.  Nice Cardi B singing you had there."
     He had been awake.  It least he didn't mention Rhianna.
     "I had Spanish as my foreign language requirement in high school and college.  Don't remember that much since, so don't ask me for a full translation."
      "When do we eat?  You said we would stop for lunch around one.  It's almost one-thirty.  I'm starving,"  Sam all but whines.
     The bottomless stomach of a teenage boy.  I swear, I never ate anywhere near as much as he does when I was his age, but then, I was a late bloomer.
     "We'll eat at the next stop.  I swear."
    Fifteen minutes later, we stop at a Burger King, just across the state line in Maryland.
    "Told you we would be here soon," I say to Sam as we get out of the car.
    "Can't we eat somewhere else.  I don't really like burgers that much.  We usually eat a little healthier..." Sam trails off without finishing, before he can say more.  Probably was going to mention them.  That's why he's staying quiet.
    "You can handle it.  We'll get you something. "
    "The line is somewhat short, considering the time.
   "Hello!  Welcome to Burger King.  Can I take your order?"  the cashier behind the counter asks.
    "Yes.  We'll have a Whooper and a Whooper junior.  Small drinks.  Small onion rings.  No, wait.  Sam, would you like fires or would you want to split the rings?"
    "I'll just have the burger.  I don't really like fries or onion rings. "  At this, Sam takes a quick look at the menu.  "But I would like some cheesesticks.  Oh, no pickles or cheese."
   "Actually, that goes for me as well.  Don't forget the rings."
    I pay the girl, okay young woman, and wait for the order.   There's only one other ahead of us.
  "How are you two gentleman this afternoon?   Would you like anything else with that?"  the next lady, older, slightly greying hair, asks.
   "No thanks.  Ketchup is all I need," I reply while grabbing a handful of packets from the tub beside the tray.  "Sam, do you need anything else?"  The sticks came with a marinara dipping sauce, but he might need more.
   "I'm good, " was his quick retort.
    "I hope you and your son have a good day then." she said as I pick up the tray.
   "He's my, uh, brother.  Road trip."
    I stutter and stumble away to a clean table.  How awkward I this going to be?
    "Do you need to wash your hands first, because I think I'll be fine, for now."
    "I think I'm good."
    We sit there, silently eating.  I pile a few rings onto my burger, drizzling them with ketchup.  I should have got some mayo as well, but I do need to watch my diet.  Probably should have gotten grilled chicken.  I look up and see that Sam had placed a cheesestick on his burger, with some sauce as well.
   "I have never seen anyone do that," I say after I take a sip of water.  Again, I got the healthier option.
     "It's about the only way I like burgers.  It's like its almost a pizza this way."  Sam replies between bites.
     "There's a sandwich called a Stromboli that's almost like that.  I should show you one.  You might like it."
     Nothing else is said for the rest of the meal.  Neither of us got much ice, so we didn't need to take the cups with us.
    "I need to go to the bathroom."
    "Okay, Sam.  Go ahead.  I'll use it after you get back." I think it would be prudent that I try not to see him for as long as possible, if ever.
    While he's gone, I try and take a quick look at my phone for messages.  Rick hasn't responded.  Figured that would be the case.  I have two others.  Don't want Sam to know about these two just yet. I don't want to alarm too much.
     It is a little past two when we get back to the car.  Sam won't like what I will have to tell him.

Dada: Chapter 9a

  After we get back to the car, I hand Sam a bottle of water from the back seat and some napkins.
  "I want you to be careful and not get anything on the car.  That includes dirty fingers.  The water should still be cold.  It was in the freezer for an hour or so before we left."
    He reluctantly took the water and napkins.
   "I'll try to be careful," he whines back.
   Sam opened the chips first, but didn't touch them.  He then unwraps the chocolate bar and takes a small bite.  Immediately after, he pops a chip in his mouth.
    "What are you doing to those poor chips?"
    Sam finishes swallowing before his answers.  I always eat these together.  I like the way the taste.  Don't know why. "
    He waits a few seconds before adding.  "Guess that's the way I was taught."
    We don't talk for the next few miles as he finishes his snack and water.
   It must of been his dad, our dad, who showed him how to eat those things together.  Or his mother.  Maybe someone else.  He must of eaten them with one of them all the time.  It just brought up bad memories.  I never got to have any such memories with my mother.  I can't remember a time that I felt good just eating a snack like that with her.  At least nothing special.  Anyway, how can anyone eat those things together?  Salty chips and chocolate?  My throat clenches up at the thought.
    Sure, I like sweet and savory together, sometimes, with an emphasis on the savory.  A little sweetness in a sauce for meat is bliss.  A practically collected sweet-and-sour sauce packets growing up.  Used to put it on chicken, and even burgers, all the time.  I still have a bottle of it in the fridge.  I even mix a little in tartar sauce and put it with fish.  The fish needs to be fried just the right way though, or the balance isn't right.  But salt with sugar, multi-grain chips and chocolate?  NO way.
    "I've got a plastic bag in the back to put the wrappers in."
     I didn't notice that Sam fell asleep again.  The wrappers are on his lap; the water bottle is in the cup holder, half empty.  The napkins are nowhere to be seen.  At least I don't think he got any crumbs on the car seat.
    For the next half hour, I let Sam sleep.  Growing boy and all of that.  Of course, he will be over six feet tall by the time I wake him up.  How is it this kid got the height genes?  From what I say of his dad.  Sorry, out dad., he looked like he was at least six feet himself.  I will never be able to keep with the kid.  Can't think about it now.  Wait until I find out what the situation is in New York.
    As I let Sam sleep, I just listen to satellite radio.  For some reason, I still prefer FM, but with the new territory and all, I can't afford the time searching for something I like.  At least I've got the free trial for another week or so.  Sure, I can afford having it full time, but why?  This is the first time I have driven this far from home, ever.  I barely know where I'm going.  I think I'm almost at the Maryland state line, by the way.  I like my local radio stations just fine.  I know where to find what I like, so why look for something that I might not like.   Why try something new?
   Why not take care of Sam?

Dada: Chapter Nine

     "When do we stop?  I have to pee."  Sam cracked.
     "We will stop at the next exit.  I want to put some distance between us and the wreck." I reply.
     "I'm hungry, too."
     I wanted to get to the state line before we stopped, but I knew this was not going to wait.  We drive on for another mile and a half before we come to the next exit with a convenience mart.  The car could use some gas, as well, just in case.  At least this place looked clean, and I had heard of it, even if I never stopped here before.
    "Go on to the restroom, while I fill up the tank.  I'll meet you in there in a few minutes."  I send Sam inside while a stand at the tanks.
      Should I have sent him in alone?  He's fourteen, so its not like he can't take care of himself.  I doubt he we rum off somewhere in the middle of West Virginia for no reason.  I can see the entrance from here.  I can just see the authorities now.  Yes, I did let him go to the restroom by himself.  No, I honestly didn't think he would be abducted, run away, get horribly mutilated in a automatic flushing accident, whatever.  He won't run off.  Why should he?  He has nowhere to go, except with this complete stranger who could be his brother that he never knew he had and might not ever take care of him now that his parents have died.
    I barely notice that the tank is full.  I replace the handle and pull the car away, closer to the entrance.  I see Sam looking over the overpriced candy and cakes.
    "Don't think about it.  We have stuff in the car.  I'll be out in a minute." I say to him as I walk to the restroom.
     It would have been too awkward if we had both been here at the same time.  Lord knows some of my problems over the years.  Freshman orientation was the weirdest, but its where I met Jim.  I wash my hands before getting into the stall.  At least I'm the only one it here.
      I walk out a minute later.  Sam is still looking over the food.
     "We've got food in the car, and it's cheaper and healthier.  Besides, it will spoil lunch."
     "When's lunch.  It's after eleven already." Sam whined, his voice raising almost another octave.
     "One.  I want to hit the state line before we stop again.  We're already a hour or so late because of the wreck.  I don't want to miss getting there in time.  But here,"  I hand hime five dollars.  "Get one thing.  No pop.  We have water bottles in the car.  Nothing too messy either.  I don't want crumbs."
     I send him off.  He's practically drooling.  I don't remember ever getting that hungry when I was his age.  I don't think I was, anyway.  Please don't get anything that will mess up the car.  Sure, I could get it detailed, but it will never be the same.
     I need a new car.  This one's five years old, and it has had problems since I bought it.  Six years.  I can't remember.  What's taking Sam so long?  I don't want to hover.  I was buying things at his age.  Maybe he hasn't bought on his own before.  With five dollars, he could potentially buy a few things.  He's always hungry.  He might try to buy a lot.
    "Okay.  Let's go." Sam startles me while I'm lost in my thoughts.  He bought a small bag of multi-grain chips and a chocolate bar.  Not too bad.
     "You can keep the change.  Now let's go before it gets any later."