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.