Sam wanted to go to a pizza place just a block or so away from the hall. Don't get me wrong, I like pizza, but I really didn't feel like having it tonight. Still, he knows the place, and he was going to be facing something that could be weird for him, so I let him choose.
Fortunately, the place seems to have a good Stromboli, even if they got a little miffed when I asked for no peppers. Seriously, hot peppers do not go on this type of sandwich. Beef, mozzarella, sauce, lettuce, tomato, mushrooms, onions, maybe a touch of mayo or Italian dressing, that's it. No peppers are necessary. Sam, however, gets a small, single size pie for himself. It's going to be too much for him. Especially since we got a few garlic rolls with dipping sauce as well. Yes, he's a teenage boy going through a growth spurt, but this is too much.
We eat in silence, mostly because Sam keeps shoving food in his face. Maybe he doesn't want to talk. At least he isn't eating fast enough to get choked. He sips some pop every few bites. He had ordered a cheese, mushroom, and hamburger pizza. An unusual combo, but I've had it myself a few times, mostly with the guys back in college. For some strange reason, none of us liked pepperoni or sausage. Just another thing that we had in common.
"Here, let me have a bite of a slice. We'll take the last few back with us."
I hadn't been paying close enough attention. Sam was a few bites into the last slice. At least my sandwich was done, and I had one last roll to tide me over.
"What happened to the rolls?"
"I was hungry," Sam manages to get out before tackling the crust. I almost expected him to belch after all that food. He's going to be two inches taller than me by the time we get to the hall.
"Finish up. You might want to head to the restroom, too. I'm not sure what to expect at the event, and you might not get another chance to clean up, or anything else."
I'm sure I heard Sam muffle a laugh, under the pretense of chewing.
I pay for the meal while Sam is away. I resist the temptation to ask any of the staff about his parents. That would be prying. Besides, no one had mentioned Sam when we came in. The place was starting to fill up, being almost seven. I walk to the head myself to catch up with Sam. I can probably wait an hour or two, but my nerves are acting up. Bladders can be so fickle.
Sam is waiting for me by the door after I finish. I didn't even see him leave.
"Come on. You can help me figure out where to park. There is a place near the hall. I don't think I should leave the car here at the restaurant."
"There's a lot a street down. I think it's free on the weekends, but you might have to pay something." Sam responds.
"We better get going then."
We walk back to the car. I feel like I should say something, anything, but the silence is just to great to break. We don't talk the short drive to the lot, either. He must be dreading this, attending an event to honor his, our, father. At least he was right about the parking. The lot is over halfway full by the time we get there with more cars coming fast behind. I hope I get to talk to someone about this before it starts. I want to make sure no one mentions the accident to Sam. I'm not sure how he will take it.
"We're here. Time to go in." I look at Sam, and I have no idea what he is thinking.
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