I rush along the hallway towards the main entrance, Sam barely keeping up. I try not to run into anyone. Definitely try not to talk to anyone. Fortunately, no one is trying to come near me. At least not again. I just want to leave this place, forget about it and what I saw. How could they do this to me?
"Slow down. I'm not that hungry." Sam pants as I reach the door and dash outside.
It's a little darker than I expected for a little after eight. I guess it's because we are farther north and east. My jacket feels comfortable again against the slight chill of the evening. New York late spring. Might be typical. I already have my keys ready by the time I get to the car. No one is lurking about, either to talk or to attack me. Not sure which would be better.
I'm already in the car and buckled up by the time Sam gets in. I wait until his fastens his seat belt before starting it up. The lot is silent, save for us. I guess most everyone is staying for another movie, although I'm not sure most of the men are "up" for a second round. Unless they have help. They will need it, considering how old some of them looked. I push the thought out of mind as I pull out of the lot.
"Are you sure you need to ear now? Could you wait until we get back to the house? It would be faster, although it will be later," I ask Sam once we are on the street.
"I don't think I heard you. Faster and later?" Sam mumbled back.
"I meant easier. More direct, as opposed to waiting for an order to be filled. Besides, you won't be eating in the car. I don't want any more crumbs in here, especially since it will be too dark to find them."
"Fine. I guess I will wait. I don't see why we had to leave so fast. What happened back there? If it that spot on your pants, it's gonna dry in another minute. I mean, most guys dribble. I hear it happens to older guy especially."
I roll my eyes towards him. He had noticed, but he had thought it happened after I entered the rest room.
"I'm only twenty-seven. I'm not that old. And we left for reasons other than my pants. Those people, that movie. We just have to leave."
"I was bored anyway. The woman looking after us was way older, like thirty-something. She didn't even bother to check on me." Sam abruptly stopped before he could compete his thought.
"Did you leave the wait room, more than once?' I ask.
Sam doesn't respond.
I think back to the disaster of the movie screening. The doors opened out into the hall. The man by the door was paying more attention to the movie and himself than making sure no one could get in. Someone could have peeked in and watched while he was "pre-occupied" with his own needs. And the mens' rest room was near.
"You went and watched the movie." A statement, not a question. "While the guard wasn't looking, you snuck in. At least you were watching from the hall. How much did you see? I need to know, now." Please let it be barely anything.
He waits a few more seconds before answering.
"I saw the men, all of them sporting ... you know. Even dad." Sam stuttered.
"Anything else. What about the other people in the room? Did you see anything happening with them."
"I didn't really look at the audience. The man by the door seemed to be doing something, but his back was towards me, so I couldn't really tell what he was doing. He tried to turn, so I closed the door and went to the rest room."
"What was happening when you left?" I prodded him. I hope I'm right with this.
"Dad was finishing his speech, and he was so, well, you know. I don't see how he could keep that going for so long. I think a party was starting. I saw the doctor with all these other women, but the guy at the door looked like he heard me. I quickly shut the door and left." He finished and stayed quiet.
"A little bit more happened with the movie after that. Things that teenagers don't need to see. The audience, too. They were doing things, stuff like the guard. Some of the things could have gotten them in trouble, if they knew you were there."
"Did I do anything wrong? I mean, I know what was going on with dad and the other men in that film. I been taught about those things. What were they doing? Just filming themselves like that. It doesn't make sense. " Sam mumbles out, again.
"Your dad, our dad, was encouraged to make a film that went beyond what he usually worked with. He apparently made quite a few more in the same vein, and many people like them. While awkward, I guess it is art, of a sort. What the audience was doing, that was going too far. There shouldn't have been any minors anywhere near that hall tonight, with all what was happening. I'm sorry. You should never have been there tonight. If I had only known, I wouldn't have brought you. I probably shouldn't have been there either."
I feel I should add something about seeing my father, our father, naked, but that would be pushing things. It looks like Sam is having a hard time as it is.
I see a McDonalds ahead on the left. "If you really want to eat, we can pull in here," I say to him. "It's not my first choice, but it'll be fast and easy."
Sam mumbles an indistinct "Yeah, okay," just before it would have been too late to turn in. I hang the left into the parking lot so Sam can eat.
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