Dada: Chapter Nineteen

   We don't talk while we eat.  Partially because Sam is all but inhaling his Big Mac and fries.  I don't see how he does it.  I never ate that much at his age.  I make do with a few chicken nuggets, although I do manage to sneak a few of his fries when he was busy eating the burger.
   We don't talk on the drive back to the house either.  I don't know what I should say.  I'm pretty sure Sam had "the talk" before, so I don't have to go into those details, but what else should I say.  At least he didn't see what I saw at the end. Maybe he hasn't gotten the talk yet?  I mean, my mom never really gave me those details when I was his age, but Sam's parents looked like they were better than my mom.  I learned all that stuff from my friend's dad, before they went away.  Everything else, I caught in high school, here and there, on my own.  They probably teach it in middle school here.
    Furthermore, Sam is not the talkative type.  I doubt he said much even before his voice started going haywire with puberty.  I haven't asked him anything about his life, nothing important.  I want him to open up to me, not force him into a conversation he doesn't want to have, bringing up bad memories, forever tied to his parents' death.  If he needs to talk, I'm here.  But this silence is driving me crazy.  I don't have the radio on.  It just doesn't feel right after the night we had.  We shouldn't have gone.
    We make it back just after nine-thirty.  Still fairly bright, the distant glow from the Manhattan skyline the only hint that we are just minutes from New York.  The light keeps this street from getting too dark, even now.  I park silently by the door.  Why park further away?  Sam gets out first and heads to the door, while I lock everything up as I follow.
    "Think the car will be safe here?"
    "Sure, I guess.  That's where..." Sam hesitates.  "Yeah, that will be good.  I just want to go to bed."
    "After all you ate tonight, I wouldn't be surprised."  I add a trace of a laugh as I unlock the door and shut down the alarm.  Luckily, I get it right on the first try.  Don't want to try and explain myself to a whole bunch of strangers.
    Sam quickly finds the light switch, illuminating the large entry hall.  I didn't notice how big the chandelier was before.  I guess it was because it wasn't on.  Dozens of tiny bulbs flickered on, shining into both rooms to the sides, as well into the upper stairwell.
    "There's a second switch upstairs, by the second landing.  It will turn the lights," Sam's speech got interrupted by a huge yawn.  He stretched his arms wide above his head, his shirt tail pulling out from his waistband.  My shirt, almost too small for him.
       "Off," he finished his sentence.  A second, smaller yawn following.
       "You go on up.  I have some things I need to down here.  You can turn off the lights when you get up there.  I'll try not to take too long."
     "Fine,"  Sam trudged up the stairs.
    "Wait." I call out to him.
    "What." He turns around to look at me from the first landing.
     "Just keep the shirt in your room for tonight.  I can get it back tomorrow.  Just don't leave it on the floor, alright?"
     "Okay," he mumbles as he slowly went up the stairs.
      Not only wasn't I that tired yet, but I also needed some answers.  I start for the office, but I quickly change my mind.  After the movie, I don't think I'm ready to go in there.
     I walk through the living room to the family room and its big screen television.  I flick it on.  Disney.  Another reminder that Sam is still just a kid.  One who is almost seven feet tall.  Okay, almost taller than me, but he's still going to be seven feet one day.  Just my luck that I got dad's hair and eyes, and not the height gene.  At least I guess I got something else from him, judging by that last scene of the movie, but I don't want to go there, just yet.
     I flip to news, or sports.  Anything else, really, to get my mind off of what I saw.  I need to get my mind ready for what I have to do.
    I don't think I can find my answers here.  At least not yet.  That leaves me with one choice.  Not yet ten, so she still should be awake.  I just hope she's at hone.  Some Saturdays, she goes out for one reason or another, mostly involving trying to pickup a man.  Sad to think of her this way, but it is pretty close to the truth.   She would have mentioned if she was going out of town, but maybe not.
Regardless, I call my mother for the second time in three days.  It's the most I've called her in years.