It was a prime opportunity to reminisce.
The boys had been home for about a year and Skip had already been missing them. Naturally, his mother noticed something wrong, so she said, innocently, to invite his buddies over. That's how Penkala and Malarkey ended up on his mother's couch. They were going to have a fun little dinner, go for a few drinks, tell some stories, and maybe even fool around a bit. God, it was gonna be one helluva night.
"Warren? Food's done!"
"That smells real good, Skip. By Luz, I want her as my mother-in-law."
"I wonder what mom decided to-"
Skip was stopped in his tracks at what was laid out for their dinner. There, looking delicious as ever, piping hot, were plates of spaghetti.
"I thought you boys outta fill up a bit, so you don't go throwin' up all 'round Tonawanda," she said, completely oblivious, or maybe not, to the face Penkala was making. He had tried his hardest to look somewhat excited for the meal, but he just couldn't hide the rumbling feeling in his gut all too well. Being a cook, he could tell that a lot of hard work was put into the sauce alone. She must've made it from scratch. Oh man... He didn't want to insult his friend's mother. Neither did Don. So, with much feigned enthusiasm, maybe too much, they all sat down at the table.
"Thanks, ma." It's been a long time. Maybe since it ain't army slop, it'll be okay. Skip hoped and prayed that it would be.
"Skip, I love your mom, but..." Don started the sentence and they all knew how to finish it. However, Malarkey wasn't about to insult a woman who had opened her home to them.
"Come on boys, eat up! I've got plenty left in the kitchen." Skip's mom waited for them to pick up their forks and try her homemade pasta. They each put a small fork-full in their mouths and she turned around to leave. Then, she heard it.
In the small moment between them putting the sauce on their tongues to her quick turn, they had all turned green. Malarkey and Penkala tried their best to keep composure, but Skip, bless his soul, started to gag. He ran to the bathroom faster than he had ever run to a foxhole back in Bastogne. There was a flurry of forks, napkins, and stomping feet, and Malarkey ran right after him. Not far behind, Penkala jumped up, too.
Not knowing what had just transpired, Skip's mom hurried to their small bathroom to find three men, three soldiers who had returned from the horrors of war, throwing up over a spaghetti dinner. There were arms and legs all over the place, scrambling for the tiny sink or toilet. They liked being close, but damn, not like this.
The night was meant for getting drunk, snuggling like they did in their small foxhole, remembering Berchtesgaden's beauty or the mountains in Zell am See, imitating Sink, laughing. Those were the memories they wanted, not the dreaded spaghetti-run on Currahee.
Maybe next time, he'd warn his mom. Next time, they'd just forgo the dinner all together and just go for drinks.