Margaret stared at him for what seemed like minutes, even if it was a few seconds. It was definitely longer than Andrew's "three seconds" he'd deemed for an acceptable response. He finished chewing, stared at her, his eyes glaring at her, and she just sat there, mouth open, trying to digest the conversation. Andrew finally let out a very loud sigh, stood, and threw down his napkin. He fished around, found his wallet, and threw down some money as well. He turned to leave and was almost to the door of the small place when the door opened and in stepped his parents.
"Andrew, wait," he also heard at the same time as his eyes met with those of his mom.
"Oh, hi, Andrew," his mom smiled warmly. He shook his head, clearly irritated, and he put up his hand toward the back, toward Margaret who appeared to now be up and walking toward him.
"I can't do this tonight," he mumbled to his parents and brushed by them as he left. He stepped outside, ran his hand over his face, and he finally dropped, bending over to almost keep from getting sick. He realized his breathing was off, and he took a few deep breaths to try and get it under control. The night was quiet. The sky was still bright, with the summer light barely fading overnight. He was grateful for the silence, for no one coming after him. He composed himself and started back to the motel. He needed to be alone.
He walked quickly and returned to the motel, storming through the lobby area, not that he cared if he made a scene. He made it to his room and fumbled around again for his stupid key. This place was old school and had actual room keys, not the plastic cards 99% of the rest of the world seemed to have. He finally pulled the key and began working on the lock, taking most of his aggression out on the lock. Once he managed to get into his room, he threw the key, ran his hands through his hair, and he groaned. He wasn't sure why he was so frustrated. Margaret had just told him what he'd wanted to hear a year ago, but that maybe was the point of his frustration. Where had she been for a year? Why was he so mad? Why was he storming around now? All of it was total insanity.
He needed to distract himself. He looked toward his bag and briefly considered going for a run. His mind wandered during runs, and this town was way too small to even consider going back outside again. SHE would be outside somewhere, anywhere. He decided to just grab a shower and cool off. The day had been long, and her arrival had been something he hadn't planned or wanted to deal with right now.
15 minutes later, he flopped on the bed, convinced the shower hadn't helped to get his mind off of things. He turned on the television which had five channels. FIVE. How does a television have five channels? He didn't even care. One was news, one was sports, and the other three were network television. Five channels. Unbelievable. He watched the sports channel, mindlessly, and laid there in his sweats and old t-shirt. As his mind processed things, he realized he was hungry, really hungry, and that made him mad. That had been a good steak, and Margaret had made him walk away from that.
"Honey," he heard his mother knocking on his door. "Are you okay?"
"Fine, I'm fine," he called back to her, knowing that if he didn't, she would start calling him.
"We picked up some takeout and are headed to our room. We're worried about you," she said through the door. He almost yelled, but he caught himself before he did, knowing that his mother was not to be the victim of his frustrations. "I'm fine, Mom. I'll talk to you in the morning."
He didn't hear a reply, and he let out a long sigh, thankful that she'd taken the hint and had let him be. He closed his eyes and focused on listening to the baseball game he'd found on tv. Another knock about sent him flying to the door ready to punch someone.
"I'm going to bed!" Andrew yelled out this time, unable to reign in his frustration. He really thought his mom had figured it out. The knocking continued, and he sat up quickly, ready to pounce.
"I'll stand out here and sing all night if you won't answer," a different voice replied, and he groaned at the sound of that voice, HER voice.
"Margaret, I need some space," he told her.
"Remember that song I sang around the fire with Gammy, the ahh, ahh, well, you know, it wasn't exactly-" she stopped talking. It was silent for a few seconds. "I'll start singing again here if you won't open the door. Look, you ran out without finishing your dinner. I felt badly and brought you food."
That caught his attention because he was hungry, really hungry. The pitiful bowl of soup at the hospital for lunch hadn't done anything. Now that his mind was on food, he couldn't stop thinking about it. He sighed, stood, and he shuffled to the door, knowing she WOULD start singing. She embarrassed easily with some things, but in other areas, she didn't care if the world watched her.
Andrew, with his hand on the doorknob, flung open the door, enough that it made her jump. That almost made him smile. Instead, he smirked at her and then grunted through his teeth, "You ruined my perfectly good dinner."
"I know, and I'm sorry about that," she told him honestly. She thrust a take-out box at him, "Here. I brought you dinner."
Andrew eyed the container, which was better than making eye contact with her. She shook it at him, and he finally snatched it from her. He opened it, his mouth watering to finish his steak, and quickly, he did look up at her.
"What is this?" Andrew pointed to the container.
"Food," she said with a quick nod. She glanced away from him. He gestured it toward her and continued.
"Where's my steak? I didn't order this," he said, now making a face. "I don't want a salad."
"Well, your steak was just sitting there, and I had a lot on my mind. Your parents sat down, we chatted, and I guess during the course of just sitting and talking," she said as she dropped her head and her voice, "I just finished your steak."
"So, you brought me a salad?" Andrew asked, making a face now and shaking his head. "No, no, no," he said again. "I don't want a salad. There's like no substance to a salad, not to mention this one looks about a week beyond its prime, if it ever had a prime. You interrupted my meal, and then you ate my steak?"
His eyes made contact with hers, and she scrunched up her face and shrugged, "I didn't plan to eat it. I didn't plan to bring you food or not bring you food. I just was hungry, more than I expected. I can't remember the last time I had a good steak. I didn't sit there and look at the steak and decide to eat it. It looked good and-"
"It was good, at least the couple bites I had!" Andrew bellowed. He closed the lid and pushed the salad back toward her. "Not hungry."
He stepped back into his room to close the door, but she called to him, "Andrew, wait, please. Look, I'm really sorry about the steak. I'll go get another one. I really am sorry. I am sorry about so much, and I do want to talk to you. I'll get more food or order a pizza or something. Please."
"I'm all talked out, Margaret," he said through gritted teeth. "I guess it's the lack of food."
"Look, your parents said you've been miserable. I have too. Can we please talk?" Margaret asked him, now pleading.
"I'm done," he said. He shook his head, stepped in, and he closed the door. He didn't even take two steps before she spoke from the other side of the door again.
"I'll just wait here, Andrew. I'll sing," she told him. He sighed, looked over, and he grabbed his hoodie. He put it on, irritated as he did, and he threw open the door again, causing her to fall into his room. She'd sat down on the floor, and with her back against the door, she'd fallen back as he'd flung open the door. She looked up at him; he looked down at her on the floor.
"Let's go before you are arrested for disturbing the peace. On that note, though," he snapped his finger, "maybe that could get you deported again."
"Where are we going?" Margaret said as she stood. He was already halfway down the hall and called back to her, "I'm in the mood for seafood."
She made a face as she tried to run after him, "I hate seafood."
He yelled back to her, "Hmm, well, you shouldn't be hungry after eating my steak."