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“Oh.” I can’t think of anything else to say and the tension is too tight for me to let the silence be, so I add, “Did you eat a lot of burgers as a teenager?”
He cracks a smile. “Something like that. But I started turning into a chunky little ball and they were cut out of my diet completely."
“Why?”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You ever been a fat kid?”
I shake my head. I was relatively average weight my whole life and it wasn’t until I had Mimi that I packed on an extra twenty pounds that I just couldn’t shake.
“I was a fat kid,” he says. “I had asthma, so I wasn’t into sports, and after my dad lost his job, Mom used to buy us a lot of fast food to save money. Turned me into a little chunk with bad hair and my little speech impediments. I was a complete loser, in fact.”
It’s hard to imagine him being someone like that. It’s night and day. “Kids picked on you.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, but I didn’t care about that, they were mostly dumbasses anyway. I never really cared what other people said. My mom, on the other hand, did.”
He smiles and there’s a tinge of bitterness when he continues. “If there’s one thing she cares about, it’s the opinion of total strangers. She hated every time they called me fat and told me as much. Every day, she would lament and cry about how people were mocking her because of me. One day, I finally got tired of it and went on a run.”
“By yourself?”
“Yeah. I think I was twelve or thirteen at the time. Just started running. Almost had an asthma attack in the middle but I kept pushing until I did it.” He smiles. “My mom was there when I ran my first marathon. She said, 'finally, you’re the son I always wanted.’ ”
“That’s horrible,” I say, and he shrugs.
"She was telling her truth. I’d rather she didn’t lie to me."
But I couldn’t imagine it. If Mimi ever had a problem with her weight, I would take her to a dietician and make sure she's healthy. If so, I would leave it alone and make sure she knew I love her regardless. I wouldn’t make her hate herself so much that she never ate a burger again.
“Your dad didn’t put a stop to it?” I ask.
He scoffs. "Dad's even worse.”
“How?” I ask and he shakes his head silently. He doesn’t want to tell me. I can tell he’s uncomfortable with the line of questioning and it would probably be smart for me to let it go. But I don’t want to. “How?”
He glances at me sideways and smirks. “You know why I love to pick on you so much?”
“Huh?” I’m taken aback by the switch in direction.
His smile widens and I can swear his eyes twinkle as he says, “Because you’re the only one who pushes back at me like that.” There’s something in his eyes when he says it…a soft heat that has my heart skipping.
“What does that have to do with your dad?” I ask, grateful that my voice doesn’t waver.
He sighs before he answers. “The old man refused to speak to me any time I brought home anything less than an A.”
I let that sink in for a few minutes. “Wow.” I could finally understand why he turned out the way he did.
Still, my heart aches.
He catches my eye. “Don’t feel sorry for me. It’s not a poor little rich boy story. I'm just explaining why I don't eat burgers anymore. Plus, look at me now, right?”
“Yeah.” I’ve always admired his body, but somehow, learning all that makes me fed sad. "I would still like you if you were chubby, though."
"Yeah, right," he says. "We're here."
True to what Patience says, Hal's Burger Joint isn't too far, and with the evening rush, the parking lot is full.
And when we get close, it's even worse than I thought.
The restaurant is teeming with people as we walk in, and suddenly, there is a loud shout and clatter of furniture.
