The Quest For Eternal Happiness

Chapter Three

"Silas, Skye dear, don't you two want to sit down?"

I was dragged back to my sobering reality when I heard my mom's voice echo from the kitchen. Skye and I both turned to see her walk out with the lasagna - its biologically hazardous levels of cheesiness contained in a ceramic baking dish that she set in the middle of the dining room table. Jason leaned forward.

"Looks incredible Ann. You know, you two better get over here before I demolish this thing." Jason exclaimed as he smirked towards our direction. "No joke, it's gonna be a blowout."

Skye glanced back towards me, the uneasy air of suspense having been broken by Jason's conceitedness.

"Let's... continue this later, ok?" Skye said, "I wanna eat, and I don't think discussing a dead man over the dinner table is real appetizing."

"Yeah, no." I agreed. "We can go to my bedroom after dinner or something."

Skye froze for a moment.

"Wow, that's forward of you." She snickered.

"I didn't mean it that way." I rubbed the skin on my nose as Skye giggled. "You've been up there, like, a thousand times, don't make it weird." She laughed harder as all the tension between us previously vanished.

"Ok, ok, sorry. It's just fun seeing you get all flustered."

"Yeah, I bet it is."

I walked with Skye across to the dining room, where my dad had sat down at the head of the table, already deep in conversation, while Jason proceeded to cram a giant piece of lasagna into his mouth, strings of cheese leading from his plate to the baking dish.

"Gosh, Ann." Jason said with a mouth dripping with tomato sauce. "What kinda cheese you used in this?"

"Oh, just Mozzarella and some American Cheese."

Fun fact! Did you know American cheese isn't actually legally classified as cheese? The FDA calls it "pasteurized processed American cheese food" because to be called cheese, you have to be at least fifty percent actual cheese (which, I'm sorry, but isn't that an extremely low bar?) Because of that, American cheese is forever relegated from its fellow dairy products as an abhorrent monster, devoid of the holy touch of god, and cursed to be forever called "cheese food." Which, in my eyes, is pretty metal.

We took our seats as my mom continued to hand out slices of scalding lasagna, and as Jason and my dad continued to talk about whatever was on their minds in the moment. Skye and I would once in a while take turns looking over at each other, almost as if we were waiting for the other to say or do something. However, it seemed like we both silently agreed to finish up our food as fast as possible, so we could be away from the adults and discuss middle aged dead men in piece.

After inhaling my third slice of lasagna, which contributed further to the burning of the roof of my mouth, I was all in all finished with dinner. The grownups took their time, conversing between bites, and portioning their food into endless fractions. Skye set down her silverware and butted into their discussion.

"Um, excuse me," She started. "Could me and Silas be excused from the dinner table?"

"Can you and Silas be excused?" Jason chuckled. "Does Silas know about this?"

"Silas knows very much about this." I spoke in third person.

"You two done with your food?" my dad asked.

We glanced towards each other, then back at him, tomato sauce running down both our chins."Uh-huh." Skye murmured.

"Mhm." I agreed.