"Why did you leave?"
A horrible silence hung over, leaving Evan to sit and beat himself up over it. Why did he speak? He should have kept quiet and everything would be okay. He could have been close with his father again.
"Let's talk about that later, Evan," his father almost growled, shooting him a look through the rearview mirror.
Evan felt his face begin to burn. He knew it was red. He felt his lungs constrict, breathing deeper but slower to prevent himself from hyperventilating. He felt his left hand fly to his right arm, scratching violently at it. Connor instantly reached across Evan, holding his hand tightly in his own, wishing he could do more.
Evan squeezed his eyes shut, doing breathing exercises, slowly relaxing as Connor stroked his hand. It was a small gesture, but it made Evan feel so much better and he couldn't even explain why. The click of his father's seatbelt unbuckling ripped him out of his thoughts as he looked up through the windshield.
It was a very small building for a restaurant and the parking lot could probably fit a maximum of five cars. They all got out of the car, making their way to the front door as a middle-aged woman looked up.
"Oh my goodness!" a smile instantly spread across both of their faces as she hugged his father and looked at Evan, "Is that Evan? You're so big now!"
Connor bit his lip as he watched the woman hug Evan and shower him with questions, knowing this would make him anxious. A woman whom he did not know making physical contact and talking a million miles a minute was a huge stressor for him, but Connor felt helpless. Evan just stood there, stuttering and sweating as he looked at the ground, trying desperately to answer the woman's questions.
"Cat got your tongue?" she laughed, grabbing three menus, "That's alright. Now that your daddy's back in town, we should have plenty of time to catch up, dear."
She led them to a table in the corner, going over their specials and discounts before leaving them to go over the menu.
"What are you gonna get?" Connor leaned in closer to Evan, glancing at his menu as if it wasn't exactly identical to his own.
"Probably a garden s-salad, I guess," Evan responded, feeling sick as he thought about the calorie content in everything else.
"I'll order for you-"
"Evan can order for himself," his father chimed in, "He's an adult now, he can do something as simple as ordering his own food."
Neither of the boys protested, regardless of how unbelievably badly they wanted to. This man had been out of Evan's life for eleven years, how would he know that Evan couldn't order his own food? The waitress came back around, pen and notepad ready.
"You guys ready?" she asked cheerfully, clicking her pen and getting ready to write, "We'll start here with Evan."
"I'll take a, um, a garden s-salad, please," he stammered out, staring at the menu to avoid eye contact.
"Dressing?"
"Oh! I, um... no d-dressing, please." Evan did want dressing, but he'd forgotten to look at the options and he didn't want to hold her up.
"Drink?"
"W-water, please."
That was bad. That was very bad. He closed his eyes and put his face in his hands as she took orders from the rest of the table. He sounded so stupid and he stuttered so much. He'd only said "um" twice but it felt more like a thousand, and he felt like he was on a stage in front of hundreds of people laughing at him. He bet the waitress was probably back in the kitchen, telling the rest of the staff about how moronic he looked and they were all laughing at him.
"You got a salad?" his father asked with distaste, "And a garden salad at that? There's no meat in that. That's a girl's meal; a side dish. That's not a meal for a man."
"I'm n-not very hungry." Evan looked at the table, rethinking his order.
"You didn't even get dressing. You're just gonna eat lettuce for dinner?"
"There are tomatoes in it, too, actually-"
"What, are you anorexic or something now? Lettuce and tomatoes aren't dinner."
Evan stayed silent at this point. He didn't think that his dinner order would get him ridiculed by his own dad, but apparently, he was wrong. How could someone who overthinks so much be so thoughtless?
The waitress came back with their drinks and Evan's salad, informing them that the other entrees weren't finished cooking. Evan wasn't sure if he should start eating or wait for everyone else's food to arrive so he excused himself to the bathroom, hoping their food would be there by the time he returned. Less than a full second after Evan got into the bathroom, the door swung back open.
"I cannot fucking stand him." Connor's fists were balled up, knuckles white.
"Con, calm down, please," Evan sighed, taking Connor's hands in his own, forcing them to unball, "I'm already freaking out, and I really need at least one of us to be level-headed."
Connor sighed and looked down before making eye contact again, "Can we at least take turns freaking out?"
"Nope," Evan giggled, shaking his head, "I freaked out first, I get dibs."
"So selfish, Hansen." Connor shook his head, chucking along as the walked out of the bathroom together seeing three entrees on their table.
