*Can we talk at dinner?**Yeah, why wouldn’t we? Are you going to stay downstairs for that?**Yes**Okay. When?**Ten minutes. Don’t be late*I almost ...acked out of getting dinner. My nerves so worked that I had returned to my room while the stew finished. In my room, I was a complete mess with what I was about to do. Tell Mike about his father. There was a surety that Mike would hate me for sure when I told told him about his father. Maybe I wanted to finally open up to someone about it.After ten. Now what did that mean? I wondered.We ate our meal and continued our b-s chat about our lives so that when we go to work tomorrow, we would have our buddy talk down solid. Over the course of dinner, we both probably had 3-4 more beers, I was feeling light headed but not drunk, he seemed to handle his beer just fine. Just as we finished eating, it seemed like his foot was on mine, almost as if he wanted to play footsie. I didn't know hot to react but the beer seemed to have a calming effect on. More

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