Sam was sitting across from me. He wasn't paying any attention to me. In fact his attention was on cutting up his grilled chicken. The knife was in his right hand while the fork in his left and he was sawing away at it. The tip of his tongue at the edge of his bottom lip. It was actually quite entertaining and it took my mind off the food in front of me.
A giant bowl of salad was laid out in front of me. The fork was resting against the bowls edge, lonely. I haven't taken a bite yet.
We've never been to this restaurant before and Sam was dying to eat here. It was only a few blocks away from our apartment. It was a small quaint place. Fairy lights lined the ceiling and soft classical music flowed through the speakers. It was relaxing and I think Sam was enjoying it.
He finally cut his chicken how he wanted it and stabbed a piece with his fork. He dabbed it into some BBQ sauce and brought it up to his lips. He chewed intensely. I watch his face light up as he enjoyed his chicken. That's when he notices me staring at him.
"How's yours?" He motions to my bowl of untouched salad. It was just a side salad with ranch dressing, nothing special. I wasn't really hungry, well I haven't really been hungry lately.
I swirl the lettuce around with my fork and say, "It's good." Sam takes another bite.
"I can't believe you ordered a salad," he comments. I laugh softly. It was true, the expression on on his face when I ordered was priceless.
"Yeah, well I'm not that hungry tonight," I reply, leaning back in my chair.
I take a sip of my water, still watching Sam eat. I was kind of jealous he could eat all that food and not gain any weight.
"What'd you have for lunch?" He questions. He was out all day doing meetings and all that fun stuff. I was left alone at our apartment by myself. It got kind of boring to be honest. I ended up finishing a whole season of Friends.
I didn't have the heart to tell him I didn't eat lunch so I lied and said, "A ham sandwich." Sam nods contently.
The waiter brings our check to us and takes Sams now empty plate away. I had taken three bites, small ones, so Sam wouldn't ask more questions. I instantly felt like throwing it up. I could feel it just sitting in my stomach, turning to fat.
"Um I'll take a box," I squeak out.
Sam grabs the check and pulls out his wallet. He grabs his credit card and lays it on the table for the waiter. He returns with my box and takes the card.
"I could've paid for my half," I said, trying to pour my salad into the styrofoam container.
"It's alright," Sam shrugs watching me.
The waiter returns with Sams card and we exit the restaurant. We walk the few blocks back to our apartment and I'm glad we didn't drive here. The walk will hopefully burn off the three bites of salad I ate. It was nice out though, a soft breeze floating through the air and we took our time.
Once entering our shared apartment, I place my salad box into the fridge. It was full of random things like ketchup, string cheese, some yogurts, bottles of water and the sort. I knew the salad would sit in their for days before Sam would toss it out. He's done that with every take-home box I've gotten. I let it sit in there, untouched and full to the top.
Sam collapses on the couch and turns the tv on. I bolt to my room, which is right across from Sam's, and shut the door. I lean against it and breath heavily. The feeling of the salad still making me feel fat. I got the bigger room so it had an attached bathroom. I go into it and sit on the side of the tub.
