#18 Excuse Me?

"Just give her a break, Dylan," I said.

"A break? That had to be the most disgusting display of table manners I've ever seen!"

Dylan quickened his pace as we crossed the parking lot. I hurried to stay even with him.
"Look, I know people who talk with food in their mouth is kind of a pet peeve for you..."

Dylan turned and grabbed my coat stopping us both on the spot. He had 5 inches and 25 pounds on me. He knew how to use his size to intimidate when he wanted.

"Her little display in there was rude and obnoxious. Go ahead and tell me she wasn't acting like a pig!"
"Dylan, I..."

"No, you can't. And you know I'm paranoid about choking on food and dying." Dylan paused and leaned in close. "Why am I paranoid about choking, Michael? Why?"

I took a shaky breath before answering. Dylan was getting pretty scary. "Because of the way your mom died."

"That's right. I watched her choke on a simple bite of food. And since they don't teach five-year olds the Heimlich maneuver and sometimes adults pretend stuff like sleeping and dying, I didn't do anything to save her."

He finally let go of me. I rubbed the feeling back into to my right triceps muscle. He started walking toward the car again. The final 30 seconds passed in silence.

"OK. I understand your little sister is only nine. But someone has to teach them about these things. No one in your family deems it important."

"Don't you think covering her mouth with a napkin and shouting, 'Breathe, bitch, breathe!' was over the top? I mean it was a birthday party and she was trying to sing during the cake cutting."