We sat back in our seats as the lights dimmed and the second half began. Near the end of the performance I heard a sniffle. I furtively glanced over at Nicholas as he wiped his eyes with a crumpled Kleenex.

After the show the cast came out to the lobby to shake hands with the audience. We thanked them for the performance before walking out into the cold night air.

“That was really good,” I said.

“I’m glad I finally got to see it.”

“It affected you.”

He nodded. “It’s about redemption and hope.” He looked me in the eyes. “Hope that we can be better than our mistakes.”

His words struck me to the core. It was as if he knew me intimately. It took me a moment to respond. “Thank you for taking me.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. When we got back to his car he asked, “Are you hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Do you like Thai food?”

“I’ve never had it. But I’d like to try it.”

“Good. I know a place.”

The restaurant was less than ten minutes from the theater. A young Thai woman seated us in a vacant corner of the restaurant and handed us menus. I looked mine over. “I have no idea what to order.”

“How about I order a few dishes and we’ll share?”

I set down my menu. “Perfect.”

When our waitress came, Nicholas ordered a bunch of things I couldn’t even pronounce, then said, “You’ll love it.” Then added, “Maybe.”

A few minutes later the waitress set two bowls of white soup on the table in front of us. “What’s this?” I asked.

“Coconut milk soup.”

Our waitress returned with a large bowl of noodles, two platters of curry dishes, and a large bowl of sticky rice.

I dished up my plate with a little of everything. I liked it all, which wasn’t too surprising, since everything was sweet.

In the middle of our dinner Nicholas asked, “Have you lived in Salt Lake your whole life?”

“No. I was born in Arizona. I lived there until I was fourteen.”

“Where in Arizona?”

“Chino Valley. Near Prescott. Do you know Arizona?”

“A little,” he replied. “I’ve spent some time there. What brought you to Utah?”

“My father.”

“Work?”

“No. It’s more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

I hesitated. “My father was an interesting man.”

“By interesting do you mean, a ‘fascinating individual’ or a ‘living hell’?”

I laughed. “More of the latter,” I said. Nicholas continued looking at me in anticipation. “Are you sure you really want to hear this?”

“I love to hear people’s histories,” he said. “Especially the interesting ones.”