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“For what?” I asked.
“Dinner,” he said with a chuckle. “You usually know before we even get in the car.”
“Oh…right.” I forced a smile. “I’m not sure yet, been busy today. What about you?”
“Maybe the lasagna, but it depends on their specials.”
We got into the back seat, and his driver took us to the restaurant, which was several blocks away and a long drive with all the traffic. We spent that time in silence, and I ached to check my phone, to see if Axel had texted me, even when I fully knew he hadn’t. I looked out the window and noticed all the couples on the street, holding hands or eating gelato together. I pictured Axel walking down the street, holding the pizza box that he would deliver right to my door.
“Sweetheart?”
I turned to look at my father.
He stared at me, like I was supposed to say something.
“I asked how your friends are doing.”
“Oh…they’re good,” I said. “Shelly and I went wine tasting last week.”
“That’s nice,” he said with a nod. “Everything alright? You seem distracted.”
“No, I was just daydreaming.” About a man who may not want me anymore.
We arrived at the restaurant and were seated at a table for two. There was a little vase of flowers on the white tablecloth, and a short and fat white candle sat there, the single flame still because there was no draft in the restaurant.
Our menus were presented, and my father immediately ordered the wine for the table. The basket of bread was placed between us, and while I would normally devour it, I had no desire.
My father finished with his menu and set it aside. “You haven’t looked at your menu, sweetheart.”
“Oh.” I grabbed it and held it up. “Yeah.” I scanned through it, decided on my usual, and then put the menu down.
The waiter poured the wine then took our orders.
“What are your specials?” my father asked.
The waiter listed them all off. “Salmon pappardelle, lobster ravioli in a cream sauce, and grilled swordfish with mashed potatoes.”
“The lobster ravioli sounds good,” he said as he handed his menu over. “I’ll take that. And sweetheart, the gnocchi?”
“Yeah…sure.”
“My daughter will take the gnocchi.” He grabbed my menu and handed it over.
When the waiter walked away, I took a big drink of the wine and swirled it in the glass before I took another sip.
My father watched me but kept his thoughts to himself.
I tried to think of something to talk about, but I really wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Couldn’t think of anything to say, when normally, my father and I talked effortlessly.
“You sure you’re alright?” he asked, his fingers on the stem of his glass.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I stared at my wine as I said it, but my voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. “You know what?” I raised my chin and looked at him, releasing a heavy breath. “No, I’m not okay.”
My father observed me, turning still as a statue.
“We tell each other everything, and I don’t want to keep this from you anymore.”
His eyes were guarded and hard rather than affectionate, like he didn’t want to hear what I had to say…which couldn’t be possible. He was probably just nervous about my troubles.
