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“So, Allie, what did you do all afternoon?” my father asks.
My eyebrows shoot up. I can’t remember the last time my father asked me about my daily activities.
“Um, I studied,” I lie. “Finals are coming up.”
My father nods. “Ah, yes,” he says. He clears his throat.
Suddenly, it hits me that my father is just as nervous of interacting with me as I am with him. The thought is strangely comforting. Maybe my parents have always yearned for a relationship with me, too.
God, I can’t wait to be part of a real family.
The limo stops in front of a fancy Italian restaurant. Inside, mouth watering smells of Bolognese and homemade pasta assault my senses. I lick my lips with anticipation as a glamorous hostess leads us to a large corner booth.
My father raises a hand in the air and a waiter appears tableside.
“The most expensive bottle of red on the menu, I don’t care what varietal,” my father snaps. “Three glasses.”
The waiter looks miffed as he retreats. Inwardly, I’m cringing. Dane would never act so crass in public. Just thinking about his name sends a bolt of pain through me and tears come to my eyes.
No, I tell myself as I look down at the menu. That part of your life is over. You’re never going to be seeing him again, so get over it.
Besides, I can tell that my father is trying his best. It’s not his fault if he’s never learned fancy dining manners. He’s always worked hard to provide for my mother and me.
I feel ungrateful for all the yea
rs where I actively avoided conversation with my parents.
“So, Allie, what looks good to you?” Dad asks.
“Everything,” I say honestly. “But the goat cheese ravioli with asparagus and brown butter sounds great. Oh! And garlic bread, too. With cheese,” I add timidly.
That’s when my mother cuts in. “Allie, you should really be watching your—”
“Shut up, Donna,” my father snaps. He turns and gives me a nice smile. “Sweetie, eat whatever you want. Don’t worry about your mother. She’s just jealous because you’re young.”
My mother looks murderous, but I can’t help relaxing a teeny bit. Just knowing I have one parent on my side feels so good, like basking in the rays of a really powerful sun. I don’t know what I’ve finally done to earn his love and respect, but whatever it is, I’m going to keep at it.
When the waiter comes with the wine, he pours a taste for my father. My father narrows his eyes in response.
“What the hell,” my father says loudly. “I want a full glass, you idiot!”
The waiter raises an eyebrow and clears his throat. “It’s for you to taste, sir,” he says.
My father grabs the glass and downs the whole thing at once. “I already fucking bought the bottle, who cares what it tastes like? Besides, it’s the most expensive one on the menu. I’m sure it’s great.”
My mother looks mortified, as if she wants to melt into the supple leather of the booths, but I can’t help but feel a little pity for my dad. Maybe one day, when we’re closer, I can show him how to dine at a fancy restaurant and he can teach me about his business.
“Very well, sir,” the waiter replies. “Have we decided on a meal?”
“We’ll start with cheesy garlic bread and an order of fried calamari for the table,” my father says. He looks at me and winks. The gesture is so boyish and unexpectedly charming that I can’t help smiling. “And for an entrée, I’ll have the lobster Fra Diavolo.”
The waiter takes my order of ravioli before turning to my mother. With a pinched expression on her face, she orders a garden salad with the dressing on the side.
“So, Allie, were you still interested in studying abroad?” my father asks. He takes a long sip of wine. “We can make that happen, you know.”
I purse my lips and nod. Before this morning, I wouldn’t have wanted to go. The idea of being away from Dane was far too painful, but now that I know I’ll never be with him again, I want to be as far away as possible.
“Yes,” I reply. “I’d love that.” I try the wine. It’s not the best I’ve ever had, but it’s not bad.
