looked on the verge of tears.
“The chicken satay
is
good,” I told him. “That’s what I always get.”
Luke was looking at me, I knew, as this was an outright lie. Thankfully, a beat later, he said, “She’s right. It’s pretty awesome.”
“So, Luke,” my father said suddenly, folding up his own menu. “Are you off to college this fall as well?”
“Yes, sir. To East U. Just like Emaline.”
Luke was the most-good natured person I knew, but even without that, it was clear from his tone and expression this was just an honest, polite answer to the question. From my father’s face, however, you would have thought he’d reached across the table and punched him. His face reddened, he coughed, then quickly looked down at his menu.
You brought it up,
I thought.
Don’t ask if you can’t handle being told.
For a minute we just sat there, in a silence that felt heavy like a blanket. On the one hand, I got some satisfaction thatthe subject at least made him uncomfortable. But then the awkwardness became excruciating.
Please, God,
I thought,
let us talk about something else. Anything.
Apparently, God was listening, as right then I heard a cell phone trill, the melody oddly (and irritatingly) familiar. It was “The Mexican Hat Dance.”
I looked at Luke—who was known for terrible ringtone choices—but he shook his head. It couldn’t be my father’s. Could it? Then Benji pulled something from his pocket.
“Not at the table,” my father said automatically.
“It’s Mom, though.” For a moment they just looked at each other, Luke and I in the periphery. Then Benji answered. “Hello? Yeah, hi. No, we just sat down to dinner …”
My father turned around in his seat, scanning the room. “Do we have a waitress here?”
“I’ll find someone,” Luke said. “I need to hit the restroom anyway.”
With that, he was up and gone, and I wished more than anything I could go with him. Benji was still talking.
“—a shrimp burger, but Dad said I had to get chicken satay.” My father looked at him, now clearly annoyed. “What? Oh, Emaline and her boyfriend. Luke.”
“Benji.”
“He’s really cool. He—”
“Benji.”
This time, Benji stopped talking. “What?”
“We don’t use the phone in the restaurant. Take it outside. Or at least up front.”
Benji looked at me, as if needing confirmation of this. When I didn’t give it, though—not my place, not even really my family—he got up anyway.
My father watched him, his mouth a thin line, as he wove through the tables towards the hostess stand. “That phone. It drives me crazy.”
“I didn’t realize kids his age even had them these days.”
“It’s relatively recent. Since we decided to separate. We figured it would make it easier for Leah and me to stay close to him.”
Separate?
“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress, finally appearing, asked from the end of the table.
“Water for me,” I blurted out, too quickly. My father, after consulting the beer list, asked for some microbrew I’d never heard of. As she went to the bar, we were both quiet for a moment. Then I swallowed and said, “I didn’t realize you and Leah had …”
He looked up from the beer menu, meeting my eyes. Suddenly the more tired expression, how he seemed older somehow, made sense. “We only decided a few months ago. Benji doesn’t know yet.”
I nodded, all the while doing the math in my head. A few months ago had been just after my acceptance to Columbia. This, then, was the Unforeseen Circumstance that had forced his own
We regret to inform you
.
“I’m sorry.”
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “Yes. Thanks.”
Our waitress, now working at warp speed, came back with our drinks. Once they were distributed, she said, “Are we waiting for two more?”
“They’re here,” I told her. “Just—”
“Give us five more minutes,” my father said. She nodded, retreating again, and I watched him glance at Benji, who was now
“The chicken satay
is
good,” I told him. “That’s what I always get.”
Luke was looking at me, I knew, as this was an outright lie. Thankfully, a beat later, he said, “She’s right. It’s pretty awesome.”
“So, Luke,” my father said suddenly, folding up his own menu. “Are you off to college this fall as well?”
“Yes, sir. To East U. Just like Emaline.”
Luke was the most-good natured person I knew, but even without that, it was clear from his tone and expression this was just an honest, polite answer to the question. From my father’s face, however, you would have thought he’d reached across the table and punched him. His face reddened, he coughed, then quickly looked down at his menu.
You brought it up,
I thought.
Don’t ask if you can’t handle being told.
For a minute we just sat there, in a silence that felt heavy like a blanket. On the one hand, I got some satisfaction thatthe subject at least made him uncomfortable. But then the awkwardness became excruciating.
Please, God,
I thought,
let us talk about something else. Anything.
Apparently, God was listening, as right then I heard a cell phone trill, the melody oddly (and irritatingly) familiar. It was “The Mexican Hat Dance.”
I looked at Luke—who was known for terrible ringtone choices—but he shook his head. It couldn’t be my father’s. Could it? Then Benji pulled something from his pocket.
“Not at the table,” my father said automatically.
“It’s Mom, though.” For a moment they just looked at each other, Luke and I in the periphery. Then Benji answered. “Hello? Yeah, hi. No, we just sat down to dinner …”
My father turned around in his seat, scanning the room. “Do we have a waitress here?”
“I’ll find someone,” Luke said. “I need to hit the restroom anyway.”
With that, he was up and gone, and I wished more than anything I could go with him. Benji was still talking.
“—a shrimp burger, but Dad said I had to get chicken satay.” My father looked at him, now clearly annoyed. “What? Oh, Emaline and her boyfriend. Luke.”
“Benji.”
“He’s really cool. He—”
“Benji.”
This time, Benji stopped talking. “What?”
“We don’t use the phone in the restaurant. Take it outside. Or at least up front.”
Benji looked at me, as if needing confirmation of this. When I didn’t give it, though—not my place, not even really my family—he got up anyway.
My father watched him, his mouth a thin line, as he wove through the tables towards the hostess stand. “That phone. It drives me crazy.”
“I didn’t realize kids his age even had them these days.”
“It’s relatively recent. Since we decided to separate. We figured it would make it easier for Leah and me to stay close to him.”
Separate?
“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress, finally appearing, asked from the end of the table.
“Water for me,” I blurted out, too quickly. My father, after consulting the beer list, asked for some microbrew I’d never heard of. As she went to the bar, we were both quiet for a moment. Then I swallowed and said, “I didn’t realize you and Leah had …”
He looked up from the beer menu, meeting my eyes. Suddenly the more tired expression, how he seemed older somehow, made sense. “We only decided a few months ago. Benji doesn’t know yet.”
I nodded, all the while doing the math in my head. A few months ago had been just after my acceptance to Columbia. This, then, was the Unforeseen Circumstance that had forced his own
We regret to inform you
.
“I’m sorry.”
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “Yes. Thanks.”
Our waitress, now working at warp speed, came back with our drinks. Once they were distributed, she said, “Are we waiting for two more?”
“They’re here,” I told her. “Just—”
“Give us five more minutes,” my father said. She nodded, retreating again, and I watched him glance at Benji, who was now
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