One Bellini, Please

I’ll meet you there in 10

Received now.

If he walked in right now, I’d hug him the way you awkwardly hug someone you just met. I’d twiddle with the grease-stained menu and let him do most of the talking. I’d ask for an explanation, but I wouldn’t really care for the answer.

If he walked in right now, with a woman who had a diamond necklace dangling in between her surgically sculpted chest, I’d down the Bellini in my hand, and let the delicate taste of peach overtake the alcohol bleeding into my system. I’d give her a forced smile while shaking her freshly manicured hand. His face would still have the same shit-eating grin I remembered from 7 Christmases ago when he handed me an unwrapped cheesy John Green novel. Merry Christmas kiddo,​ he’d say as Mom held a tense smile. ​​I don’t even like to fucking read.

If he walked in right now, he’d arrogantly gawk at the blonde 21-year-old waitress whose smile reeked of vulnerability. He’d ask how Mom was doing while taking out his phone and scrolling through unread messages, his next sentence already on his lips, barely waiting for my answer. I’d say good​ without reciprocated eye contact, even though if she knew I was here she’d be furious. She would rather I spend my 19th birthday feeling flirty with a bottle of tequila pressed to my lips. She’d rather my cheek be lodged against a toilet at an unremarkably average party, rather than find out I’m meeting the man that drained our bank accounts and took off without a second glance.

If he walked in right now, I’d scream and spit in his face. I’d think I was getting closure by causing a scene in the stagnant restaurant, with happy families glaring our way. I’d slam my hands on the dark wooden table. The salt and pepper shakers would rumble while cutlery clattered onto the floor, and a bunch of lovely people’s date night would be ruined.

If he walked in right now, I’d keep a straight face. The kind you’d see on a biker chick in an action movie. I’d listen to him tell me why he took everything from us. I’d stare out the window while the rain pattered off the concrete, looking like stars flickering in the night sky. I’d let him shed a pathetic tear while admitting to leaving his own daughter with nothing.

I’ll meet you there in 10

Received 7 min ago.

If he walked in right now, he’d see an abandoned half-empty Bellini with lip gloss smudged around the sugar-coated rim. He’d probably make a sleazy comment to the waitress, while sliding her a $5 tip that should have stayed in my mother’s wallet, before turning around and heading out the door. He’d be annoyed that he added unnecessary mileage on his new BMW. In my parked car, I’d make a poor attempt at a smile as I watched little kids being swung by the arms of their mom and dad while exiting the restaurant. I’d see the lights of his shiny beamer blink like a warning signal as the car unlocked and the door opened. I’d have tears streaming down my face, but a soundless giggle would still leave my lips. I’d exit onto the main road, with his text still lingering on my phone.

I swipe it away, and instead, ask my mom to meet me for a Bellini.