Table for Two

I look up from my empty glass desperately trying to get the attention of my waiter for a top off. Wine seems to be the only remaining remedy for my nerves which is exactly what put me in this position to begin with. My eyes search for the waiter but land on someone else. The sounds of the restaurant chatter and music drown out as I see her walk in. I don’t remember her being this beautiful but then again it’s been years since I’ve seen her. I watch her follow behind the hostess to her table, her wavy auburn hair swishing back and forth as she walks. She got taller, leaner, but somehow curvier. She looks like she’s been working out which makes me smile. I’m glad she’s taking care of herself. Her skin is also a lot tanner than I remember and she’s wearing a lot more make-up these days. How old is she now? 23..No 24, she just had a birthday.

I duck my head into my menu as the hostess leads her right past my table and to hers. I don’t know why I bother, it’s not like she’d recognize me anyways. She takes her seat at the table three down from mine. The hostess lets her know she’ll be sending over the waiter to grab her a drink while she waits for the joining party. My heart aches as I look at the empty seat across from her knowing it won’t be filled. I know, because that seat is meant for me.

“How about a refill?” I’m startled by the sudden emergence of my waiter. He’s standing there with a forced smile slapped across his face as he gestures to my glass. I give a slight nod and feel the twinge of guilt in my chest that I know I’ll always ignore. Another problem in which wine is the solution. I look back over and see her laying the napkin across her lap. She looks nervous too. She bites on the inside of her cheeks and I can see that she’s tapping her foot under the table by the way the tablecloth moves slightly. My waiter returns with my glass of wine and I make sure to order another before he leaves as this glass won’t be filled for long. As the clock ticks by I stare at her and think of how different our lives could have been had we known each other. I wonder what she likes to do with her free time, who she likes, what makes her sad or mad, I wonder about the things or people that make her smile and how rewarding it must be to be the one to make her smile. The people that raised her are lucky to have gotten the opportunity to watch her grow into woman she is today. Jealousy and anger course through my body. I turn back over to my own table and chug the remainder of my wine, knowing that a refill is on its way.

As the time passes I watch her grow slowly more frustrated at my absence. The tik, tik, tik of the clock goes by for an hour as other people come and go, and my glass fills and empties. All the while she waits without ordering so much as a single drink as if filling her cup would cement the emptiness of the one that sits across her. She checks her watch and looks around the restaurant. Our eyes meet. I sit unable to breath as her hazel eyes gaze upon mine, I freeze hoping for recognition but dreading it all the same. It lasts just a second before her eyes pass from mine and continue their search around the room. I’m not sure why a wave of sadness crashes into me at the realization that she truly doesn’t know who I am. It’s not like I’m anything to her but a stranger. I can see her take a deep breath and dip her head. A tear rolls down her cheek and she quickly swipes it away before anyone else can notice. My head spins either from all the wine I’ve had or watching the torment I’ve caused. I quickly stand up and saunter over to the ladies room nearly taking down a waiter on my way.

I slam open the bathroom door and run over to sink. I splash my face with cold water praying that it helps relax my body but knowing that it won’t. It’s going to take a lot more than a little restaurant tap water to absolve my soul of the guilt that resides within it. I hold myself up on the sink with my hands and stare into my own reflection. My hair’s natural deep auburn color looks dull and is filled with knots. Deep, dark bags sit under my eyes and do nothing to distract from my dry, cracked skin and paleness. My stomach hangs over the belt of my pants.

“Pathetic.” I spit at my own reflection. I turn my back and sit on the edge of the sink with my head leaned back onto the mirror. My mind races with conflicting thoughts and emotions. When I reached out to her I had every intention on taking a seat at her table yet here I am ducking and running away like a coward as she sits for over an hour waiting for me. Waiting for me. I sit up straighter at the thought. She showed up. She wants to see me. She wants to know me. I hop off the edge of the sink and turn back around to face the mirror. I pat down my hair and straighten out my clothes as if that would make my appearance any more palatable.

I give myself a weary smile, “time to go meet your daughter.” I rush out of the bathroom in practically a sprint and am stopped dead in my tracks as I round the bathroom corner out into the main floor. Empty. The table is empty. She left. I’m too late. I stand there expressionless, motionless as everyone continues to move around me. Time slows down and the world begins to move in slow motion. I take a small step towards her table, followed by another. One foot after another I make my way over and plop myself down in the seat that has been awaiting my arrival. I face the emptiness across from me that should have been occupied by the part of me I lost long ago. I made a decision a while back, a drink over a daughter. I’ve never regretted a decision more but also have never walked back from that choice. When I hired an investigator to find her it was supposed to be my second chance. I’m not on the wagon by any means but regardless, I want to know her, I want her to know me. And she showed up, she waited. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Better this way. Better for her to hate my absence than for her to get to know me and hate my presence.

I stand up and walk back over to my own table. I quietly flag down a waiter and pay my tab. As I leave, I glance back once more. Two empty chairs, with two empty plates and two unfilled glasses. Two hearts were broken today at a table in which only one sat. Like that, the table shall be forever frozen in my memory. Waiting for a conversation that never happened and a meeting that will never take place. I turn and walk out the front doors letting them slam behind me. I don’t dare take another look back as I walk in search of something a little stronger than wine.