Darling at Dinner
The waiter was staring at Darling, not me.
When Darling admitted she wasn’t 18, he left her wine glass anyway. He took mine immediately, probably mistaking me for 12. Our parents didn’t protest. My sister sipped the red expertly. He gave them complimentary limoncello. He poured next to Darling, leaning towards the precious fallen mascara clumps under her lashes.
Darling smiled at me.
The waiter watched her by the kitchen. Every time she swallowed.
In the car, she showed me the crumpled paper. The number scrawled hastily, a condescending grin and wide eyes.
I snatched the paper and swallowed it.
Photo Credit: Travis Nep Smith
I like the sassy narrator. Great story
From the title onwards, I loved this piece. And the waiter, taking his chances under the eyes of the parents. I enjoyed the ambiguity of the narrator too. How old are they? Who are they? And what relationship do they have to Darling?