Michael signed the receipt and put his card away. Marlene retouched her lipstick using a small mirror she took from her designer handbag. Her parents chatted among themselves about a trip to Europe they were planning for next month.
It was all so normal for them. So everyday. As if they had just had a pleasant dinner and not a psychological torture session.
I remained still, hands still in my lap, observing every detail—every gesture, every word—storing it all in my memory as evidence of this moment, of this night that would change everything.
“Well,” Marlene said, standing up and smoothing her dress, “I think it’s time to go. We have a busy day tomorrow. The meeting with the interior decorator is at 9:00.”
Everyone began to get up. Michael helped his mother-in-law with her coat. Marlene’s father left a generous tip on the table, $40 in cash, as if wanting to demonstrate his magnanimity, even to the service staff.