Vincent

Sins of a Father

"What?" I asked as we walked into the kitchen. "You want to go right back into the public?"

"What did I tell you? Everything's okay, Marie."

I slowly nodded. "I'm sorry. . . what time? Am I allowed to come?"

"For sure, you're my daughter, why wouldn't I want you with me? We'll learn around nine."

"Dad, if you knew you weren't going to prison, why'd you meet with that lawyer?"

"I told you that I've met with him before, Marie."

"I know," I nodded, "do you want to watch a movie?"

"I'll make popcorn," Freddie announced.

-

It was hard to act upbeat when you felt terrible inside. It was easy when I was around my brother and father because they always made me happy but when we were at dinner, they both naturally diverted their attention to whoever they were with. A lot of my dad's friends were with us tonight, celebrating his win.

I was sitting by my brother at the end of the table. A waiter came up to take the drink order.

Dad looked behind him, huffing when he saw the kid. It was the kid from last time.

"This fuckin' kid- do you remember me this time?" dad asked as the kid stood there. His name was Kyle. I had to read his name tag because I couldn't remember.

"Yes, sir," he nodded, "what can I get for you tonight?"

"A fuckin' drink- this kid," Dad's friends laughed. Kyle weakly smiled, unsure about what to do. "What's the house wine tonight?"

"Um, it's a pinot grigio with some tones of grape and lemon-"

"No," dad cut him off, "it's not in season in Italy- and did you just say grape? It's a wine, of course, it's gonna have a fucking taste of grape- this fuckin' kid. . .  oak chardonnay," dad finalized. Kyle scribbled it down, listening for the others. He slowly made his way around the table to me and my brother.

"A glass of shiraz," Freddie quickly said, turning back to the conversation.

"And for you, miss?" he asked.

"Mind the miss!" dad called.

"W-what?" he asked, growing nervous.

"Mind the miss," dad repeated.

"It just means you can drop the 'miss,'" I gently told him, "as in you don't have to say it."

"Oh," he said, nodding with a small smile, "thank you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I don't care." I smiled back. "I'll just have water and a lemon, please."

"Of course," he nodded, leaving.

"What's that?" Freddie asked and I looked up at him. "You're smilin'. You should get his number."

"What? No," I shook my head.

"Why not? It'd be good for you to let go of Vincent."

"I just broke up with him. . . ."

"He didn't care," he shrugged, "I'm just sayin' but you don't have to listen to me. You could use some friends."

I nodded but didn't comment. The reminder that Vincent moved on so quickly made me sad. I had a strong craving for pickles and a salad. I didn't know why I was craving pickles. It was a very specific pickle though. The spears from Hooters when you order a burger. It's slightly warm and salty but not too much. When Kyle came back, I ordered a Caprese salad and asked if he had any pickles. He laughed but said he'd arrange for some.