Dilemma

Chapter 10

The steps leading up to the main entrance are made from stone, and create a soothing tapping sound when met with my high heels and his shoes. I notice a door in front of us. Its frame a deep red wood with a glass pane in the middle, allowing us to see the tightly packed restaurant filled with families, couples, even some people dining alone, suprising for a Saturday night. I lightly grip the golden door handle on the front of the entrance and twist it clockwise, allowing me to push the door open and walk in with Nate by my side. Walking in, I can see tables made from dark brown wood, most able to fit up to 8 people but only having 4, unsuprisingly occupied, seats. The seats are made from the same dark brown wood as the tables, but with a deep red cushion framed by the wood in the centre of the backrest.

Breaking me out of my gaze, a woman comes up to us. Her dirty blonde hair is in a tight bun, very badly clashing with her uniform of a crisp white shirt tucked into a black pencil skirt, and her black, 2 inch high heeled shoes.

"Hello, would you like a table?" Well, no. Carpet for 2 please, my inner sarcastic self thinks. She's only being nice and doing her job, but somehow I feel compelled to roll my eyes, only slightly though so that she can't see.

"We have a reservation under the name 'Rowland'." Nate steps in and informs the lady. She nods and takes an iPad from the counter I hadn't realised was directly infront of us now. After tapping a few buttons and scrolling through a couple of pages, she nods and moves her hand in a follow me motion. My anxiety grips me taut as Nate and I follow the woman, pairs of eyes burning into us like a lazer. The feeling is even worse for me considering my dress has cutouts on the sides by my waist; it feels like a constant bullet is being shot straight though me. We trail behind the woman along a brown carpet, with specs of gold and silver dotted around in no specific order. Our shoes remotely sink into the carpet, making a sinking feeling overrule my stomach.

We finally get to our table, after what seems like the most treacherous, daunting walk of my life. I never knew walking through a path could make me so anxious, but the feeling soon subsides as we take a seat and thank the woman for guiding us through the labyrinth of bodies.

The seats Nate and I sit on are different from the ones I have previously seen. Instead, ours have soft, red, velvet cushions on the backrest and the seat, held up by the same dark wood as the other chairs though. Around the 4 legs of the chairs there is a red, velvet curtain; making them look like thrones, and Nate and I like royalty, but I'm still curious as to why our seats are different. I don't like being different, I like being average. I don't like standing out from the crowd because it draws too much attention to you.

I pick up a laminated menu from between the cutlery pots and open it up. There are various options to choose from: ribs, chips, steak. However, I am drawn to the full rotisserie chicken with a portion of chips and a size of beef gravy. It was the meal I'd always have as a kid, so why not reminisce and let the memories cone flooding back. If only my one fondest memory could sit with me. I feel my eyes well up with tears, but I blink then away and sweep my thumb under my eyes.
"Are you okay?" Nate asks me, hus voice filled with a similar concern as in the limo.
"I'm fine. Excuse me for a a moment." I say as I stand up from my throne-like chair and walk into the girls bathroom. I remember this place's turns and rooms like the back if my hand, so it isn't difficult finding the bathroom. I storm into the luckily empty bathroom and look at myself in the mirror, my hands gripping the side of the sink to jeep me stable. I see my cheeks have gone beetroot, and my eyes are puffy. My cheek has an escaped tear rolling down it. I run into one of the many unoccupied stalls and reach for some tissue, before going back to the mirror and wiping my cheek, followed by my eyes and my now runny nose. I miss him so much, my dad. I can still remember his signature scent of peppermint and cigarette smoke. Even though he wasn't a heavy smoker, his breath still had a slight whiff of smoke. I remember how he'd always wear dark blue, denim jeans and a loose fitted, plain t-shirt, generally blue, black or grey. I remember how he'd snuggle up on the sofa and I'd rest my head on his heart whilst he would make up a story about a princess called Kacey. But there's one thing I don't remember, and that is his real name.
After composing myself and steadying my breathing, I walk out of the girls bathroom and catch a glimpse of someone sitting at a regular seat. He's wearing a loosely fitting, plain blue t-shirt and a pair of dark blue, denim jeans. I begin to walk closer and hear a voice I faintly remember. I am greeted by a vague smell of peppermint and cigarette smoke. It can't be, can it? I walk over to him and my heart almost beats out of my chest.
"Dad?"