“Please cancel my part of the bill.”
He hesitated.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
Then I walked outside.
I loosened my tie and sat on a bench beneath a storefront clock.
6:44 p.m.
My phone started vibrating almost immediately.
Mia:
Don’t be dramatic. Come back.
Zach:
Don’t make this about you.
Then Mom:
Please don’t ruin this night for us.
I stared at the messages.
Not one said sorry.
Not one said they should have saved me a seat.
Somehow, their disrespect had already become my behavior problem.
A week later, Mia showed up at my apartment with a Frappuccino in her hand.
She leaned against my kitchen counter.
“So, are you finished being dramatic?”
I stared at her.
“You gave away my seat.”
“It was just a seating issue.”
“To your boyfriend.”
“We thought you might bring someone.”
“I told Mom two months ago that relationship was over.”
Mia waved her hand dismissively.
“Nobody keeps up with your dating life.”
At my parents’ 30th anniversary dinner, I arrived in a suit and tie expecting to celebrate with my family. Instead, I discovered that my seat had been given to my sister’s new boyfriend.
