Elizabeth knew he wouldn’t leave unless she at least sat down and talked to him. She already had two of the other waitresses come out and tell him that she was busy working on the cash drawers so he’d have to come back at a later time. He didn’t leave. Of course, Effie expected that of her father. She got her stubbornness from him after all.
“Eff he’s not leaving…” came the voice of the third waitress she sent out, Effie’s fingers busy taking a cigarette out of the pack she had sitting on the tiny desk in front of her. The restaurant was closed now for over twenty minutes and if she had any hope of getting back to the dorms to study for her exam tomorrow she’d have to get the girls to clean up and finish ordering supplies and food by 11. With her father showing up out of nowhere after five years, this didn’t look like it was going to be a possibility.
Grabbing her lighter angrily from her apron, she lit that cigarette up and got to her feet. Pushing through the swinging doors, into the dining area, she immediately saw him sitting there. He had definitely aged since she last saw him. Moving from place to place to keep people from finding out what you do can certainly take its toll on a person. That much was apparent. “Dad, what are you doing here? My girls told you that I’m busy and you’re keeping them from doing their fucking job—”
Elizabeth saw that her workers were looking at her from the tone she had taken, and she ran a hand through her messy blonde hair, sighing. “Look—you should have called. I got a lot of fucking paperwork to do—I gotta get this food order in by midnight or it won’t get delivered and I have an exam in my philosophy of law class…”
Popping an olive-pierced toothpick into his mouth, he swallows thickly at the voice of a familiar reprimand. She always had a mouth. Dropping the toothpick back into a disrespectfully watered-down martini, the MD locks eyes with his daughter for the first time in years. And what a sight. She struck him as one of the big cats; unpredictable, refined, and finicky. Only willing to tolerate to the extent of her indifference. Running a hand down his unshaven jaw, eyes lower to his untouched drink and an inaudible scoff escapes him. It's difficult to resist the little lilt of a condescending smirk that would surely send her high-tailing it in the other direction. Except that’s not why he’s here. If she knows him like she should, there is nothing malevolent in his cold, faraway gaze. Truth is, he's MISSED her. Bit her first mistake was assuming this is his first time frequenting this rundown bistro, with its flickering light fixtures yellowed with age, and the aroma of that culinary Hindenburg frying in the kitchen. It is merely the first visit among a handful. Flesh and blood is a bond that can’t be broken.
The nosy hovering girls in the background, chattering among themselves like titmice receive little more than a passing glance. His interest is focused solely on the wan girl peering back at him with his own eyes.
"I'm disappointed. A college education yet your vocabulary remains stunted. Profanity aside, I see you still have enough respect to refer to me as your father. Besides, you and I know both know that if I'd called...you wouldn't have answered," he retorts placidly, plucking a still burning cigarette from the ashtray between them and taking a quick drag. "I realize I'm the last person you want to see—as our separation wasn't exactly on the most AGREEABLE terms—but I'm willing to let the past be past if you are. Fact, I'd suggest you don't pretend you're not struggling with..." A pause; frowning and discomforted as white smoke seeps from his lips, the other hand gestures vaguely at their surroundings, "... whatever ATTEMPT at a living you might call this.” Smoking used to relax him; now his chest is tight, like a brick sits upon it at every hour of the day. “I can help you."
