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The dinner proceeds in a typical and uncomfortable fashion. Mr. Aarons and my father make negotiations with business lingo that is nearly indecipherable. Mrs. Aarons has receded into herself, only nodding her agreement when the men speak. Luke is holding my hand under the table; not in a possessive way or a demanding way. He’s just listening to the businessmen’s conversation, holding my hand. This is the way things used to be between us, years ago, when we first started seriously dating. Luke would always hold my hand or wrap an arm around me or kiss me just because he liked touching me. It’s little moments like these that let me know somewhere, lurking in the depths of his being, there is real love for me. And it’s little moments like these that cause me more pain than any sort of physical damage Luke could possibly inflict.
Once appetizers have been picked at, miniscule dinner entrees devoured, and napkins set atop plates, Mr. Aarons stands with a very charming, very schmoozing grin and announces a smoke break. My father and several suited men accompany him to the back porch. I am shocked when Luke jumps to his feet and follows them. Luke has a lot of flaws, but smoke makes him sick. As he shuffles out the glass-paned French door, Luke quickly glances back at me, forehead creased.
Mrs. Aarons beams at me from across the table, ignoring the few businessmen that decided to remain. I don’t get why she’s so happy-happy-joy-joy tonight. Usually she hides inside of her little shell until every last stranger has driven away. But all of a sudden she has emerged from it, eyes twinkling. The easy assumption would be that she’s drunk, but Mrs. Aarons never drinks. At least, not in front of others.
Nobody speaks, and I feel extraordinary awkward because Mrs. Aarons just keeps looking at me and grinning.
Call me queen of observation, but I think something is going on.
Several minutes later, the men file back into the dining room. Luke exchanges a look with my father and his. They return to their seats. Luke does not; instead, he approaches me. Any concern he may have been wearing earlier has vanished, replaced with a slight curve of his lips. Gazes cling to us from all around the table and the only thing I can do is swallow my wonderful What The Hell face and smile, like surprises from Luke are my favorite.
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