Durnum Station Elijah Baranowski

Durnum Station Elijah Baranowski Pen & Ink

Daddy pauses. “Well, no. It’s just sort of rude. And not really true.”

“Daddy,” I say. I start tracing the letters of the words in the table with my finger. I know that the first one is T. “Why is Mommy so mad at you?”

Daddy frowns. “Look, Amelia, a waiter is coming over. Do you want to tell her your order, or should I?”

I continue tracing the letters. The next one is O, and the one after it is O as well, except it isn’t written nearly as nicely. “You can order for me,” I say.

The waiter comes over to our table and talks to Daddy. I trace the next letter on the table. There is a space between the second O and the L that I am tracing now. The waiter nods, and “mhm!”s along with what Daddy is saying. She takes our menus and leaves.

“I miss when you and Mommy used to both eat lunch with me,” I say, because Daddy is looking at me again.

“Me too, kiddo.”

“Could you talk to Mommy?” I trace the next letter. A.

Daddy frowns. “I don’t know about that one, Amelia.”

The letter after that is T. “But Mommy can be a good listener. She’s been trying really hard not to yell at me.”

“Your mother and I just had to go our separate ways.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

wwDaddy shakes his head. “Please let it go, Amelia.”

I don’t know what the last letter carved into the table is. It looks like a backward 3, but the lines aren’t curved or anything. I want to ask Daddy what it is, but I don’t think he’s in a very good mood right now.

The waiter comes back to the table with my grilled cheese, and whatever Daddy is eating. I take a bite of the sandwich. It’s really warm and crunchy, just the way I like it. The cheese oozes onto my fingers and makes them greasy. I lick my fingertips clean, enjoying every last bit of my lunch.