expectation
[ek-spek-tey-shuh n]
noun
the act or the state of :
to wait in expectation.
an mental attitude:
a high pitch of expectation.
By the time I get back to the restaurant, it's past closing time, but Antonio and Maria had kept it open for us. Richard looks so relieved to see me, his face practically self-combusted with joy. I'm sure Sara sang the entire cast album of Annie to him, and I'm equally sure that Matty remained in the bathroom the entire time I was gone. If she has her phone with her, Matty could be alone in the middle of the Mojave Desert and be content, as long as there was strong Wi-Fi. Plus, Maria probably brought her enough Diet Coke and breadsticks to keep her satisfied.
"Look who's back," Richard beams.
"Lauren!" Sara claps.
"I've been thinking,...." I say.
"Yes?"
"Okay," I tell him.
"Okay?"
Matty arrives back at the table and asks, "What are we okaying?"
I gather up Sara and her things, and then look Richard in the eye. "You want to see us regularly?"
"Yes. I do. Very much."
"Hey, don't I get a say in this?" Matty asks.
"He's been sick and he's trying to get better," I tell her.
"He didn't have cancer! He made a choice to drink and disappear for two years!"
"Don't be sad, Matty," Sara says.
"I'm not sad, Sara. I'm mad."
Richard steps in. "Matty, I get that you're mad—"
"Oh. Do you? Do you get that?"
I start for the door with Sara in my arms and Matty right behind me.
I look back at Richard. "We'll see you here next week."
"This is bullshit," Matty grumbles.
Richard's face wears the look of heartsick worry and I have to fight off the urge to run to him, hug him, and tell him that everything's going to be okay. Instead, I put Sara down and instruct her, "Sara, go say goodbye."
She runs to Richard and he joyfully sweeps her up into his arms.
"Goodbye," she tells him.
"Oh, goodbye, sweetheart." He hugs Sara tightly, then places her back down. She's about to run back to me, but she has a sudden thought and turns back to Richard. She tugs on his pant leg for him to come down to her level.
He kneels down and she loudly whispers into his ear, "Who are you?"
If I could see through Richard's skin, I'm certain I would have witnessed the collapse of everything inside of him, fall and wither into a giant heap of sorrow.
"I'm Daddy," he tells her, his voice shaking.
Sara crinkles up her nose in confusion and runs back to me.
Even Matty looks like she might take pity on the man in this one moment. She stares at him, but says nothing. We all watch him walk out the front door. After a moment, Maria comes by with the keys, ready to lock up for the night.
"He really does mean well," she tells me.
I want to tell her that it isn't enough to mean well. That people need to do well. But then I think how no one wants to hear life wisdom from a seventeen-year-old, so I just smile and say, "Thanks."
Then I want to punch myself in the face for thanking her.