She stared at the foam cup in her hands, the milkshake had long since melted, the whipped cream sinking into the mix. She had been sitting there for about an hour, her eyes unfocused.
She had ran what she was going to say over and over in her mind all last night, but now could not remember a word of it.
She had felt scared, nervous, and restless all last night, but now felt nothing.
The waiter had asked her earlier if anything was wrong with her order, as she had sat for so long without touching it, but now left her to her thoughts as the day was slow and so there was no real need for the table.
Her eyes finally left the melted beverage and landed on her wrist.
Ten minutes until he would arrive.
She looked through the window towards the light traffic.
It had been ten years since she had seen him last.
Would he really have changed during that time?
He was violent, posessive, and quick-tempered. Nothing her mother ever did would satisfy him.
He drank.
Yes, he drank too much. And every night he came home with that look in his eyes she was struck with the fear of whether that night was her mother's last.
They had escaped from his hold.
Had left and started new lives.
But the damage to her mother was done.
She had suffered too many wounds, too many scars, that her body physically and mentally shut down.
No doctor, no therapist, could save her.
That was three years ago.
And now he had found her again.
A changed man, so he said.
He had his share of rough times when she and her mother left.
But he fixed himself up.
Made a good man out of himself.
A man worthy to be her father, so he said.
She somehow agreed to meet him.
Meet him at this dinner, on this day, in just a few minutes.
She didn't know what to hope for, if she should hope for anything.
She closed her eyes and bowed her head, breathing deeply.
A small bell rang through the silence as the door of the dinner opened.
As footsteps approached, she opened her eyes.
Right on time.
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