The 12-year-old girl looks up briefly from the intoxicating blue light of her cell phone to glance at her father. She had quickly taken in the sight of his bald patch at her last glance, his head was bent down closely to the screen of his own phone because he didn't want to put on his glasses. But now his phone is down, he is looking up at their waitress with a smirk on his face as he makes a joke about the beer list. She isn't sure exactly why, but something about that smirk makes her want to smack him in the mouth, preferably in view of the pretty blond waitress. She does't make eye contact with the woman as she orders her orange soda and mac&cheese.
The restaurant is fairly busy and it makes it hard for her to concentrate on her phone as she scrolls down to answer a text from one of her friends. She and her father are content with their own devises. She was happy to read his text earlier that they would be going out for dinner after he picked her up from school.
Minutes later, while still waiting for their food, her world comes crashing down around her. Her father has calmly put down his phone, she noticed with resentment when he bought it that it had more applications than hers, and informed her that there are errands to be run and she will be missing the next episode of American Idol. Tears sting her eyes as she takes in his calm face and relaxed posture. How could he expect her to miss the show? Doesn't he understand that all anyone will be talking about at school the next day is the horrible auditions? Does he think there is immediate free streaming on her phone? She can feel the eyes of other diners on her as her as her voice gets louder and begins to shake. But the more her father cautions her to calm down, the angrier she becomes. It is not until her father promises to do whatever he has to to insure that TiVo captures the episode and that she will be able to watch it as soon as possible that she is able to breath again.
Taking deep breaths, they put their phones aside to eat their food. Once the waitress has left again, the smirk reappeared and she bends her head to her food to ignore it, she smiles and tells her father about her friends. She feels like a walking Facebook feed as she explains who is dating whom.
Years from now, she will text her parents pictures of her new baby girl. Her father will email her back a string of sentimental memories that he has stored up in his hard-drive; the text she sent from her seat during graduation, the forward of the text that her husband sent her when he proposed, the pictures she tweeted during her wedding reception, the ultrasound picture she sent to inform him that she was pregnant. She wont remember that meal that they shared at the small restaurant, it was just one of many nights where she listened to her father flirt with a young waitress in between the clicks of the small computer in her hand.
She will look up from her computer screen where she is e-mailing her children to remind them to come home right from school for dinner and think of how happy she is and how much she loves them. She will smile as she shoots off a quick "ily" to her father to thank him for everything he has done for her.
