Act Your Age Ch 13 Pt 2/2 - Out to Eat

Out of habit I took my phone from my pocket as we sat down at the dinner table.  My new haircut and clothes felt strange to me.  Grant seemed to be distracted by the restaurant, the menu, and we hadn’t talked for a while so I just thought I’d pass the time.  I thumbed through my programs and found a game I liked so I started it.  My eyes were on the screen when the waitress came to our table.  I didn’t even look up.

“What will it be?”

“I’ll have a cola,” I said.  “I don’t care which brand.”

“And for you?”

“I’ll have a coffee,” he said.  “Thank you.”

She walked away and I heard him clear his throat, but I didn’t look up.  I continued with my game even when she returned though I could see out of the corner of my eye that she was setting down both drinks.  I heard him say, “thank you” and I echoed the sentiments.  She paused a moment but he signaled to her that we needed more time.

“That was very rude,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“You were rude to the waitress,” he said.

I paused the game and looked over at him.  I could tell he was serious so I looked for the waitress.  Had she been there I would have apologized and thanked her more sincerely but she was gone.  I looked back to him as he picked up the menu, but when he seemed distracted again I returned to my game.

“Do you know what you’re having?” he asked.

“Just a burger and fries,” I said.

He didn’t respond and my score was getting higher so I focused my energy on the game.  Finally he closed the menu and sat back, drank from his coffee, then put it back down.  I thought to drink from my soda but didn’t want to pause again.  I felt him begin to stare at me and I thought about my parents who got annoyed with me always playing some game and I thought to stop, put it away, and apologize but it felt too good to be lost in that digital world and I didn’t like the idea of passing the time.  I didn’t like small talk and idle conversation.

“Do you feel up for dessert?” he asked.  “They have a sundae here that looks pretty good.”

“That’s just the advertisement,” I said.  It felt like I was talking to my parents and the next words out of my mouth were what I would have said to them, not what I should have said to him.  “Don’t bother me, I’ve got a really high score.”

I regretted the words right after I spoke them so I apologized but continued to play.  He crossed his arms and I thought about stopping but I didn’t want to concede, not now, not over this.  When the waitress returned he sat up but I stayed focused.

“I’ll have the steak salad.  He’ll have the hamburger and fries with a side of Ranch dressing.  And can we get some chicken wings for an appetizer?”

“Mild or hot?” she asked.

“Hot,” he said.

“If that’s everything just let me go place your order.  You shouldn’t have long to wait for the appetizers.  I’ll be back shortly.”

“Thank you,” he said.

She walked away and he took another sip from his coffee before setting it back down.  This time he leaned across the table to me.  I knew it was serious.  I felt a jolt in the middle of my spine that struck out into my gut and I could feel it clench.

“When we get home you have a lesson to learn about some manners,” he said.

I paused the game and looked at him.  He was serious.  I knew exactly how he would teach me that lesson.  My ass clenched, the chair felt more solid, but everything else was flying away from me in all directions until there were just his eyes, steady in a mask of seriousness.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry.  I was just playing my game.”

“Too late,” he said.

“Aw, come on,” I said.

He shook his head and leaned back.  It was over.  I knew what was going to happen when we left the restaurant.  I knew what was going to happen when we got home.  I turned off the game and set my phone down on the table.  I looked to make sure no one else was around, especially the waitress.

“Can we talk about this?” I asked.

“You don’t want to talk,” he said.  “You’d rather be playing that game.”

I looked to it.  Even at that point it was still appealing, some escape from what I was feeling, some escape from my future, but I stopped myself from picking it back up.

“Look I was just distracting myself.  It’s so boring and I knew you’d order for me.”

“That’s a poor excuse,” he said.  “You were rude to the waitress.  You didn’t even thank her the last time she was at the table.”  He paused when she got close and asked if everything was all right, which he said it was as he looked to her, but then returned his gaze to me.  “She’s not someone to ignore.  She works hard and she doesn’t deserve the way you treated her.”

“I’ll apologize,” I said.

“What about me?” he asked.

I looked to the game.

“I’ll put it away,” I said.

“Too late,” he said.

He reached across the table and picked up my phone.  I tried to stop him but wasn’t quick enough.  I watched him turn it off, then put it in his pocket.  It was my phone.  I paid for it myself, well my parents had anyway.  I wanted it back.  I wanted the game back.  I looked around to see if anyone else had seen what he did, but no one was paying attention to us.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “but I need my phone back.”

“I’ll give it to you at the end of the night,” he said.

“That’s not fair.  It’s mine.”

“And you were being rude,” he replied.

“Just give it back,” I said.

“No,” he said.

I sat back and crossed my arms.  I knew I was only making it worse for myself but I was angry, and worse I knew there was nothing I could do about it.  I knew he was right but I didn’t like the feeling.  He could be very thorough with his punishment, at least a spanking, maybe wash out my mouth.  I began to pout though I worried I was only raising the stakes.  Did I just elevate from over the knee with the hand to something else?  Would he use the brush or worse?  Would I get the belt?

We waited like that until she came with the chicken wings.  The smell of them instantly reminded me of how hungry I was and when she set them down in the middle of the table with two plates it felt like it was bringing us back together.  I knew he had ordered them for the both of us but something in me made me want to resist.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Everything is fine,” he said.

“Do you want other types of dressing?”

“No, this is fine,” he answered.

“Well, enjoy,” she said before leaving.

“Sit up and have a chicken wing,” he said.

“No,” I replied.  I regretted that it made me sound petty.

I watched him put a few wings on his plate, then begin to eat.  The wings looked delicious and they smelled great but thinking about being punished later made me not want to participate.  I looked away.

“Are you going to give me the silent treatment?”

I didn’t answer.

“You have what you have coming anyway.  You might as well enjoy the food.  Come on, sit up and eat something.”

I looked to him.  It felt as if he was pleading with me now.  I decided to take pity on him and sat up, took a wing and cup of dressing.  There were lots of other people around us talking.  Their ambient sound somehow made me forget for a moment so I started eating, but maybe it was just to blend in with them, not signify to them something was wrong.  We split the bowl and cleaned our fingers with naps that had been left for us.  It wasn’t long after that our entrees arrived.

Half way through the burger, as I was feeling full, I remembered that as pleasant as it was there was still going to be pain afterwards.  I might forget.  I might even convince myself that I could get him to forget but I knew he wouldn’t.  I could take him out drinking.  I could tell him my life story until he was bored, but it wouldn’t be enough.  We’d still be in that room.  He’d still sit on that chair.  I’d still be over his lap with my pants and underwear down around my ankles.

“Any dessert?” she asked.

“I’ll have the sundae.  Maybe I can talk him into a few bites,” he said.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

He began to eat.  I wanted that sugary taste, just a little to ease my stomach.  He saw my interest and pushed the extra spoon across the table.  I sat up again, took the spoon, then leaned over the table to the dish as he offered it.  I took a spoonful, put it in my mouth, but suddenly it tasted bitter instead of sweet.  Despite the feeling I cleaned the spoon, set it back down and motioned I didn’t want anymore.

“Don’t like it?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

I crossed my arms.  My ass still burned and I worried it was only going to get worse.