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“That’s fine, Dad. You don’t have to be happy. You can be angry and upset. You can be disappointed. I deserve all those things. But don’t take this out on him. Jenner doesn’t deserve that.”

Just as my voice faded, our waitress returned to our table and said, “Are you ready to order your meals?” She noticed our untouched plates. “Or do you need a little more time?”

Without looking at me, my father replied, “I don’t think we’ll be eating. In fact, why don’t you box up all this food”—he nodded toward me—“so she can take it home?”

He reached into his pocket and removed his wallet and handed her his credit card. She took it and disappeared.

At the same time, we both glanced at Jenner’s card, sitting on the tablecloth between us. As I was about to pick it up, he did instead, slipping it into his wallet.

“I need some time, Joanna.” He drank the rest of his scotch. “I need to process this …”

“That’s fine,” I told him. “I get it.”

More silence began to beat away until the waitress returned wit