Emily shifted in her seat, glancing at her son, Dean, who sat across from her, eyes glued to his phone. The warm glow of the restaurant’s lights cast a soft hue over the tablecloth, and the gentle hum of conversation filled the air. It had been ages since they’d shared a meal alone.
“This is nice,” she said, hopeful.
“Yeah, sure,” Dean muttered, barely looking up. He sighed. “I wish we weren’t near the bathroom, but, you know, with your wheelchair, they couldn’t seat us elsewhere.”
Emily bit her lip, ignoring the sting. “How’s college? Classes?”
Dean exhaled loudly. “It’s fine. Whatever.”
Emily forced a smile. She had practically begged him to come, bribing him with his late grandfather’s watch. Now, as he scrolled mindlessly, she wondered if it had been worth it.
Her fingers fumbled her glass, knocking it over. The crash silenced the room.
“For God’s sake, Mom!” Dean hissed. “Can’t you go one dinner without making a scene?”
Before she could respond, a firm voice cut through.
“Sit down.”
A middle-aged man, Mr. Harris, the owner, stepped forward. “I’d give anything for one more dinner with my mother. But she’s gone.”
Dean hesitated.
“She raised me alone, despite her condition, never complaining, always sacrificing. Thanks to her, I run this place.”
Silence hung between them. Dean swallowed hard, finally meeting his mother’s eyes.
