Page 26 of After We Fall

I unroll the silverware from the napkin. “I think we have everything we need. Thank you.”

The boy’s shoulders slump, and he trudges to the front of the restaurant.

While I smooth the napkin across my lap, Luke reaches over and slides my fork and knife away from me.

I snap my head up. “What are you doing?”

“No silverware allowed.” He gathers both of our sets and drops them on the tray of a passing busboy.

“What? You didn’t state that rule at the beginning.”

“Would you have ordered differently if you’d known?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to get you a bib? The sauce tastes good, but it probably won’t wear as well on your fancy sweater.”

I glance down at my ivory cashmere top. Not an ideal choice for this meal. I gingerly pull my sleeves up a few inches, then lean in just a touch to inspect my plate. I pick up my hoagie, causing sauce and varying chunks of meat to slip out the back. Then I stretch my jaws to capacity and sink my teeth into my lunch.

With each chew, the flavors of heaven fill my senses. I close my eyes and moan. Somewhere, my vegetarian mother is rolling over in her grave. I offer her a mental apology, and the precise moment there is more space for food in my mouth, I take another bite.

I return the sandwich to the paper plate, pick up my water, and guide the straw between my lips. But with one glance at Luke, I freeze.

His lips twitch. “Should I let you and that sandwich have a nice, cozy lunch together? I can just do some background research on you to fill in the gaps I don’t know.”

“You’re the one who issued the challenge to eat the thing. I’m just delivering on that challenge.” I place my cup on the table. Using my napkin, I dab at the corners of my mouth. I’ll give him just enough information to satisfy his curiosity, things he could find out on his own—that way I won’t infringe on my own privacy. I’ll scatter a few pieces of my history. He’ll never know the picture they paint is incomplete. “I’m afraid you won’t get far researching my past. My records are sealed.”

Luke’s eyes flash, but the rest of him stays stock-still. “Are you safe?”

“It’s nothing that dramatic, Luke. My mom died when I was twelve. I was placed in the California foster care system and lived in several temporary settings until a family adopted me.”

He waits a beat, his eyes narrowing. “That doesn’t sound like it’s without drama.”

“I was well provided for. My circumstances allowed me to attend college. I had jobs here and there and landed in Colorado Springs.” I shrug. “It’s pretty simple.” Leaning over my plate, I take another bite of my sandwich.

His actions mirror mine. “You are anything but simple,” he says between chomps.

Maybe. But he won’t be around long enough to know for sure.

For a few minutes, we eat in silence, the playfulness of the meal lost in the unasked questions.

After several mammoth bites, Luke sits back and gulps down some of his drink. “You didn’t say anything about your father.”

With just those seven words, my appetite deserts me. This sharing thing isn’t working out for me as well as I hoped. For the sake of getting through this conversation, I need to isolate my feelings and focus on the facts. I set my sandwich down and push my plate away. “I don’t think he’s worth mentioning. He left my mother and me just after I was born.”

Luke grinds his teeth, causing the muscles in his cheeks to jerk. “I’m sorry.” Those two words seem to carry more weight than just his sympathy.

“My mother, Caroline Reid, was from a small town in Oklahoma. Her family lived almost at the poverty level. Poorer than dirt, she used to say. She met my father and fell madly in love.” I rattle off the basics of my family history as if reading a checklist. “She became pregnant, and his poet’s soul inspired him to take us to California. He uprooted us, dragged us across the country, then abandoned us when I was six months old. I haven’t heard from him since.”

Luke swipes his lips with his napkin. “Does he have a history with the law?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Probably a stretch, but is there any chance he’s come back to town and is trying to get your attention?”

“I can’t imagine he would even know where to find me.” Sitting back in my chair, I purse my lips, allowing time for the acidic wave in my stomach to pass. I don’t think of my father often. It serves no purpose.

Luke balls his napkin and throws it to the side. “Okay. What about your foster homes? Anyone worth looking into?”