101- Wait a minute

I bite my lip to control my smile. I turn my face away from them both, but still sneakily try to meet his father’s gaze in the rear view mirror.
He is still watching me intently, and his gaze no longer looks so cold anymore. “Where are you from?” he asks.
I clear my throat. “Houston, sir.” “So what are you doing out here?”
“My sister lives here. I came visiting and found the job at FireEye, so I decided to stay.”
He continues to watch me but I’m not bold enough to hold that gaze, so I pull my eyes away and fix them on the road. Then I remember that I wanted to ask him if he had eaten. So I turn back around to face him, my heart beating a little too fast in my chest. “Do you want something to eat, sir?” I ask.
“You want to buy me a meal?” He asks.

I’m a bit stumped, as his tone is still somewhat harsh, so I’m not sure of the spirit in which the question is asked. “Um, of course, sir.”
“Alright then, let’s go. At least one person here as some manners.”
My eyes widen in shock at the outright snide, and I see a muscle twitch in Grady’s temple. Once again, I turn away to lower my head. I had expected their relationship to be much more hostile but more than anything, it seems as though his father is trying to get his attention, in the worst possible way.

e demands we go to IHOP.
I immediately wonder at the impact on his liver but of course, no appreciation or ear
will be given to me if I voice the concern so I keep my opinions to myself and just drive them to it.
I want to wait in the car so they both get what they want but when Blair turns around to see my intention, she hurries back.
“What are you doing? C’mon,” she says.
I shake my head. “Just get what you both want. I’ll wait here.”
She frowns at me. “I’m beginning to see what the problem is between you two. He’s trying to get your attention and you’re just proud enough to keep ignoring him.”
“What?” My face wrinkles. “What are you talking about?”
With a sigh, she pulls on the latch of the door. “Grady, get out of the car!” Her gaze is fixed on mine.
At the rare defiance in her expression, I decide to concede.
We head towards the blue roofed building together and just before she goes in, I stop her briefly to ask. “How are you able to communicate with him?”
“It’s easy,” she says with a smile as she pulls the door open for me to get through. “He’s not my dad, and I don't have an ego. Oh, and there’s one more thing that we have in common.”
My eyebrows arch in wait for her statement.
“We both have an innate desire to mock you, because no one else dares to.”

My automatic response to her is amusement, but then when I realize that my father is probably watching us, I school my expression and return to being stoic.
“Wow,” she says to me.
I ignore her. Soon, we are seated in a booth with Blair by my side and my father opposite her.
He really does look quite disheveled and battered and at the sunlight coming in through the window by his side, I can see just how sunken and exhausted he is. His gaze is the same one I’ve stared into for the past decade... almost blank and lifeless but I can’t help but notice that today, with his attention solely on Blair, he looks just a little bit... awake.
“What kind of pancakes do you like?” he asks her. “Hmm…" she peruses through the menu.
I think I already know what she is going to say. “The taco pancake-paco.”
For the first time in perhaps a decade, I watch a smile appear on his face. “We seem to have similar tastes.”
I set my gaze on hers and I’m sure she can feel it burning through her skin. Although I don’t say a word, it’s quite interesting to watch the dynamics between them both. The waitress comes to take our orders with the both of them ordering the same taco pancakes, while I order what I know she will actually like which is the sweet blueberry pancake.
The pancakes are delivered soon enough and we all begin our meal quietly. About halfway through however, my father suddenly speaks, “What's your name?” “I’m Blair Tatum, sir,” she replies.
At the mention of the name, something shadowy seems to pass across his graze. “Tatum?” he asks. She nods as she chews on her pancake. “Yes, sir.”
He lowers his head and continues with his food as though the name itself holds the key to every problem he has ever encountered.
I don't dwell too much on it, as I’m much more enthralled with seeing my father not act hostile for the first time in as long as I can remember.
Is it because he is exhausted? Or is it just because of Blair?

I turn to her, wondering what the connection is between them that has made him quite mellow or is it just because she’s a woman?
“I used to know a Tatum,” my father says, and then drains his bottle of water. “Simon Tatum. Great guy... but died young.”
The conversation is becoming gloomy, and since it’s beginning to drift towards his dark and unpleasant memories from his military service, I suspect that the somewhat peaceful camaraderie we have established is soon about to be extinguished.
“Simon? That was my father’s name!”
Both my father and I turn to Blair at the sudden announcement.
“How can your father’s name be Simon Tatum?” My father half growls at her. She is a bit taken aback.
I put my fork down, completely unwilling to tolerate any hostility whatsoever from him to her.
Both of their gazes are drawn to the clink of my fork on the plate, and then I feel her hand on my thigh. Her smile is bright and welcoming to him. “Life can have the strangest coincidences, sir.”
He stares at her long and hard, and then cocks his head. “Was your father by any chance a soldier?” I’m taken aback, and then I stare at her
Blair’s eyes are nearly popping out of the sockets. “Yes, he was… how do you- You served with him?”
For the first time in my entire life, an emotion creeps into my father’s eyes that I have never seen before. I’ve seen him angry, excited, and expressionless but what I have never seen in his eyes is pain.
He watches her tenderly, as though she is his own child, and then his eyes redden and fill with tears. Before those tears can drop however, he rises to his feet and walks out of the restaurant.
I’m thrown even more into a daze. Blair turns to me, completely confused.
I also can’t understand what is happening. Neither of us has much of an appetite to continue with our meals, so we both rise to our feet, pay the bill and exit the pancake shop. When I arrive at my parked vehicle and see that my father is not by it, I’m further worried.