The tension at the table
Marlene continued to talk.
— Some people don’t understand when it’s time to retire.
She swirled her glass of wine.
— And to stop being a burden.
The word was spoken gently.
But the target was obvious.
An uncomfortable silence followed.
I took a sip of water.
The water was cool.
Clear.
Simple.
Like me, apparently.
And it was at that moment that the kitchen door opened.
The arrival of the chief
A man in a white jacket appeared.
Big.
Serene.
He wiped his hands on his apron and looked around the room.
Then his eyes rested on me.
And her face lit up.
He immediately went over to our table.
The conversations around us slowed down slightly.
In this type of restaurant, visits from the chef are rare.
Marlene’s parents straightened their posture.
They probably thought they would receive a compliment on their order.
But when the chef arrived at our table, he didn’t look at anyone else.
Just me.
He placed a hand on the back of my chair.
And said softly:
— Madam… it has been too long.
All the forks stopped.
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