“Very well, then.” He angled toward Ellis. “And for you, sir. Would you care for a refill while you peruse the menu? A double perhaps.” No doubt he detected the need for one as a way to reduce the tension that had spiked since he’d presented the leather-bound menus. Specifically after Ellis’s father confirmed that the listed prices were in dollars.
“That’d be splendid.”
The waiter dashed off. Part of Ellis wanted to join him. He had to remind himself that his father was far outside his realm of comfort. That much was evident from how he kept tugging at his collar, fighting his tie like a noose.
You ever see me in that getup, means there’s been a funeral, he’d replied when asked by Ellis, as a kid, why he never wore suits like passersby on the street. If I ain’t paying my respects, I’ll be the one in the box.
The fact he was now wearing the one suit he owned, simple and black and solely on Ellis’s account, was a gesture not to be missed.
“I gotta say,” Ellis offered up, “you both sure look swell tonight.” He gestured with his teacup. “And that brooch looks beautiful on you, Ma.”
Beaming with pride, she patted the silver stemmed rose. “Thank you, Ellis.”
At his new flat in the Bronx, before they’d all walked to dinner, he’d pinned the gift to the plum cardigan layered over her matching dress. All the while, his father had moved stoically around the place—not a mansion by any stretch, but finally an apartment Ellis wasn’t embarrassed to show. He’d rushed to furnish it just days before their visit, despite their predictable decline to stay overnight.
His father was now surveying the club with the same unreadable gaze. “You eat like this all the time?”
To appease the man’s frugalness, Ellis was about to say no. But why lie? He’d proudly earned the money, one paycheck at a time.
“Once a week or so, I guess.”
“So you’ve already saved up for a new engine, huh?” There was no subtlety to the doubt in his tone.
“Actually,” Ellis said, “I’ve been wanting to tell you. I changed my mind on that.”
Confusion tightened his father’s features as he waited for an explanation.
“Just figured it was time to stop wasting dough on the old clunker and start fresh. Maybe get a new Ford Roadster. Buy it straight off the line.” This would mean no more mechanical help from his father, surely a relief to them both.
“A roadster,” his mother said, concerned. “Those are awfully speedy, aren’t they?”
“Not to fret, Ma. I won’t do anything foolish.”
His father huffed. It was a brief sound but sharp with condescension. Then he dropped his attention to his menu, scrutinizing the prices. Judging.
And right then it became painfully clear: since the start of their evening, he’d been doing nothing else.
Ellis simmered with frustration, yet he willed it not to rise. The night could still end up pleasant enough. Particularly with more gin.
He downed the rest of his cocktail, ready for that double. “So,” he said, picking up his menu. “What have we got here?”
In his periphery, he glimpsed a nearby cigarette girl who was scanning the club, waiting for buyers to signal their interest. Although neither parent was a smoker, Ellis had known his father to enjoy a rare cigar with pals from the plant.
Perhaps some puffs could mellow his mood. They certainly couldn’t hurt.
“Hey, miss!” Ellis raised his hand, his voice lost to the tide of conversations and notes of a sax. He was about to try again when his father muttered something indiscernible, but loud enough to convey derision.
Ellis turned to face him, just as his mother spoke in a firm hush. “Jim. Please.” As in, not here. Not tonight.
His father hedged before closing his mouth. He returned to the menu, his solid jaw twitching as if struggling to contain his words. None of them good. Undoubtedly all for Ellis.
“You got something to say, Pop?”
His father’s eyes snapped up, then quickly narrowed. He’d plainly caught the challenge in Ellis’s question.
His mother broke in lightly. “Let’s just decide on our meals, shall we?”
Ellis didn’t stray from his father’s hardening gaze. And why should he? He’d grown tired of remaining quiet, of backing down. The only time he wasn’t invisible, he was doing something wrong.
“Well, go on. I’m a man now. I can take it.”
His father shook his head, another dark laugh. “That’s what you think you are, huh? A man. Because you’ve