A Meal Without Permission
Inside Rosie’s Kitchen, an older waitress with silver hair led us to a booth by the window. Her name tag said Marlene. She looked at Noah’s empty plate, then Lily’s red eyes, then my face.
“Rough day?” she asked gently.
“Yes,” I said. “But we’re going to eat now.”
Noah ordered pancakes. Lily asked for chicken tenders. I ordered coffee and fries because I knew that if I tried to eat anything heavier, I would fall apart.
When the food came, Lily stared at it as if she needed permission first.
I smiled at her. “Eat, baby.”
She picked up a fry, then paused. “Will Grandma be mad?”
I reached across the table and held her hand.
“Grandma does not get a vote anymore.”
