I Asked the Waiter to Split the Check

the forks where the spoons should go. Sophie made a sign for the front door with markers that bled through the cardstock.

WELCOME GRANDMA.

No apostrophe. Nobody cared.

Dad didn’t come by.

He called her six times that first weekend. Then less. Then only when he wanted to say she was being influenced by me. As if basic dignity was catching.

The first time continue reading …