The wife and her parents did not get up to join the husband. They sat and whispered. The wife nodded and wiped her eyes. From time to time, the wife’s eyes would meet the server’s and she would smile. The server liked this. Two times, as she passed the server on her way to the restroom, she placed a hand on the server’s shoulder, thanking the server for such caring service.

A table cleared of plates spurred questions about dessert. The wife looked down, or away, or up at the ceiling. The server sensed she wanted to be finished with this business involving her parents and friends, who were making plans for a visit to the casino outside of town.

Having long ago established who would pay the bill, the server approached the husband for the first and only time. The husband paid in cash, dessert forgotten. Many joined the husband for a final drink. Outside, the wind carried clouds over the sun, moving the day in and out of focus. The front door of the restaurant creaked open and closed as grievers departed. Those remaining pooled around vacant tables all over the restaurant.

She put a hand on the server’s stomach from behind. The server turned. Again, the wife thanked the server for the caring service. Then she pulled the server against her body. The server reciprocated, uncertain and giddy. As their embrace continued, the server became worried. But no one seemed to notice them.

The wife kissed the server’s neck. Her body moved in a way that felt impossible. Bursts of sunlight turned the tables near the windows into beating hearts. The server’s legs began to tremble against a tray, the water glasses placed close together responded with melodic singing. The server watched the husband lean over the bar and whisper into the bartender’s ear. She nodded, wrote on a slip of paper, and handed it to him. The husband took her hand and kissed it. The boy stared up from his dark circles in the middle of dead grass.