Just Another Child Living In The Shadows

I was having lunch at a rib joint in Plainfield when I noticed them come in.

A young man, twenty-something, with a cute little curly-haired brunette who must have been about five years old. They sat down about 20 feet away, at a corner booth close to the exit, near a window that looked out onto the parking lot.

The little girl reached down into the large brown grocery sack she had carried in with her and pulled out a doll and a coloring book. She sat next to dad and showed him some pictures she had been working on.

He had his left arm around her, and she was cuddled up against his chest, talking and pointing out details of special interest in the masterpiece she had been coloring.

Dad looked tired. He nodded and smiled, and while he seemed to be enjoying this father-daughter bonding, there was a strain in his expression that revealed he was not 100% in the moment.

When the waitress came to their table, she fussed over the little girl, who really was just as cute as a 5-year-old girl can be, and also was drawn into the discussion about the coloring book.

I didn't pay much attention to them after that, since I had a serious plate of ribs to devour, but after my meal I noticed that they were both looking out the window. Just then a red Dodge Charger pulled into the parking lot. Dad and daughter hugged, and he sat her down in the booth, and motioned for her to wait.

As he walked outside to the car, the woman driving it rolled down her window. He stopped a few feet away from the car and bent down to speak with her. Her left arm was gesturing impatiently through the open window, and he was holding his hands out, in a pleading gesture, making his case.

The little girl stood motionless in her booth, her back to me, her hands and face pressed against the glass, watching the discussion in the parking lot. The doll and coloring book were forgotten on the table.

What was she thinking as she watched mom and dad arguing outside? How much of her short life had she lived in the shadow of adult conflicts that she could never understand? How much time did she get to spend with her dad, and when would she see him again? What options for her life were being negotiated at that meeting, on that hot asphalt lot, by the two people she needed most in the world?

Finally the discussion was over. Dad walked slowly back into the restaurant. As he approched the booth, he looked sadly at the little girl and shook his head "no." Her shoulders slumped, but he quickly swooped her up and gave her a huge, rocking hug.

He stood there a bit, just hugging her. She was whispering something into his ear. Then he set her down. He bent down and kissed her forehead. She put her doll and coloring book back into the big brown bag.

Dad walked her out to the car, gave her one last hug, and then helped her get buckled into the back seat.

In an instant, the red Charger was gone.