A Surprise Dinner
I hadn’t heard from my stepdaughter, Hyacinth, in what felt like forever. So, when she called and invited me to dinner, I thought this might finally be the chance to fix things between us.
But I had no idea what surprise awaited me at that restaurant.
My name is Rufus. I’m 50 years old, and my life has always been steady—maybe a little too steady. I work a quiet office job, live in a modest house, and spend my evenings reading or watching the news.
It’s a simple life, and I’ve grown comfortable with it. But there’s one thing that has always puzzled me: my relationship with Hyacinth.
Hyacinth is my stepdaughter. When I married her mother, Lilith, she was still a teenager. From the start, she kept her distance, and over time, I stopped trying to get close. Now that Lilith is gone, the gap between us feels like a huge canyon.
It had been over a year since I last heard from Hyacinth. So, when she called me out of the blue, her voice cheerful and bright, I was taken aback.
“Hey, Rufus,” she said, sounding excited. “How about dinner? There’s this new restaurant I’ve been dying to try.”
I was speechless for a moment. Hyacinth reaching out was rare—almost unheard of. Was she finally trying to reconnect? If so, I was all for it. I had spent years wishing for a little bit of family with her, even if it was just a small piece.
“Sure,” I said, feeling cautiously hopeful. “Just tell me when and where.”
The restaurant she picked was far fancier than my usual spots. With its dark wood tables, soft lighting, and waitstaff dressed to the nines, it felt sophisticated and a bit intimidating.
I felt slightly out of place, but when I arrived, Hyacinth was already there, looking polished and different. She smiled at me, but there was something strange behind her smile.
“Rufus! You made it!” she exclaimed, her voice a little too bright.
I sat across from her, trying to figure out how she was feeling. Something felt off. “How have you been?” I asked, hoping to start a real conversation.
“Good, good,” she said quickly, already looking at the menu. “How about you? Everything okay?”
“Same as always,” I replied, but I could tell she wasn’t really listening. Before I could ask more, she waved the waiter over.
“We’ll have the lobster,” she declared with a quick smile. “And maybe the steak too. What do you think?”
I blinked, surprised by her boldness. “Uh, sure, whatever you’d like.”
As the evening went on, her behavior became stranger. She kept glancing at her phone, giving short answers to my questions, and avoiding eye contact. It felt less like a dinner and more like a weird obligation.
“So,” I tried again, “it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’ve missed catching up with you.”
“Yeah,” she muttered, her focus still on her plate. “Been busy.”
Her answers felt like dead ends. Just as I was about to give up, the check arrived. I instinctively reached for it, but before I could pay, Hyacinth whispered something to the waiter and stood up abruptly.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, giving me another quick smile. “Just need to use the restroom.”
I watched her walk away, my stomach sinking. Something wasn’t right. Minutes passed. Then more minutes. She didn’t come back. The waiter stood by, waiting for me to pay, and with a sigh, I handed over my card.
The total made my jaw tighten—it was outrageously high. I paid and stood up, frustration bubbling inside me.
As I reached the exit, I heard a voice behind me.
“Rufus, wait!”
I turned, ready to express my irritation, but stopped short. There was Hyacinth, holding a huge cake and a bunch of colorful balloons. Her face lit up with a grin that looked both nervous and triumphant.
Before I could say anything, she blurted out, “You’re going to be a granddad!”
For a moment, I just stared at her, the words not fully sinking in. “A… granddad?” I repeated, completely dumbfounded.
She laughed, the balloons bobbing above her. “Yes! I wanted to surprise you!” She held up the cake, its white frosting decorated with “Congrats, Grandpa!” in blue and pink icing.
“You… planned this?” I asked, still trying to understand.
She nodded, her grin a little sheepish. “The waiter was in on it. I wanted to make it special, but I guess I made it more awkward than anything. I’m sorry if I worried you.”
I blinked, everything starting to make sense. Her nervous energy, the strange behavior—it was all for this surprise. A rush of warmth filled me, pushing away my earlier frustration.
“You’re serious?” I asked, my voice cracking a bit.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I know we haven’t always been close, Rufus, but I want you to be part of this. My life. The baby’s life.”
Her words hit me like a wave. All the years of distance and unspoken tension between us felt smaller now, less important.
I looked at the cake, then back at her, and suddenly it was hard to speak. My chest tightened with emotions I hadn’t allowed myself to feel for years.
“Hyacinth…” I began, but my voice faltered. Instead, I stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. She stiffened for a moment, then melted into it.
We walked out of the restaurant together, the balloons swaying in the cool night air.
“So,” I asked, a genuine smile spreading across my face, “when’s the big day?”
“Six months,” she said, grinning. “Plenty of time to prepare, Grandpa.”
I laughed, a lightness settling in my chest. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel like the distant stepdad. I felt like family.
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