Putting stuff behind you...

It was the way they looked when they came in, their posture, their physical interactions with each other, which led me to think they were not exactly on good terms. So when I walked up to the table I tried not to be apprehensive as I rattled off my intro spiel.
“So, would you like something to drink while you look over the menu?”
The woman glumly shook her head no. The man looked as if he were about to order something, then said no thanks.

I returned after a while to take their orders. As I approached the table, I heard them talking.
“So, did you take her to this restaurant?” I overheard her say. The emphasis on the “her” left no doubt as to what that meant.
“No, of course not. Why would…”
His reply was cut off by my approach.

They ordered entrees only and as I was turning to leave he said, “Why don’t you bring a bottle of the house cabernet? Does that sound ok honey?”
“I don’t want anything,” she said.
I stood awkwardly as he looked at her. She refused to return his look.
“Should I bring the wine?” I asked. There is really nothing more uncomfortable than having to be an unintended observer to a situation like this.
“Yes, bring it.”

I returned with the wine, went through the rigmarole of wine service, then left. I brought two glasses, but noticed as I walked by later that her glass stayed dry.

The entrees were served and I checked to see how they were doing. I tried to stay away as they ate. Neither talked much. One time as I passed I saw her looking directly into his eyes as she said quietly, coldly even, “fuck you.”

They man finished his food; the lady still had a full plate. I knew, unfortunately, I would have to go to the table and start clearing it.
This time as I approached, they did not stop talking.
“I thought we put stuff behind us,” he was saying.
“I thought I could,” she said.
I stood for a moment or two, and cliché though it is, those moments seemed like an hour. Finally I reached for his plate and asked if I could take it. He motioned for me to take it.
“Are you still eating?” I asked her. “Or do you want me to box it up for you?
“Just take it. Throw it away.”
In my best fake happy voice I asked if they would like to see a dessert menu – I’m nothing if not professional.
The woman laughed, and for the first time her face lost the cloud that circled it the whole time.
“No. God no.” she laughingly replied.

I dropped the check, took their money and got a decent tip. As I cashed out the check I watched two people leave together and knew I wouldn’t be seeing them together again.