The arguing part of me had gone quiet.

What was left was simply the waiting, patient and almost pleasant, for the moment I had already chosen to arrive on its own schedule.

The moment arrived when the main courses were cleared and the dessert menus came around, and the ordering started up again from the top, because of course it did.

My father-in-law wanted the artisanal cheese board and the chocolate souffle and a glass of the fifty-year port.

My brother-in-law wanted the souffle too, and three espresso martinis for the table, and the server keyed it all in, and I watched the number climb past two thousand dollars in my head, and I knew it was time.