Reading Lips. Claudia Sternbach

And when my sisters look at the giant menus, my mom helps them choose. But I want to order myself. I choose lobster. The tails. Because Ma says she thinks I would do better with just the tails.

      It’s dark in the restaurant. There are candles on the tables. And you can hear the rain on the roof. There is even a leak. It drips right by the people next to us. I think it is funny. To have water leaking in your restaurant and have a big canoe all ready if you need it. Mr. Trader Vic is no dummy.

      My mom is helping my little sisters. My dad keeps asking the very dumb how-is-school question, and the rest of the time we are quiet. And then a waiter brings me a special dessert with coconut and a candle, and more waiters come and sing happy birthday to me.

      And then it is time to leave. We drive in the hard rain. And we get to our house and my dad helps my sisters get out and kisses them good-night. And then he kisses me and tells me happy birthday. And his voice sounds kind of funny.

      When my mom comes in to tell us all good-night after we took turns in the bathroom brushing our teeth she reminds us to say our prayers. But we always do. We never forget.

      “God bless Mommy, Daddy, Claudie, Carol and Cheryl, and all who are dear to us. Amen.”