Deaf and Dealing with Bêtise at the Bistro

The hostess seats us at our regular table
returns and chats with my husband
does not look at me
turns the back of her shoulder toward me 
ever so slightly no one else will notice the dis’
does not allow me to read her lips
something she knows I require 
no end to her chatter—unbothered 
she interrupts our dinner date
When my husband turns his gaze toward me 
and says, “She’s talking about…” she grimaces 
shifts her weight as if a stray pebble 
has crept inside her shoe.

I abruptly leave my seat and split
for the sacred space of the restroom
savor the silence and a hint of fragrance
return to our table and grouse to my spouse
He catches my eye and nods
when she hands him the dessert menu
with a side glance toward me
asks him what he would like
Nothing, he says
Nothing, I add, unasked