*****
“Belissima, Ava!” Gina, the owner, cried as she welcomed me with open arms. “I have not seen you all school year! Where are you hiding yourself these days?”
“I’ve been…um…busy,” I smiled. “Gina, this is Brian. Brian, this is Gina.”
“Ah, bella, this explains why you’re so busy,” Gina smiled knowingly and winked.
“Gina! No!” I laughed. “He’s not the reason why!”
“Well, shame, bellissima,” the older woman pouted. “I was hoping that you’d finally replaced that good-for-nothing loser you used to come in here with! But it’s nice to meet you, Brian. You’re welcome here anytime!”
Gina chatted about her daughters and the restaurant as she escorted us to a table tucked back in a far corner, then winked at me and left us to enjoy our meal.
“How do you know her?” Brian asked as he picked up the menu and began examining its offerings.
“I’ve known her since I was a small child,” I explained. “She owned a restaurant around the corner from my parents’ brownstone, and we used to walk over for dinner or gelato on hot summer nights. Gina always exclaimed, ‘Bellissima!’ when she spied me, so it became a tradition. The restaurant was a success and when her kids got older, she started opening up new locations. Then her youngest daughter, Gabby, got in to the university, and Gina decided to move here and open another place. Gabby always said it was because her mother wanted to keep an eye on her, but Gina insisted that she liked the pace of a smaller town. Anyway…”
Across the table, Brian continued to examine the menu as he nodded and mumbled, “Mmm hmm,” and “I see.” I wasn’t sure he was actually listening to me, so I stopped talking and looked down at the menu. I already knew what I wanted, a big plate of Gina’s homemade spaghetti topped with three huge meatballs. It was comfort food, but I had never ordered it when I came in with Dominic. He hadn’t approved of my non-vegetarian status, so I had always tried to appease him by ordering the Pasta Primavera or some all-vegetable creation. I cringed as I recalled the way in which I used to look over at him for approval after I’d placed my order, and the way in which he’d always make slight changes telling the waiter, “Go light on the olive oil. She’s watching her calorie intake,” or “That’s good, Ava, but next time you might want to lay off the bread before we place our order.” Eating with Dominic became a field of emotional landmines, and after we’d been together a few months, I’d found myself trying to find ways to avoid having to go out to eat with him. I shook my head to clear the memories, looked up, and smiled.
“Have you decided what you’re going to have?” I asked too brightly.
“Are you okay?” Brian looked concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine, just…” I trailed off. “What are you having?”
“I think I’m going to go with your choice and have the spaghetti and meatballs,” he said, and then smiled a little. “That way if I don’t like it, it’ll be all your fault.”
“Oh no, that’s all on you, Mr. Flynn!” I laughed. “Freedom! Isn’t that what you military people fight for? The right to choose your own dinner?”
A dark look flitted across Brian’s face, and I knew I’d gone too far. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I didn’t mean—“
“No, it’s fine,” he replied. “It’s all good.”
Across the restaurant a loud clatter caused Brian to jerk his chair out, and pop up out of it anxiously, looking around. He scanned the place until he found the culprit; a clumsy busboy had dropped a basket full of silverware and was now on his knees cleaning up the mess. I watched with a concerned look on my face until he sat back down and faced me, one hand still under his hoodie holding the handle of his gun.
*****
For a few moments we sat in uncomfortable silence, then Brian asked, “So, what’s it like growing up so rich?”
“Well, it’s okay, I guess,” I didn’t know how to answer his question without sounding like I was pitying myself. I mean, who wants to hear about a poor little rich girl who feels ignored? “I don’t know. I got to do a lot of things, and I know I had a whole bunch of advantages.”
“But what about your parents?” he pushed. “I’m curious how that works because your dad seems like a pretty focused guy.”
“You have no idea,” I said as I rolled my eyes. “He’s single-minded when it comes to the family business and the family name.”
“Sounds like it was rough,” he noted.
“I don’t know, I spent a lot of time in boarding schools, so I wasn’t really around him or my mother much,” I tried to sound casual about it, but the pain seeped into my voice and I fought to eliminate it. “On the other hand, I got to see a whole lot of things that other people only dream about!”
“Like what?” he asked. “What did you get to see that was so wonderful, Ava?”
The tone of his voice caught me off guard. For a moment I couldn’t tell whether he was mocking me or being genuinely kind, but when I looked up into his eyes, I saw a softness and quickly looked down and began messing with the napkin in my lap as I fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. It was true that I’d had an easy upbringing in terms of financial support. I’d never wanted for a single thing, and, in fact, had sometimes had to turn down things that were given to me before I even knew that I might want them. I wasn’t high and mighty, I just knew that there was more to life than clothes and cars and champagne.
“I got to see great works of art when I was 14. My grandmother and I traveled to Europe for a few months and we saw them all. We saw the Louvre in France, the Vatican in Italy, the Prado in Spain, the National Gallery in London, the Guggenheim, and the Bodemuseum in Berlin,” I recalled with a smile, and then quietly added, “It was the most amazing trip I’ve ever taken, and the last one that my grandmother ever took.”
“What happened to her? If you don’t mind me asking,” he asked.
“Why do people always say that?” I looked up at him as I spoke. “Why do they ask if they can ask you a question after they’ve already asked it?”