He watched me eat for a minute or two, before he said, “You enjoy movies.”
I wiped my mouth on a napkin and took a drink of wine. “What would make you think that?”
“It is true, no?”
“Kind of…”
“You make it sound like it is a question.”
“I do like them, some of them, but I have no idea how you would know that.”
He touched his temple. “I have an excellent memory when it comes to what interests me,uccellino selvatico. This is not the first time you brought up a movie.”
True. He had me there. I wasn’t used to people remembering everything I did, like I was as fascinating as a new species of bug.
I set my fork down. “I didn’t notice it until you just pointed it out, but I do compare my life to them, sometimes.” I squeezed the napkin as hard as my heart was being squeezed. “My mom…she used to watch a lot of TV, when she wasn’t singing. She’d watch TV and dream, I guess.”
“Do you know what she dreamed of?” He asked. It seemed like he wanted to keep me talking.
“A life bigger than what she had, maybe? Or just a different one. I don’t really know.”
“I am sorry for your loss,uccellino selvatico.I am sure you miss her.”
“Miss her? As in…?” My heart started beating harder than it did when I’d felt weak. Maybe he knew something I didn’t about her.
“She is gone, no?”
“Gone as in…?”
“No longer here with you.”
“Dead? Are you saying dead?”
He took my hand and squeezed. “I assumed that she was. Is she not?”
“Why would you assume that?” I slipped my hand from his.
He studied me for a second in that calculating way of his. “Your face clouds over when you speak of her. As if the memories are too painful for you.”
I took a deep gulp of wine and then a deep breath. “I don’t know if she’s living or dead. She left when my sister and I were just kids. I think…Sonny, my sperm donor, ran her off. She left without saying goodbye.” I held a hand up. “I don’t want to know. I could have found her if I wanted, but…”
“I understand.”
Two words.I understand.I breathed a sigh of relief at that. If my mom was dead, I couldn’t face it, not knowing what her life had been like after she’d left. Not knowing why she’d left us.
Lucila said it should be the opposite way around, mom should have been worrying about us, but I couldn’t help but think of her in this big world, maybe without anyone to turn to, too scared to come back home.
I smiled at him. “You’re not eating. We’re supposed to be sharing.”
He leaned forward and traced my lips with his thumb. He said something in Italian, something soft and melodic sounding. Then he said in English, “I am good.” He motioned to the delicious spread. “Eat until you are full,uccellino selvatico. I will eat after.”
How pathetic was this, but… “That’s the nicest thing…the nicest thing any man has ever done for me. I mean, you’re not eating to make sure I have enough.” It felt like someone covering me with a blanket. It showed he cared.
“You have been dealing with boys,” he said. “I am a man.”
And there was a fucking difference.
“Still…” I rolled some pasta up on my fork. “Eat with me?” I offered him the bite and he took it.
