Until Love Do Us Part

by Anna Premoli

  Lydia took them both and smiled gracefully. “My dear young man, the best things in life are always the most expensive. Remember that.” And so saying, she turned and disappeared from view.

  Steffany, Amalia and Ryan took about forty minutes to tidy up the place where the party had been held and it soon began to look to look like a visiting room again.

  “What a shame – it looked so much nicer before,” Steffany admitted, almost sadly.

  “I’m sure you’ll have another party soon,” Amalia said, trying to cheer her up.

  “And new volunteers who will help you,” Ryan added.

  “Yes, fortunately. The number of people who have to do community service never ceases to amaze me,” said Steffany. “Even if there aren’t many like you two. I want to thank you with all my heart.”

  Amalia and Ryan shook everyone’s hands as they were leaving and while they were making their way to the exit ‘I Love You For Sentimental Reasons’ by Nat King Cole suddenly echoed around the room.

  Amalia paused for a moment to listen to the song before walking out into the cold and frost, for it always managed to lift her mood. Even in the most desperate occasions, like this one.

  “What a lovely song,” she said, mostly to herself. Ryan stared at her without another word.

  She then put on her hat and gloves and wrapped her scarf around herself, with the intention of taking the metro home. By now it was nearly eight o’clock on a Saturday night and the streets were filled with people going out for dinner.

  “Bye, Ryan,” she said with a quick nod, as she set off along the street.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, standing in front of her.

  “I’m going home. Where do you think I’m going?” she asked in astonishment, looking up at him.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked unexpectedly.

  “No, not really. I ate some sandwiches at the party,” she said.

  At this Ryan wasn’t really sure how to proceed. “Ah, ok. Good for you, then. But I haven’t eaten anything.”

  It was really too cold to stand there in the street talking about party food. Amalia wrapped her arms around herself. “Well, I’m really, really sorry, but I’m sure that even in Brooklyn there’s somewhere you can get something to eat. Luckily for you it’s the right time for dinner.”

  “And you’re not hungry?” he repeated.

  “Where am I, in some sort of parallel universe where my answers come bouncing back to me before you hear them?” she asked sarcastically. “I’m beginning to lose the thread of this ridiculous conversation.”

  Ryan sighed, annoyed at not being able to make himself understood. “You don’t need any particular kind of insight to understand what I’m saying… Do you want to have something to eat now?” he clarified.

  “With you?” she asked, not at all convinced that she had understood.

  “Yes, with me! Who the hell else?” he asked, almost offended.

  Amalia burst out laughing and carried on laughing for quite a while. She could hardly stop. “Oh my god! I swear, no one has ever invited me to dinner in such a horrible way.” When she had finally stopped laughing, she looked at him and tried to become serious again. “You don’t have to force yourself – I know you don’t really want to eat with me. But I appreciate the effort you made. Really.”

  Ryan stared at her, unsure whether to kiss her or strangle her. Usually he would have opted for the former, but that day he wasn’t quite himself and had little control over his decisions. Rationality, usually his strong point, had been supplanted by a weird feeling that prevented him from letting let her go. Even though doing so would have been a lot smarter, without a doubt. You didn’t need to be Einstein to figure that one out.

  “If I’m asking it’s because I want to have dinner with you,” he insisted.

  “No, you don’t. Believe me, you really don’t,” said Amalia, determined not to give in either.

  “Amalia, I want to have dinner with you,” he repeated, moving dangerously close to her and grabbing her by the arms. “And if you don’t agree, we’re going to end up freezing to death out here.”

  She pretended to think for a moment before admitting defeat. “Something’s wrong with you tonight,” she said. “Something very, very strange is going on in that empty head of yours.”

  He wasn’t offended by her remarks.

  “Yes, I know. So, about this dinner?”

  “Ok. But let’s make it quick and painless and then we can call it a day – a day never to be repeated.”

  He nodded seriously and took her arm, walking decisively for a few hundred yards, trying not to think too much about what he was doing. He took her to a small pizzeria with a dozen tables inside. It was pretty basic but it was also intimate, complete with lighted candles on each table. She stared at him dubiously.

  “They do a good pizza here according to Niel. Don’t worry, we can blow out the candle,” Ryan said promptly.

  They were taken to the most secluded corner of the room. Amalia sighed patiently – clearly, karma was not on her side that day. And predictably, they had to leave the candle burning to avoid having to eat in the dark.

  Amalia ordered a margherita pizza while he chose a double cheese with onion, peppers and pepperoni. She shivered at the thought.

  “That is what I call a ‘no-kiss’ pizza,” Amalia said, and laughed at his scowling face.

  “What are you talking about?” asked Ryan, knowing full well what her expression meant.

  “In a way it’s genius – you’re implicitly telling me that you have forced me to come to dinner with you but that you would never dream of kissing me. Brilliant, no doubt about it. I really don’t know what to say,” Amalia congratulated him, feeling slightly amused.

  Ryan almost passed out – he was so used to not kissing anyone that he hadn’t thought about the consequences of what he had ordered.

  Onions! It was obvious that Amalia would want to keep her distance from him.

  It was obvious too that he had no intention of kissing her – or rather, it was absolutely necessary that he didn’t kiss her, either that night or any other night, but realizing that the possibility had been eliminated anyway by his having ordered a pizza with onions, he suddenly felt himself sinking into an abyss. Because the truth was that he wanted to kiss her and if she hadn’t pulled back that afternoon he might have already done so. He was making a huge mistake.

  So should he call the waiter back and make a total fool of himself, or just keep quiet, eat his damn pizza and end up looking like an idiot anyway? Because as he saw it, it was a total lose-lose situation – he was going to lose face either way.

  “I’m not used to this type of stuff any more,” he revealed, despite himself.

  “Oh, you don’t have dinner any more?” asked Amalia with faked surprise.

  “Oh, stop it. You know what I mean. I’m out of practice. Lately I’ve only been eating in the office or in the neighborhood cafés,” he said, trying to justify himself.

  Amalia kept staring at him in an amused fashion. “I’m not offended, and by turning down this invitation of yours I was hoping to avoid, for both of us, the embarrassment of having to say – or not say – certain things. I’m not stupid, I get it. I don’t need detailed explanations.”

  This time it was Ryan who was groping in the dark.

  “What are you trying to say? What’s going on in that contorted mind of yours?”

  Amalia sipped her sparkling water before continuing with her explanations. “I know, you didn’t like me before and you don’t like me now. There is no need to resort to cheap tricks like eating onions or stuff like that. And I don’t really understand why you insisted on this dinner in the first place. I was quite happy to go home right away. Am I here because you feel the need to repeat the little speech you gave me ten years ago?”

  Ryan suddenly felt as though a key piece of the puzzle was missing.

  “What speech?” he asked slowly.

  Am
alia looked at him intently with those clear eyes. “It went something like: ‘I wouldn’t go out with you if you were the last woman on earth.’ Even though I’m sure you phrased it more elegantly at the time. But the meaning was the same, I’m sure,” she replied, trying to keep her voice low.

  Ryan ran his hands through his hair. “Yeeeeeah… Not really one of my best moments…” he admitted through clenched teeth.

  “For heaven’s sake, I’m sure if you’d concentrated more you’d have managed to be even more hard hitting,” she taunted.

  He lurched forward. “Okay, okay, I get it! And I’m sorry!” Anything to keep her from going on and on about it.

  “Better late than never, I guess…” Amalia mused. “I will have to tell Kayla the story about the onions, though. She will laugh for a whole week.”

  Ryan suddenly jumped up as though he had been bitten by a viper. “Will you excuse me a moment?” he asked before walking in the direction of the kitchen. He disappeared from view for about a minute and then returned to the table looking pleased with himself.

  About ten minutes later the pizzas arrived: a margherita for Amalia, and a double cheese with peppers and spicy salami for Ryan.

  “And what about the onions?” She asked in amazement.

  He flashed a toothy grin, completely satisfied with himself. “There aren’t any onions.”

  “Well, that’s a real shame. Because you see, Ryan, it just so happens that I adore onions. But I hate peppers,” Amalia said, proud of having won this little battle as well as rattling his chain in such a satisfactory manner.

  Ryan’s irritating smile disappeared.

  They ate the pizzas whilst immersed in a conversation that turned out to be much more convivial than either of them expected, even managing to joke about some of the weird things that had happened to them over the years. They talked without ever touching on anything too personal. Only towards the end of the evening did Amalia try to bring the conversation round to what they had been speaking about that afternoon.

  “So, you don’t want to tell me anything about your life in Chicago, then?” she prompted, resting her chin on her hand.

  “But I’ve already told you everything!” he said.

  “No, you haven’t. You’ve told me all about the District Attorney in Chicago, who is just the same as any big city District Attorney in America. You haven’t told me anything about your personal life!”

  “And what would be so interesting about that?” he inquired.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Ryan! Don’t be so difficult. Come on, give…” she said, urging him to continue.

  “All right. But only because it’s you. Yes, at one point I did live with someone,” he admitted through clenched teeth.

  “But you never got married?”

  “No, I’ve never even been close, to be honest. I lived with her about five years ago, the relationship dragged on for a year and since then I’ve always lived on my own,” he revealed. “It’s much better that way.”

  “You see? It wasn’t that hard, was it…”

  “What about you, have you ever lived with anyone?” he asked, suddenly very interested in the topic.

  “Who, me? Are you crazy!?”

  “But you said you weren’t opposed to the idea of living with someone…”

  “It’s true, I’m not against it in the absolute sense of the word. But I don’t function very well as part of a couple. I must have some anti-social gene or something. Not to mention that my life is chaos and the men I meet seem to expect some sweet girl who’s waiting for them at the front door when they return home from work – and they probably want the girl and the dinner to be laid out waiting for them too.”

  Ryan laughed. “I’m beginning to guess your problem. Not the waiting on the doorstep but mainly the dinner, right?”

  “Well, my culinary skills are anything but enviable…” she added, remembering the disaster with the potatoes.

  “Who cares. Hire a maid to cook.” Coming from him, the idea was a little unsettling.

  “Well if I ever end up in that situation, maybe I’ll consider it,” was all she said.

  “And as for waiting at the door, buy a cat. He won’t even notice the difference,” he suggested with a wink at her.

  “I always thought cats were born for much more glorious tasks than just covering the house with fur. But if I do ever meet the right man – something I highly doubt – I’ll try to keep your advice in mind.”

  Ryan suddenly reached out his hand as if by mistake and touched Amalia’s arm. She looked at him uncertainly and he smiled at her disarmingly, something she wasn’t used to. She instantly felt her traitorous heart begin to beat more quickly.

  “You’re only going to be this weird today, right?” she inquired, trying to break the spell of the moment.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s very probable. Tomorrow I’ll wake up and I’ll be the usual ogre that I always am.”

  “Well I’m glad to hear you admit it.”

  “It must be a moment of weakness,” he said playfully. “If I were you I’d take advantage of it.”

  At that point, Amalia decided that it was best to nip the whole thing in the bud, so she pretended to look at the clock. “It’s already half past ten. Don’t you think we ought to be going?” she asked, trying to sound formal again.

  Ryan called over the waiter and asked for the check. Amalia offered to pay for everything or at least for half of it, but he wouldn’t hear of it. “Hey, I might not be a big-shot lawyer, but I can still afford a pizza,” he said, sounding almost annoyed.

  “Ryan, it’s not a date. I can pay my share of it,” she said as they left the restaurant, walking towards the subway. The day had been really strange, so she might as well try and finish it off as courageously as possible.

  He decided not to answer.

  “Listen, don’t you think that it’s a bit late to take the subway? Wouldn’t it be better to call a taxi?” he asked, sounding a bit worried.

  “I feel like I want to live dangerously,” she laughed.

  “Ok, but at this time of night I really think you’d be wiser to take a taxi,” Ryan insisted.

  “What the hell do you think’s going to happen to me…?”

  “Best not to think about it. Come on, call a taxi or I’ll come with you on the subway.”

  “All the way to the East Village? Why?” she asked.

  “To make sure you get home alright. I’ve been working for the District Attorney’s office for years and all I hear about are muggings on every street corner. I’m obsessed with it. You might call it a professional hazard.”

  At that point Amalia gave in.

  “Okay, fine, I’ll try and get a cab then. I can’t make you go all the way to Manhattan for nothing – I mean, I can’t even reward you with a kiss,” she said jokingly. The atmosphere was electric, though.

  “Yeah, thanks to all those damn peppers,” he said, nervously putting his hands in his pockets.

  “Hey, what can you do, we all have our own pet hates and mine just happens to be peppers.”

  Ryan looked at her for a long time. “Next time I’ll get a margherita as well, then.”

  Amalia frowned, not sure exactly what he meant with those words. It seemed like such a trivial sentence, but it implied a range of possibilities.

  They stood looking at each other for a moment. Then Ryan closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “I know you think I’m crazy, but right now I’m wishing I’d ordered, I don’t know, a four cheese pizza. Or at least ham and mushrooms…”

  “Ryan, please, shut up,” pleaded Amalia, who was about to give in to her own desire to move closer to him. Or at least to get him to move closer to her.

  “Mints?” he suggested. And in that moment, Amalia completely lost control of the situation and rapidly walked the two steps that separated them, stood up on tiptoe and put her lips firmly to Ryan’s. For a moment, he froze, petrified, but then he embraced her and l
owered his face to allow their mouths to meet, slowly caressing her lips with his own – slowly dissolving all his doubts. And as soon as Amalia opened her mouth, he took the opportunity to intensify the kiss, sliding his tongue along her lower lip.

  He leant back a second to observe her better.

  “Are the peppers a problem?” he asked anxiously.

  “What?” asked Amalia, completely enchanted by the sensations the kiss had unleashed.

  “The peppers,” he reminded her with a chuckle.

  “Ah, the peppers, right… well, let’s say that I may have slightly exaggerated my hatred for them. It must have been some unpleasant childhood memory or something like that.”

  She heard Ryan laughing as he held her.

  “I’d kiss you again,” he said. “But I think I’d better not.”

  Amalia felt herself splutter. “Yeah, sure…”

  But she wasn’t sure of anything – not how they’d got to kissing nor why they had stopped. It was obvious that Ryan had a lot more self-control than she did. Or maybe just a lot less desire to kiss her. The thought awoke her from the coma into which she had fallen.

  “Oh my God!” she said, touching her lips. “I… I just kissed you… I’m mortified.” Maybe he hadn’t even wanted to kiss her, perhaps it had all just been just talk before. “Ryan, I don’t really know how to thank you for the pizza and how to apologize for this… this incident. Really, I’m mortified.”

  “You’ve said that twice already…” he pointed out. He had no idea what was going on in Amalia’s head at that moment.

  “Yeah, well I’m sorry again. I’ll get the clothes you lent me back to you as soon as they come back from the cleaners…” she said, emphasizing the distance that separated them. From the corner of her eye she saw a providential taxi traveling in their direction and flagged it down with a determined wave.

  “Thank you for dinner,” she repeated, quickly climbing into the taxi before he could stop her, or even worse, let him humiliate her even further. If that was possible.

  Only after a few minutes of sitting in the taxi did she dare sit up straight. She forced herself not to think about the evening and to completely erase that kiss from her mind – or ‘unfortunate event’, as she resolved to refer to it from that moment on.