Carissima

by Rosanna Chiofalo

  “Wow! These look great! Dig in. Ladies, first.” Gregory hands over the tongs to me.

  I take two, hoping he doesn’t notice, but nothing seems to get past this guy. I thought men were the less observant of the sexes?

  “Come on! Don’t be shy. Take more.”

  I take two more. Gregory fills his plate and wastes no time popping the escargots into his mouth.

  “Hmmm! Heaven!” He washes down the escargots with water, which makes sense. I can’t see how downing Scotch with them would work.

  I decide to just make this quick. I’ll swallow the escargot in one shot. No chewing. That could prove disastrous, and I’ll end up getting sick all over Gregory. Placing the escargot in my mouth, I press my lips together as I swallow quickly. That wasn’t so bad. All I could taste were the seasoned bread crumbs the escargots were coated in. I don’t notice any strong, lingering bad flavor on my tongue. Maybe I should try savoring them to see if perhaps I’d like them after all?

  “Good, right?” Gregory is looking at me.

  I hold up my thumb and nod my head. “Delicious.”

  I place another one in my mouth, but this time, I softly begin to chew it. Big mistake. While the bread-crumb batter is tasty, the gelatinous texture of the escargot is not. I feel like I’m going to gag. Fortunately, Gregory is too enamored with his snails to notice I’m about to projectile my half-chewed escargot right at him. I grab my napkin and discreetly spit it out. Trying to wash the flavor off my tongue, I take several gulps of Chardonnay. This would be a good time to take my restroom break.

  “Can you excuse me, Gregory? I need to use the restroom.” I smile sweetly at him, hoping he doesn’t detect anything is wrong.

  “Of course.” Gregory immediately stands up and doesn’t sit down until after I’ve passed him. Such a gentleman.

  Once inside the restroom, I rinse out my mouth with cold water. Checking my complexion, I see that most of my makeup is still intact. I reapply a little lipstick even though I’m not done eating. I then notice my cleavage is still hanging out. The escargot fiasco almost made me forget my initial reason for wanting to come to the restroom. I button my blouse.

  Returning to the table, I’m relieved to see the waiter has brought out our entrees. Gregory is sipping on a Coke.

  “No more Scotch? You’re such a lightweight.” I place my hand playfully on Gregory’s shoulder, tossing back his earlier retort.

  He stares at my hand for a moment and then cocks his eyebrow up at me. “Trust me, I’m no lightweight.” His devilish grin is back, and, as usual, it has a disarming effect on me.

  Gregory waits until I’ve taken my first bite out of my Chicken à l’Orange before he cuts his duck.

  “Oh! This is so good!” And it is. I don’t have to pretend with this dish. Somehow the waiter knew I was done with the escargots I had left behind, and he took the plate away while I was in the restroom. There was no way I was going to eat any more.

  “Better than those escargots, huh?” Gregory bellows in laughter.

  “You knew I hated them?” Of course he knew. As I said earlier, he notices everything.

  Gregory can’t stop laughing. “I’m sorry. It’s just when you ate that first one, I could tell by the way your lips were pressed so tightly together that you were forcing it down your throat.”

  I shake my head. “Fine. Have your fun at my expense.”

  “Oh, come on, Pia! You have to admit, it’s really funny.”

  I hate being teased. Always have. Erica had known this about me and had reveled in teasing me from time to time. I’d become accustomed to it from her. I especially hate being teased by men. Refusing to look at Gregory, I continue cutting my chicken and eating it. Out of my peripheral vision, I can see he’s staring at me. I’ve got his attention. Now, he’s serious.

  I’m about to pick up my wineglass when Gregory reaches over and takes my hand in his.

  “You’re so beautiful. I don’t think you fully know that, do you?”

  Finally, I return his gaze. But I haven’t forgotten my wrath at being laughed at.

  “I’m sure I was beautiful when I was forcing myself to eat those snails.”

  “Pia! I was just having a little fun with you. I’m sorry. I should’ve acknowledged sooner that I could tell you didn’t like the escargots. But why didn’t you tell me that you didn’t like them when I asked if we should order them?”

  I sigh. “You’re right. I’m being silly. I actually forgot what escargots were until the waiter brought them out, and at that point, I felt bad about letting you eat all of them. I’ve never actually tried them so I thought maybe if I got past the idea of their being snails, I would enjoy them. I should’ve told you that I might not like them. I guess I just wanted to impress you.”

  Now I’ve really done it. I’ve totally let my guard down and let him know that I not only care about what he thinks, but that I was trying to please him. I’m afraid to meet Gregory’s stare, but I do, and the tenderest expression greets me.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?” I laugh.

  “For being so candid. There’s nothing sexier in a woman than her not being afraid to show who she really is.”

  My cheeks are absolutely warming up. I know I should thank him now, but I can’t, especially when he brings my hand to his lips and kisses it lightly.

  An hour later, we leave the restaurant and walk to the promenade overlooking the East River and Manhattan. Gregory and I are holding hands. It’s muggy outside, and our sweaty palms stick together, but I don’t mind.

  I’m having a great time even with the embarrassing escargot episode. It’s been nice getting out and doing something other than thinking about how I’m going to score an interview with Francesca Donata.

  As if reading my thoughts, Gregory asks, “So have you prepared your questions yet for Francesca?”

  “Of course not. I don’t even know if I’m going to get the interview.”

  “I told you she will do it. It might take a little arm twisting, but she’s not the only one who can be quite persuasive.”

  “Thanks again for asking her. I owe you.”

  Gregory waves his hand dismissively at me. “I’m not like that. I do things for my friends because I like to help.”

  “So I guess we’re friends.” I smile seductively at Gregory.

  “Yes, but I’m hoping we can be more. I know this is our first date, and forgive me if I’m being presumptuous.”

  “You are being presumptuous.” It’s my turn now to have a little fun with Gregory as he had with me earlier over the escargots.

  “I call it confidence.”

  He’s so irresistible.

  “I love it down here.”

  “Me too. It’s really grown a lot in the past ten years though it’s still quite small.”

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Fire away.” Gregory opens up his arms as if to say, “Hit me.”

  “How can you afford to live here? I’ve heard the rents can be quite pricey in this part of Long Island City and you’re a—”

  “Starving artist?”

  “No offense. But yeah.”

  “First of all, I’m not a starving artist—maybe struggling is a more accurate way of putting it. Secondly, the house I live in is my parents’. Since they’re now retired and living in Florida, I have the place to myself. It’s a two-family house, and we rent the apartment above me. So it’s good that I’m still living here when tenant concerns come up. Anyway, my parents don’t expect me to pay rent so I’m saving a lot there. I take care of whatever maintenance issues come up with the house and the tenant’s apartment, so they figure we’re squared away.”

  “That’s good.”

  “And while I have quite a ways to go until I’m a more established artist, I do sell a few of my paintings here and there. Plus, I teach art at an after-school program at the junior high in my neighborhood.”

  “That’s great! I can’t believe y
ou haven’t mentioned that.”

  “Well, this is—what? The third time I’ve seen you? I can’t reveal all there is to know about me in one shot or else you’ll lose interest.” Gregory smirks.

  “Who says I’m interested?” I give him my most haughty, disinterested look.

  “Oh, you’re interested.”

  “My, my, Mr. Hewson. You’re quite conceited.” I can’t help but laugh.

  “I’m just being honest. Why play games?”

  I nod my head. He has a point. I’ve always hated the game playing that seems necessary to dating. But as a woman, I also know that it’s best to protect oneself and play the game a bit, especially in the beginning. Another rule of mine which is in agreement with what Gregory said: “Don’t tell a guy everything about you in the first few dates.” But I’m finding it’s easy to confide in Gregory. And I’ve already broken my rules by admitting to him earlier that I wanted to impress him by eating the escargots.

  I glance up and find Gregory peering at me intensely yet again. Shifting my gaze to the skyscrapers across the East River, I pretend I’m taking in the scene. I can still feel Gregory’s eyes on me.

  A warm breeze comes up off the East River.

  “Are you cold?” Gregory asks and then moves in closer to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

  I want to answer with a sarcastic response like, “It’s a muggy June afternoon, and you’re asking me if I’m cold?” but I remain silent since he’s already decided I am cold.

  I’m beginning to feel tired and lean into him. He immediately takes the action as a cue to start swirling his fingers up and down my arm. If he’s this good at stroking with his fingers, his hands must be amazing at giving massages. A soft sigh escapes my lips involuntarily at the thought. Again, Gregory takes it as a sign, and before I know what’s happening, he’s kissing me.

  I don’t know why I’m surprised. We’re standing at a promenade, overlooking the water and the beautiful Manhattan skyline. It’s a romantic setting. I should’ve seen this coming, but I didn’t. I’m not complaining though. Gregory’s lips feel as lush as they look, and his tongue is expertly gliding along mine. Within seconds of his kissing me, I’m kissing him back, and it has to be the longest kiss of my life. And I don’t want it to end.

  As we kiss, Gregory’s hands cup the sides of my face. I snake my arms around his waist. Finally, after what must be three minutes, he breaks the kiss and plants little kisses on my cheeks and along my jawline. I’ve never been kissed this way. There’s a gentle, yet insistent, yearning in his kisses and embrace. I can tell he’s holding himself back and trying to be gentle with me. Tears come to my eyes. I try to force them back, but it’s too late. They’re sliding down my cheeks.

  “Pia? What’s the matter? Oh God! I’m sorry. This is all too much, too soon for you.”

  “No, no. It’s nothing. I’m okay.” I shake my head.

  “I’ve upset you. Please, tell me.”

  I see the anguished pleading in his face. Though I’m embarrassed, I don’t want him beating himself up when he hasn’t done anything wrong.

  “I’m just moved. Sorry! I know that sounds so cheesy.” I give an exasperated laugh.

  “No, please go on. Remember what I said before. I appreciate honesty above all else.”

  Emboldened by his comment, I take a deep breath and let it all out.

  “I’m moved by the way you kissed me. It was so tender. I can tell you were being considerate.” I shake my head. “This is going to sound pathetic, but no one’s ever kissed me like that.” I cross my arms protectively over my chest and look off to the left of the promenade. A couple of teenage boys are attempting to climb the old train cars that stand as a landmark with the words “Long Island” painted on them.

  “Hey.” Gregory speaks softly, tilting my chin so that I’m forced to look right at him. “There’s nothing pathetic about that. I’m extremely flattered to be the first man to kiss you the way you deserve to be kissed.”

  “Why is it you often have a way of saying the right thing to make me feel better? That’s a gift, you know?” I smile.

  He hugs me, rocking my body lightly from side to side. I could stand here forever like this. He feels so good. I want to make him feel as good as he’s made me feel. I lean in and kiss him. Seemingly of its own accord, my body presses up firmly against his, eliciting a groan from him. He can’t help himself this time, and his kisses are fierce as his tongue explores every inch of my mouth. I reach my hands behind his head and run my fingernails along his scalp. It’s too much for him. He breaks away, gasping for air.

  “Pia! You’re killing me.”

  I laugh, and he laughs with me.

  “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

  Gregory glances at his watch.

  “I have another surprise for you before I take you back home. Oh! And there it is.”

  A motorcycle is making its way toward us. The rider stops about fifty feet away and gets off the bike. Removing his helmet, he yells out to Gregory, “Hey, man!”

  Gregory walks over to him and gives him the same fist bump I’d witnessed him giving Paul the other day at the bakery.

  “Pia, this is a good friend of mine, Lou Rabe. You met his girlfriend Connie earlier today.”

  So this is the Lou that Gregory and Connie had been talking about. He is handsome in a bad boy sort of way. Gregory has a hint of bad boy, but Lou seems to exude it from every pore. His hair is jet black and cut in longish, spiky pieces. A five o’clock shadow of stubble outlines his face. His eyes are the same intense black as his hair. His biceps are clearly defined in his snug, long-sleeved black tee. He is tall, at least six feet or six feet one. No wonder Connie wore those extremely high stilettos.

  Lou walks over and shakes my hand. “How you doin’?”

  His strong New Yorker accent further seems to add to his bad-boy persona.

  “Fine. Thanks. How are you?”

  “Can’t complain. Took my baby out for a long ride to the Catskills and back. She’s all yours now.”

  He was referring to his Harley Davidson motorcycle and not Connie.

  “She’s looking good, Lou. You did something different since the last time I rode her a month ago?”

  “Just touched up the paint a little. That’s all. She’s perfect as she is.”

  I mentally roll my eyes. I don’t know how much of this macho talk about a bike I can take.

  “Are you ready, Pia?” Gregory asks me as he takes Lou’s helmet from him and places it on his own head.

  “What? We’re going on the bike? What about your car?”

  Gregory laughs. “We’re just going for a short ride. We’ll meet Lou on Vernon in about twenty minutes.”

  “Pia, I take it from your hesitation you’ve never been on a motorcycle?” Lou asks me.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be smoother than riding in a luxury car. I promise. Connie can’t get enough of her, but we have to ride outside of town. If her mother sees her riding the bike with me, she’ll blow my head off.” Lou snickers.

  Gregory slaps Lou on the back as they laugh even harder together. I can see Olivia DeLuca going after Lou with a shotgun.

  “Won’t I need a helmet, too?”

  “Oh, almost forgot.” Lou takes his backpack off and pulls out a smaller helmet that matches his.

  “It’s Connie’s. She keeps it at my place since she can’t let her mother know she goes riding with me. She won’t mind if I lend it to you.”

  “Thanks.”

  I put on the helmet, and Lou helps me strap it securely.

  “Now remember, Pia, just hold onto Gregory for dear life.”

  My eyes open wide in fear, and Lou laughs.

  “Just kiddin’, sweetheart. Just kiddin’!”

  “Don’t listen to him, Pia. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  Gregory nods his head reassuringly. I nod back. He slides down the protective visor over my eyes and then adj
usts his. I get on the Harley and snuggle as close to him as possible, wrapping my arms around his waist. The action sends off a flutter of butterflies deep in my belly. I can’t help wondering if Gregory is also turned on by having me so close. But my thoughts are soon forgotten as he starts the motorcycle’s engine, and I feel a deep rumble beneath me.

  “Ready?” Gregory shouts.

  “Yes!” I shout back.

  He takes off slowly, which gives me a chance to get used to being on a moving vehicle that has no protective exterior. But then when he gets to a deserted road, he accelerates rapidly. My heart is racing, and I want to shut my eyes, but I know that will just make me feel nauseous. After about a minute, I relax and actually start to enjoy the feel of the rushing wind blowing against me. It’s as if we’re one with the wind and the speed. No wonder Lou and Connie love riding so much.

  We stop in a part of Long Island City that looks desolate compared to the Vernon Boulevard area. Gregory parks the Harley and helps me get off.

  “So, how was it? Think you’ll live?”

  “I can’t wait to get back on! I loved it after I was able to relax.”

  “I knew you’d love it!” Gregory gives me a quick hug.

  “Do you borrow Lou’s bike on a regular basis?”

  “From time to time. I’ve been busy lately with my painting. But maybe one weekend, we can take it and go to the Catskills. It’s beautiful up there, and it makes for a great, long ride.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “This is one of the surprises I have for you.” Gregory takes my hand and leads me into what looks to be a park. As we enter, I see numerous sculptures.

  “This is Socrates Sculpture Park.”

  Many of the sculptures are life-size. A view of the East River and the Manhattan skyline serves as the backdrop.

  “This place has come a long way since it was first started by local sculptors and people in the community back in 1986. It used to be a landfill.”