Summer Rush (Because of Hope)

by Ashley Wilcox

  “And you see it now? The sparkle?”

  She smiles that loving smile that only mothers have.

  “I do.”

  Smiling at her, and realizing that Joey does put the pep in my step, I answer her previous question. “And yes, you do get to meet him. He’s picking me up in…” I pause to look at my watch and check what time it is. “Oh crap! He’s going to be here in a half hour!” I panic, not even close to being ready.

  “Wheel me in my room. I might just have something for you.”

  Desperate for help I follow her orders and wheel her into her bedroom.

  “Open the closet door,” she asks once we get in there.

  I do, and find a line of beautiful dresses hanging in the closet. I’ve never seen them before.

  “Mom, these are beautiful. Where’d you get these?” I ask, looking at them all.

  “Oh, honey, I’ve had these since I was your age. Sadly, they’re all back in style again,” she chuckles.

  Checking the tags, I find they are exactly my size. Sighing in relief, I pick out a beautiful strapless pastel yellow sundress.

  “That’s one of my favorites,” my mom adds behind me.

  Excited to go and try it on, I lean over and kiss my mom’s cheek, then quickly run to my room.

  “Hope!”

  Crap, I just left her in her room!

  “Sorry.” I apologize, wheeling her back into the living room. She laughs.

  “Thanks, honey.”

  Hurrying back into my room, I slip on my dress, clip my dull brown hair up into a French twist, carefully apply some mascara, and add some lip gloss. Just as I slip my white flip flops on, I hear a knock on the screen door.

  “Sweetheart?” my dad calls from outside my bedroom.

  “Come in!”

  Peeking his head around the door, my dad smiles at me. “You have a young man waiting for you when you’re ready.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I’ll be right out.”

  Checking myself in the mirror one last time, I make way out to the living room. Joey is waiting for me in the entry way next to my dad.

  My heart skips a beat, seeing how handsome he looks dressed up. He has on tan linen pants, a white button down shirt with the sleeves a quarter of the way rolled up, flip flops, and his hair is perfectly gelled. Seeing his tanned, smooth, muscular chest peeking out of his shirt is enough to make my temperature rise; he is unbelievably gorgeous.

  “Wow, you look beautiful,” Joey compliments me.

  “Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself,” I answer, trying to calm the out of control butterflies in my stomach. Smiling, I nod my head toward my parents. “I see you guys have already met.”

  “Yes, we have,” my dad answers. My mom winks at me from behind Joey with a huge grin. She obviously approves of his looks. “Well, don’t let us hold you two up,” my dad continues.

  “Yes go, have a good time,” my mom chimes in.

  “It was very nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Taylor,” Joey says, shaking my dad’s hand and nodding to my mom.

  After I give them both a quick peck on the cheek, we make our way out the door.

  Seeing his car in the driveway brings back all my insecurities from earlier. Parked next to my truck is a shiny black BMW with its top down. Suddenly, I’m ashamed of our small, three bedroom ranch. We come from such different worlds, it’s not even funny.

  Being a gentleman, Joey opens the passenger door for me before entering his side. Instead of looking at him I stare out the window, fighting back the knot forming in my stomach. There’s no way we can have a future together. Who knows what he thinks of me now; not only do I drive a beat up truck, but I also live in a house that’s maybe a quarter of the size of his vacation home. I can only imagine what his regular house looks like.

  “Hope, is everything okay?” he asks in a concerned voice.

  Turning, and looking at him I immediately feel bad, seeing the frightened look on his face.

  “Yeah, it’s nothing,” I lie, forcing a smile.

  “Tell me,” he says, seeing right through me.

  “You just… I just…”

  “Hope, it’s fine. Just tell me,” he says with his breathtaking smiling.

  “We just come from totally different lives, ‘ya know?”

  “Um, no I don’t. What do you mean?” he asks, arching his eyebrow in confusion.

  “Your family is incredibly wealthy and, well, mine is far from it,” I admit, staring at my hands on my lap.

  “Really…that worries you?” he asks, lifting my chin so I can look at him.

  “Kinda,” I respond, shrugging my shoulders.

  “Well, I couldn’t care less about that, so you shouldn’t either,” Joey assures me with a wink. “Okay?”

  Nodding my head yes, I softly agree, “Okay.”

  Wanting to change the subject, I ask in an enthused tone, “So, where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see,” Joey responds with a mischievous grin.

  “If I guess the restaurant, will you tell me?”

  With a skeptical look, he ponders the question for a second, then answers, “Alright.”

  “Let’s see…” I say, tapping my finger on my lips, thinking of restaurants in the area. “Okay, Mexican or Italian?”

  Joey gives me an are ‘ya serious? look, arching an eyebrow. Laughing, I say, “I’m gonna go with Italian.”

  “Good observation.”

  Knowing that there’s an Italian restaurant named “Joey’s”, I choose the obvious.

  “Joey’s?”

  He looks at me, thrilled.

  “No shit, you guys gotta restaurant named Joey’s?”

  “Yes, we do! I’m gonna guess that since you didn’t know, it’s not where we’re going?”

  He looks at me with a smile.

  “No, but now I know where we’re going on our next date.”

  Hearing him already planning our next date sends a rush of nervous excitement through my veins.

  “So, not Joey’s…how about Antonio’s?”

  “Nope.”

  “Momma’s pasta?”

  “Nope.”

  “Asti’s?”

  “Nope.”

  What the heck? That’s all the Italian restaurants I know.

  “I give up.”

  “Good, because we’re here.” Joey parks in front of a tiny restaurant that I never knew existed.

  Meeting me on my side of the car, he escorts me into the restaurant. His left hand on my lower back makes my body tingle with excitement. We’re immediately greeted by a middle-aged woman, very attractive. She rushes over to us, kissing Joey on each cheek.

  “Che piacere vederti, Joey.”

  “Anche a te, zia Linda.”

  “Questa è la ragazza? E 'bellissima!” the woman continues, nodding at me with a smile.

  “Sì, questo è Hope,” he says, looking at me and smiling. “And Hope, this is my Aunt Linda.”

  “E’un piacere conoscerla, tesoro,” she responds, holding my hands with a huge smile.

  Giving Joey a confused look, I smile, having no clue what this sweet woman just said to me. Joey smiles back. “She said it’s very nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

  “Yes, you as well,” I say slowly, like she’s hearing impaired.

  “She can hear, she just doesn’t know English,” Joey jokes, nudging me in the side.

  Now feeling embarrassed, I give her an apologetic look. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to care because she just waves her hand and rattles something else off in Italian, then smiles. I smile back, relieved I didn’t offend her, though she could be calling me a stupid girl and I’d have no clue.

  “Ho il tavolo perfetto per voi due,” Aunt Linda says with an adorable grin. “Vieni!” waving for us to follow her.

  Thrilled to be eating at an official authentic restaurant, I look up and smile at Joey as we follow his aunt to our table. Winking at me, he gives me his heartwarming grin.

  Already, this is
the best date I’ve ever been on.

  We walk through a sliding glass door to a beautiful outside sitting area with the ocean as it’s backdrop. Above us is a wooden pergola dressed with white lights, beautiful Italian music playing softly in the background, and candles lit on each table. It looks like a restaurant you’d see on a brochure for Italy.

  “Hope,” Joey says, snapping me out of my aw-moment. He’s standing behind one of the two chairs at our table, waiting for me to sit down.

  “Oh, sorry.” I smile before taking my seat.

  “Cosa posso ottenere da bere? Stiamo con il nostro stasera cabernet.”

  “She asked, what would you like to drink? They’re featuring their cabernet tonight,” Joey translates while his aunt smiles next to me.

  “Oh, I’ll just have a coke please,” I respond with a smile. It’s hard not to smile at her, she is so sweet.

  Turning her head to Joey, he responds, “Avrà una coca, e avrò un acqua, per favore.”

  Whatever Joey just said thrilled her, because she exchanges her smile with a proud grin and squeezes his cheeks, saying, “Bravo ragazzo,” at least three times.

  Joey smiles. He almost looks embarrassed, being mauled with affection from his aunt in front of me. I personally think it’s cute.

  While resting her hand on his cheek, and repeating “Bravo ragazzo,” one last time, she hurries away to get our drinks.

  “She adores you,” I say once she is out of hearing distance.

  “My family is crazy,” he says, rolling his eyes and smiling. “But yeah, she’s pretty awesome.”

  “I just wish I could understand her. She’s so sweet.”

  “That’s what you have me for. I’m happy to translate. And by the way, she thinks you’re beautiful,” he smiles, his eyes sparkling even more than normal under the white lights.

  Flattered by his statement, I feel my cheeks warming, turning a nice shade of pink I’m sure.

  “And with that, I can’t disagree,” he winks, placing his napkin on his lap.

  Thankfully, his aunt returns with our drinks, interrupting our conversation, as I’m sure my cheeks have changed from pink to tomato colored. After placing our drinks in front of us, she smiles and walks away. I realize we were never given a menu to make our meal selections.

  “Do you mind getting us menus? She must’ve forgotten them.”

  “They don’t have menus here. My aunt cooks something new every night. As long as you like Italian food, you’re good,” he assures me, buttering a piece of Italian bread she brought with our drinks.

  “Is she the only one here?” I ask, not seeing anyone else.

  “I’m sure Vinny’s here somewhere.”

  Giving him a questionable look, he answers, “My brother.”

  “Oh.”

  “Your eyes are amazing. I can’t stop staring at them,” Joey tells me, looking deep into my eyes. I personally have always thought my eyes were a weird color. On all my personal information they are listed as hazel, but they’re not quite hazel. He continues to stare, studying my eyes.

  “I can’t figure out what color they are. They’re like a slate hazel...hazel with a touch of grey.”

  “That’s actually a great way to describe them,” I answer, surprised that he hit it dead on. I guess now I can refer to my eyes as slate hazel.

  “So, do you have a lot of family in the South? Are you from here?”

  This question has been weighing on me as a potential make or break for us. I assume, since I’ve never seen Joey around town before, and because the house on the water is his vacation home, that he doesn’t live here. This frightens me as I’ve never been in a long distance relationship before. Maybe I’m jumping the gun worrying about this on our first date, but it’s something to consider, moving forward. We obviously have a connection–we have since we first laid eyes on each other last summer, so I don’t think worrying about a future is too far fetched.

  “My mom grew up here, but no, I live in Long Island,” he answers, almost sounding ashamed.

  Well that sucks!

  Trying to hold back my disappointment and the thought that what we have will just be temporary, I force a smile and continue my twenty-one questions of getting to know Joey.

  “That’s a little backwards, don’t ‘ya think? With your mom being Italian and all? Aren’t there a lot of Italian people in Long Island?” I bite my lip, hoping I didn’t offend him. I didn’t realize how stereotypical that sounded until it already came out. It’s just I’ve heard that a lot of Italians live in Long Island, and New Jersey–you’d think his parents would be from there, not the South.

  Laughing at my question, he agrees. “I never thought about that.”

  Exhaling the breath I apparently have been holding since I asked the question, he continues, clarifying my confusion. “My parents met in college at NYU. My mom grew up down here as I said, and my dad was actually a foreign exchange student in college–he was born and raised in Italy. They ended up getting married after graduation and chose to stay in the city, but once they had me they bought a house on the island.”

  “So, your dad was the first one from his family to come to the states?” I ask, intrigued.

  “Yup. Some of my aunts and uncles slowly trickled over here, but most of them–including my grandparents, still live in Italy.”

  “Wow, that’s incredible,” I respond, truly amazed by this discovery. He smiles.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Obviously, you can tell that some of them haven’t gotten the English down quite yet.”

  Just as I am about to ask my next question, his aunt returns with our salads. Judging by how delicious it looks, Aunt Linda knows how to cook and I am looking forward to the rest of the meal. It’s kind of exciting being surprised with your meal, not knowing what you’re going to be served next.

  Once we finish our salads, Aunt Linda returns with fried mozzarella. Dipping one in the marinara sauce, I take a bite and it immediately melts in my mouth. It’s like taking a bite of heaven.

  This food is for real!

  “Good, right?” Joey asks, obviously picking up on my enjoyment. I nod my head in agreement.

  “So good.”

  The food kept coming. Next came a cheesy penne pasta dish that was equally delicious, followed by the best chicken parmigiana that I’ve ever sunk my teeth into, with a side of, to die for, roasted vegetables. Just when I think I can’t fit anything else into my mouth, Aunt Linda comes out with two huge cannolis.

  Blowing my cheeks out like a blowfish and placing my hand on my stomach, I contemplate the pros and cons of attempting to fit this heavenly looking cannoli in my mouth, knowing that it can possibly put me over the edge.

  “Oh come on, you can’t pass on one of Aunt Linda’s cannolis,” Joey chimes in as he notices my stare down with the current object of affection–the cannoli.

  “Seriously, how do you guys eat this much?”

  Instead of answering he laughs, lifting the cannoli into his mouth. I stare, salivating as he takes a bite like I haven’t eaten in days. “Mmmm,” he moans, closing his eyes with a satisfied grin.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake,” I say, giving into the temptation and picking up the other cannoli that’s calling my name. “If I throw up from eating so much, you’re holding my hair.”

  “Gladly,” he winks with a grin.

  Oh, sweet mother of god. It is delicious!

  “Come è stato tutto?” his aunt asks, picking up the empty plates in front us.

  Looking to my translator, he repeats, “She asked how was everything?”

  “Incredible, thank you!” I smile.

  “Incredibile, grazie!” Joey repeats.

  “Certo, certo. Si prega di tornare a vedere di nuovo. E 'così bello conoscerti,” she says with a huge smile, cupping my cheek with her hand. “Bella ragazza.”

  I smile, knowing that she just said something sweet to me, but look to Joey to find out just what it was. When I turn he’s in a daze, staring
at me with heart-filled eyes, taking in the exchange between Aunt Linda and I. The butterflies come to life, feeling the emotion he’s pouring out of his eyes, and I smile.

  Snapping out of his daze, he repeats, “She said, of course, of course. Please come and see us again. It’s nice to meet you, beautiful girl.”

  Nodding my head, and smiling, I say, “Yes, of course.”

  “Well, it looks like you’ve captured another Puccino heart,” Joey declares once Aunt Linda walks away.

  My heart trembles and my stomach does a somersault, hearing Joey admit that I’ve claimed his heart already. Knowing that I’m not ready for that kind of conversation, and still unsure of my own feelings, I dismiss the thought and decide not to elaborate on it.

  “Well I am pretty wonderful, ‘ya know?” I say sarcastically.

  “That you are.” He winks and asks, “Wanna go for a walk?” as he nods towards the beach.

  “Sure.”

  I’m glad to finally stand up, hoping the food will settle a little more comfortably. I still can’t believe how much I ate!

  Grabbing my hand, Joey walks over to the back sliding glass door of the restaurant and yells in, “Grazie zia, Linda. Ci vediamo più tardi!”

  With her big, sweet smile she answers, “Addio,” and blows us a kiss while waving goodbye.

  Once we walk down the patio steps, Joey slips his flip flops off and places them to the side. “I like walking barefoot on the beach. You can leave yours too, if you want.”

  Loving the feel of sand on my feet, I place my sandals next to his. Giving me a quick head to toe once over, he smiles and takes my hand again. The simple gesture sends an euphoric vibe throughout my body; similar to the one I get every morning as I breathe in the crisp ocean scent when I first step out on the beach. It’s almost like a feeling of bliss... and contentment.

  I feel content with Joey.

  We walk in silence for a while. Hand in hand, we enjoy the presence of each other with the crashing of the waves as our background music.

  “Is it too soon to ask what you’re doing tomorrow?” Joey asks out of nowhere. I look up at him and grin.