Page 104 of Can't Kiss the Chef

Leaving the heated arena is a mistake. The mid November air has a chill to it that tells me there are no more seventy degree days in our future. Settling into my heated seat, I scroll through my playlist looking for one to set the tone for the day. I finally find the perfect mix of Noah Kahan and Gracie Adams when my Nonna’s name pops up on my phone.

I double check that my phone is connected to bluetooth before answering the call.

“Lola,” she sounds excited, like we haven’t talked in weeks, when in reality I talked to her two days ago. “How’s the end of the semester going?”

“You know I thought the end of the semester would be a lot easier not being a biology major, but nope. I’m still running around like headless chicken. I did fit in a little ride this morning so that felt good.”

“Oh that’s good, I tried to get Nonno to walk around the block with me today but he said he was busy. I was so mad at him and his excuses. What does he mean he’s busy. He’s retired and we spend all day together. He made me look like a fool because when I came home he had the kitchen table set because had already planned on making breakfast for us.” Her Italian accent gets heavier the more emotional she is.

My grandparents have thatNotebooktype of love. Nonna came to America at eighteen with just a promise of a better life and the love of Nonno. They beat all the odds. Their Italian import store was a success. Their kids have careers that they never let themselves dream they’d have back in Italy. To this day they are still each other’s best friend. I think Byron is myforever best friend. The one I want to get mad at when he doesn’t want to go out with me, only to find out he had plans for us that were beyond my wildest dreams. If I’m being honest with myself I know that if we don’t figure out how to communicate our feelings, I’m nervous we won’t make it. We jumped into this thing and never really looked back. I don’t regret it. Byron was the man I was supposed to come back to. I just want to make sure we make it the distance this time. I won’t survive another heartbreak at the hands of this man.

“Nonna can I ask you something?”

“Anything, sweetheart.”

“How did you get Nonno to open up to you?”

She laughs, it’s soft, but makes me feel silly for asking the question.

“That took some work. We grew up in a time and place where there wasn’t time to talk about our feelings. Our lives were dedicated to how we can help the family.” She lets out a small sigh, I know it means she’s reminiscing.

“But we moved to America and had little family here. We spoke English that was not good. We had to rely on each other in a way that neither of us were prepared for. I told him I needed more from him. That I left my emotional support back in Italy. From that day forward, he has always been a listening ear and gives the advice he thinks will help. He took longer to open up, you know how men are.” We both chuckle at that. “The more I opened up to him, the more comfortable he got with talking about his own emotions.”

“Antonella!” My Nonno’s voice cut’s through the speaker.

“It’s time to go to Anthony’s game.”

“Anthony has his first junior varsity basketball game today,” Nonna fills me in. I don’t tell her that I can hear Nonno through the phone.

“Tell him good luck from me and Ollie. Thanks for the advice Nonna, Love you.”

“Love you too, Lola. Remember to be patient, we all handle things differently.”

When she hangs up I drive back home in silence. Disregarding the playlist, I opt to figure out a way to show Byron it’s okay to not be okay.

Jasper’s is weird come mid-November. With the semester winding down the run-down bar is either filled to capacity with students trying to find an escape from the projects and final papers. Whereas other nights the patrons are so sparse it’s like you’ve rented out the space for a private party.

Tonight I feel like the sardine snuggled in the middle of the can.

“Holy shit,” Indy spits out at the back of a guy as she shoves her way through the sea of bodies.

“We go into the bathroom for five minutes and come out to this?” Her eyes frantically scan over the crowd. I’m sure trying to find the guys.

I find them before she does. Marcus is seated in the back booth we have claimed as ours through the years. I quickly scan the seats at the bar when I realize Byron isn’t at the booth with the guys. That’s where I find him trying to figure out how to carry back enough drinks for the table.

“Why don’t you go sit with Marcus and I’ll help By with the drinks?”

“Sounds good.”

Pushing my way through the sea of drunk people and stepping on a few toes with my three-inch heeled boots I finally make it to Byron’s side.

“One of those for me?” I ask, pointing to the beers and shots in front of him.

“Lola,” the excitement in his voice doesn’t reach his eyes. “You can have whatever you want, baby.”

Offering him a small small I pick up two shots handing one over to him. I’m not sure when he found the time, but it’s clear Byron has been drinking much faster than I have. If he is going to be in this state I want to make sure I’m the one watching his back.

The shot is wobbling in his hand as he brings it to his lips. I watch as a portion of the shot misses his lips and spills down his chin.

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