Page 55 of Broken Heart Syndrome
‘You pick her up or she meet you here?’
Jeepers, men are crazy. Why the heck did Gio think that was important?
‘I picked her up, of course.’
‘Wait in the car or come to the door?’
‘To the door.’
‘Gio –’ I started, wanting to interrupt this bizarre interrogation.
‘Hush, Frankie, this is between the men now,’ Gabriella said, laying a warning hand on my arm. I looked at the ceiling and searched for patience. Gabriella might be fiery, but she had a strong Italian husband who wore the trousers, and that was just the way she liked it. If Gio thought something needed to be said, then she would let him say it. For his part Gio ignored me.
‘Who will pay tonight?’ Gio asked, still staring intently at Tom.
‘Gio!’ I raised my voice, mortified by how rude he was being. Tom, however, was totally unruffled.
‘Me of course, sir,’ Tom replied without hesitation. Gio regarded him for a moment longer, then smiled.
‘Bene amico,’ he said, clapping Tom on the back. ‘Let’s get you to a table.’
As soon as we were seated and Gabriella had admonished me (luckily in Italian) for my casual clothes, a bottle of pinot grigio was dumped in an ice bucket by the table. Gio patted me on the cheek and they thankfully left us alone. I tucked some of my hair that had fallen out of its knot behind my ear and studied the menu, avoiding Tom’s eyes.
‘Sorry about that,’ I mumbled without looking up at him. ‘They can be a bit … full on.’
‘They’re great,’ he said warmly. ‘They care a lot about you. How do you know them?’
‘Family friends,’ I replied vaguely, and not wanting to go into too much detail about my family I asked, ‘Do you speak Italian?’
‘Yes, fluently.’ I lifted my shocked eyes to his and my mouth dropped open, but then I saw his eyes were dancing again. ‘Well, I’m nearly fluent. I can say “ciao” and “bella”. What more do you really need?’ I felt a wave of relief; then, seeing him smile, I burst out laughing.
‘You snake,’ I said through my laughter. ‘I almost choked on my wine.’
‘I love watching you laugh,’ he said, and I saw his eyes were warm on me. ‘I used to get so jealous watching you laugh with the others. It made me ridiculously angry.’
‘Angry?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘Angry that you never laughed or smiled with me. It made me act like even more of a knob, making you even less likely to loosen up. A vicious circle.’ He shrugged, ‘I’m an idiot.’ I looked at my hands and didn’t say anything because hehadbeena knob and an idiot. He sighed.
‘How long have you been baking cakes?’ I looked up at him and smiled a small smile. I knew he was trying to coax me into a safe conversation to help me relax, and I appreciated it.
‘Three years,’ I replied. ‘At first just for Gio and Gabriella and the odd event, then it just took off. I guess I wasn’t loving medicine. I was looking for a way out.’
‘But you don’t want a way out now.’
‘No … Mamma got sick and the palliative team was so wonderful. I’d never seen medicine work that way before. So when I came back to work I applied to do some of my medical core training in a hospice, and loved it. I don’t think I could do it full time but that’s where the cakes come in: light relief.’
‘It must have been hard with your mum,’ he said softly. I broke eye contact and shrugged. Mamma had wanted to die at home and I made sure she could, but with no siblings or other family to help (at least none who could or would) things were … tough. I was glad I did it, but yes, it was hard. That was part of the reason I had been so grateful to the palliative care team.
As if sensing my withdrawal, Tom moved things back to a lighter subject. ‘What’s the weirdest cake you’ve ever made?’
‘Um …’ I bit my lip and smiled. ‘I guess this might be one of the strangest.’ I pulled my phone out of my bag and quickly brought up a picture of the cake in question. He frowned.
‘It’s beautiful,’ he said. ‘What’s weird about it?’
‘Look carefully at the design,’ I urged, and when he still looked confused I added, ‘It was for a genitourinary consultant’s birthday.’ I saw that he finally understood when his eyes widened and he burst out laughing.
The beautiful designs on the cake were in fact the microscopic appearance of syphilis, gonorrhea, chlamydia, HIV – in fact all the sexually transmitted diseases were represented. The cake had been perfect because only the genitourinary doctors (who spend a large percentage of their time peering down a microscope at these organisms) had known what it was, and all his family just thought it was beautifully decorated.
