Page 68 of An Unfinished Story
Their server approached the table and, in a heavy Italian accent, said, “Excuse me. Happy to have you here. What to drink?”
Whitaker tapped the table.“Lista dei vini, signore.”
The server lit up.“Sei Italiano?”
“No, no, amo il cibo Italiano.”From there, Whitaker fell into a lengthy exchange with the man.
To stoke his pride some and to keep his confident smile going, she said, “Even after three months of knowing you, I’m still trying to process the fact that you’re fluent in four languages.”
“Thank you. It’s just about the only thing I do well.”
She wasn’t sure that was true and had a feeling there were many more layers to be pulled back. “What did you two talk about?”
“I told him my roots are far from Italian, but that I loved Italian food so much that I had to learn the language. And then I told him I considered it a travesty that they grow cabernet sauvignon and merlot in Tuscany and asked if he had a nice Sangiovese. He’s bringing it now.”
“What’s wrong with cabernet and merlot?”
“Absolutely nothing, but sadly, many Italian farmers pulled out their ancient indigenous varieties to plant grapes more familiar to the Americans, who happen to be the largest consumer of Italian wines in the world. Though there are many Tuscans who would disagree, I think they are putting their business before their art—something I’m not a fan of.”
“What are you supposed to do if you don’t recognize the wines on a list, then?” She squinted momentarily. “I’m asking for a friend.”
Whitaker took a sip of water. “Good question. Take a chance or ask the server or somm. That’s what they’re there for.”
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? I’ve always hated that I can’t speak another language.” It was true, a deficiency that had always bothered her.
“Oh, c’mon. You didn’t learn Spanish growing up?”
“A few words, but I’m a long way from fluency.”
“Hang around long enough and maybe I can help.”
Clairewasactually thinking about hanging around him for a while. Did he know that?
“Repeat after me,” he said.“Prometo aprender otro idioma antes de cumplir los treinta.”
Claire said, “Whoa, whoa. That’s a lot to say.”
“A couple words at a time.” He walked her through it.
“What did I just say?” Claire asked, going along with this little game of his.
Whitaker leaned in toward her. “I promise to learn another language before I’m thirty.”
Claire chortled with delight. “Thirty! I wish.”
“Did I get your age wrong?”
Was he joking? “You really think I’m under thirty?”
“We’ve never talked about it. It’s not polite to ask a lady her age.”
“For your information, I’m well over thirty, and we’ll stop there.” She blushed. “Thank you for the compliment.” Claire adjusted in her seat. She liked seeing Whitaker open up and continued to play her part in being a good conversationalist. “So how do you say,My name is Whitaker, and I’m an intriguing, sensitive, and complicated man?”
Whitaker flashed a smile.“Mi chiamo Whitaker e sono un uomo intrigante, sensibile e complicato.”
Claire loved to hear him speak. He helped her repeat it. “How about in Spanish?”
Sounding like a completely different person, Whitaker spat out his translation.“Me llamo Whitaker y soy un hombre intrigante, sensible y complicado.”
