Sunday Scribblings: Dinner

The Sunday Scribblings prompt this week is dinner.



I didn't think that a bottle of wine could make this any easier. Maybe two.

"A Cabernet Franc form Bordeaux would be great . And we've already decided. We'll start with an order of Mussels Marinara and then an order of your Chicken Sorentino. The same for the lady." Alex barely gave the waiter an opportunity to glance at me. I hated having to eat chicken when we went out.

The waiter collected our menus. Alex looked up at me, his eyes were still dreamy. "Well." He rubbed his palms together as though he couldn't wait to dive in. "Well. This, this is nice." I couldn't help stuttering; I felt feverish from the heat of romantic attempt.

"Two years together, Dev." He made my nickname so masculine. Why couldn't he add the i to the end and call me goddess?

The waiter delivered our bottle. I was almost too flushed to drink.

We sat together and sipped slowly. A small grove of lights decorated the outdoor patio. A Roman fountain splashed out in the center of the courtyard. It reminded me of the Fountain of Moses, of Rome; a place of such dedication and beauty at once and of tragedy and decay at its end.

I starred across the setting. He carried on about our two years together; our 24 months; our 730 days together, it felt so long to me. I was still amazed by the fact that my silence never bothered him; how the stillness agitated my senses, incredibly. How some people slip so easily into the delusion of love while others hunger for sensibility and a way out.

I sipped and then I gulped. I couldn't believe that he wasn't waiting for the dessert opportunity. His words carried him to a desperate gaze. I held it with him. I knew what was coming. He would present a tiny leathered box with a gem at the front, a magical stone would sit underneath a pillow of velvety cloth. My existence would become eternally sealed, a fate of chicken dinners, annual Thanksgiving football, and his family. I had anticipated that this anniversary would end in vow.

I couldn't hold on to a laugh. He asked what was so funny. My head was dizzy enough to tell him the truth. I had already missed this opportunity a few times. I held on to the heat from the Cab and from my excitement.

As I sat across from his smoky fantasy-filled eyes I waited for my moment of freedom. There was nothing to interrupt us but the sensitive voices of dreamy eyed couples and the serene state of Rome surrounding us. I would cry for him tonight.