people tell me to give up, to just keep going … to make her proud.”
“Wow, I wish I had known her.” I turn to Ned and smile because for the first time she made telling that story so worth it. She never gave me the usual sympathy that people offer. And she never gave me the lecture my dad does about how irresponsible and selfish my mom was or how her dreams killed her. She made my mom seem like a hero and she has no idea how much that means to me. “And why did she have a pen and paper on a skiing trip?” she asks puzzled.
I look down at her and laugh. How does she do that? Make me feel better about something that once ripped my life apart.
“She loved documenting her adventures. She said she didn’t want to forget a single moment.”
“She sounds like a cool lady.” She beams.
I smile down at her. “She was. She would have liked you, you know,” I say honestly. I see a huge smile fill her face before she nods her head.
“I think I would have liked her too,” she says. We walk silently for a few moments before she speaks again. “We made it.”
I look up and see the sign for Paradiso above a very classy looking restaurant. “Yeah, we did,” I say.
“The walk wasn’t so bad, right?”
“No, it wasn’t … it wasn’t at all,” I answer, knowing the double meaning of my sentence.
We’ve been at the restaurant for a couple of minutes; I am trying to decide what to order. The entire menu is in Italian and Ned seems to find it hilarious that I have no idea what any of it means.
“I’m glad this amuses you.”
“I’m sorry, but the look on your face is priceless. You look so vulnerable.” She laughs.
“What are you having?” I ask.
“For starters I’m having bruschetta and for my main I am going to have the cannelloni.”
“Now can you please tell me what you’re having in English? ” I grunt. A playful smile fills her face and while she looks as sexy as ever, I’m more concerned with figuring out what on earth I’m going to eat.
“You’re cute when you’re confused. Well, the bruschetta is a grilled bread seasoned with garlic and served with tomatoes, olive oil, salt and pepper, and the cannelloni is a manicotti-shaped pasta that is stuffed with spinach and ricotta, and served with tomato and besciamella sauce.”
“You lost me at brush better,” I admit.
She laughs. “Bruschetta,” she corrects me.
“Yup, I’m still no less confused than when I read it in Italian. I’m just going to have what you’re having,” I grunt causing her to laugh.
“Good choice.”
“I hope so.” Just as the words leave my mouth, the server walks over. He’s a scrawny boy with messy, brown hair. He’s wearing a white shirt, black pants, and an apron that has the word “Paradiso” printed in fancy, red writing.
“Hello and welcome to Paradiso, my name is Antonio and I’ll be your server for the night. Can I get you anything to drink?” he asks politely.
“We’re ready to order actually,” Ned says. She smiles at him pleasantly.
“That’s great, what can I get for you?” he asks pulling a pen and small notepad out of his apron.
“We’ll have two portions of bruschetta and two cannelloni’s, please. Can we also get a glass of your house white wine and one water, please?” He scribbles down the order and then looks up at us.
“That’s not a problem ma’am. Would you like me to bring a serving of olives to the table while you are waiting for your starters?”
Ned looks at me for confirmation. I, at least, know what an olive is so I nod my head and she turns back to Antonio. “Please,” she says with a smile. He takes our menus and disappears with promises to be back shortly with our drinks and olives.
“Well, that was hard work,” I state as Ned stares at me with a smile on her face.
“Thanks,” she says.
“For what?”
“Telling me about your mother.”
“Yeah.” I breathe, amazed that she knows how big a deal that was.
“So,
“Wow, I wish I had known her.” I turn to Ned and smile because for the first time she made telling that story so worth it. She never gave me the usual sympathy that people offer. And she never gave me the lecture my dad does about how irresponsible and selfish my mom was or how her dreams killed her. She made my mom seem like a hero and she has no idea how much that means to me. “And why did she have a pen and paper on a skiing trip?” she asks puzzled.
I look down at her and laugh. How does she do that? Make me feel better about something that once ripped my life apart.
“She loved documenting her adventures. She said she didn’t want to forget a single moment.”
“She sounds like a cool lady.” She beams.
I smile down at her. “She was. She would have liked you, you know,” I say honestly. I see a huge smile fill her face before she nods her head.
“I think I would have liked her too,” she says. We walk silently for a few moments before she speaks again. “We made it.”
I look up and see the sign for Paradiso above a very classy looking restaurant. “Yeah, we did,” I say.
“The walk wasn’t so bad, right?”
“No, it wasn’t … it wasn’t at all,” I answer, knowing the double meaning of my sentence.
We’ve been at the restaurant for a couple of minutes; I am trying to decide what to order. The entire menu is in Italian and Ned seems to find it hilarious that I have no idea what any of it means.
“I’m glad this amuses you.”
“I’m sorry, but the look on your face is priceless. You look so vulnerable.” She laughs.
“What are you having?” I ask.
“For starters I’m having bruschetta and for my main I am going to have the cannelloni.”
“Now can you please tell me what you’re having in English? ” I grunt. A playful smile fills her face and while she looks as sexy as ever, I’m more concerned with figuring out what on earth I’m going to eat.
“You’re cute when you’re confused. Well, the bruschetta is a grilled bread seasoned with garlic and served with tomatoes, olive oil, salt and pepper, and the cannelloni is a manicotti-shaped pasta that is stuffed with spinach and ricotta, and served with tomato and besciamella sauce.”
“You lost me at brush better,” I admit.
She laughs. “Bruschetta,” she corrects me.
“Yup, I’m still no less confused than when I read it in Italian. I’m just going to have what you’re having,” I grunt causing her to laugh.
“Good choice.”
“I hope so.” Just as the words leave my mouth, the server walks over. He’s a scrawny boy with messy, brown hair. He’s wearing a white shirt, black pants, and an apron that has the word “Paradiso” printed in fancy, red writing.
“Hello and welcome to Paradiso, my name is Antonio and I’ll be your server for the night. Can I get you anything to drink?” he asks politely.
“We’re ready to order actually,” Ned says. She smiles at him pleasantly.
“That’s great, what can I get for you?” he asks pulling a pen and small notepad out of his apron.
“We’ll have two portions of bruschetta and two cannelloni’s, please. Can we also get a glass of your house white wine and one water, please?” He scribbles down the order and then looks up at us.
“That’s not a problem ma’am. Would you like me to bring a serving of olives to the table while you are waiting for your starters?”
Ned looks at me for confirmation. I, at least, know what an olive is so I nod my head and she turns back to Antonio. “Please,” she says with a smile. He takes our menus and disappears with promises to be back shortly with our drinks and olives.
“Well, that was hard work,” I state as Ned stares at me with a smile on her face.
“Thanks,” she says.
“For what?”
“Telling me about your mother.”
“Yeah.” I breathe, amazed that she knows how big a deal that was.
“So,
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