You Are My Wildest Dream

Cucciola (Puppy)

No one moved a muscle after I proclaimed what Hannah and I were now; lovers, girlfriends, two peas in a pod. Hannah stayed in place with her hands on my shoulders while looking at me with a daydream glaze over her eyes, wondering to herself if I truly just said what I said. Paris, on the other hand, leaned against the doorframe trying to take in what she already assumed but also couldn't believe to be true now that it was said. I kept looking back at each one of them waiting for something, anything to be said.

This moment consisted of me finally doing the heavy lifting and doing what scared me for once, so was someone going to say something? I laughed at my own thoughts with amusement, and decided to be the one to speak up, again. "Sooooo, we all good?" I let out with a confident laugh. Silence filled again for a few seconds, then Paris begin to slowly walk out of the doorway. "Oh, yeah, yes, I. I mean, I figured, and hoped, and knew, about all this," Paris started to wave at the both of us signaling Hannah and I were the "all this" she was talking about. She continued, "But now that I know that it's real and here and standing in my kitchen with fresh pasta and a Disney movie on standby? I couldn't be any more happier for the two of you and for getting to hear the news. I love you girls. And I also love you girls, together." Paris, with dainty tears forming in her eyes, began to walk closer to Hannah and I. Once she reached us in the kitchen, she put her arms around the both of us for a tight group hug. I peaked down at Hannah as she closed her eyes to feel the hug more. I wondered if this was a moment where she finally felt the true care of a partner and the love of a family member, even if Paris wasn't blood-related it didn't matter; she is her family.

After our Hallmark-movie esque embrace, Hannah spoke up and quickly wiped the tears from her eyes, "Okay, okay. I admit, that was semi-sorta-beautfiul, okay? Now, everyone needs to get off of me as there is pasta in my bowl and it's calling my name, waiting eagerly to be topped." As we all pulled away from the hug, I couldn't help but make a comment to Hannah's statement. I watched her turn around to pick up her bowl from the counter and then made my way behind her. Slowly, I snaked my arms around her and rested my chin on her shoulder. I begin whispering each of my words as they slowly rolled off my lips, brushing just barely on her ear, "Your pasta isn't the only thing begging to be topped, I can promise you that."  I planted such a faint kiss on the top of her cheekbone that I wanted it to be mistaken for a feather. I released my arms from her waist and made my way back over to the counter for my own bowl. Yes, I'm always so riled up for Hannah, but right now I'm also so riled up for this damn pasta. 

I scooped up some angel hair and immediately felt nostalgic for my childhood in Italy. Growing up between there and America, you get all of the pasta in the entire world. Some of my early memories of lunch at the dock while yelling out to my dad on his boat began to swirl my mind. We would both take turns screaming random sounds to each other to hear the way they'd echo back. Afterward, my dad would come back and tie up the boat, then take a seat on the dock with me to discuss the noises. I remember one time he said to me, "That one you made after the second one sounded like a dolphin!" As to which little 9 year old me took the opportunity to say, "Well, I am one, dad!" And leapt into the water from the dock, trying to make the biggest splash as possible, in my clothes and all. 

With an enormous smile now plastered all over my face, I make a mental note to call my family again after dinner to check in, as I'm sure my mom is awaiting that ring. And also, I wanna tell my dad that I'm still a dolphin. 

On my angel hair I add vodka sauce, tri-color tomatoes, a few black olives, fresh basil, and a drizzle of olive oil. I can see out of the corner of my eye Hannah peaking over to slyly judge my bowl. "Hmm.. impressive bowl you got there." She leans in to take a closer look as I just barely feel her hooking her finger through a belt loop in my jeans, "All the colors make it look like a painting; I'm sure it'll be fun to eat. You know, just like me," After Hannah makes her comment, I immediately feel my face getting hot. She notices this, and decides to take it one step further. She takes her hooked finger in my jeans and pushes my body close to hers with it. As I'm standing face to face with her, she releases her finger and uses it to tilt my chin, "You better watch out, Rowan. That little stunt you pulled earlier? With the whispering? I know how to give it right back." She pauses when she sees my face blushing, then puts the back of her hands to each side of my cheeks, like checking the temperature of a hot pot. She continues, "And I can see you know that now."

After our escapades in the kitchen, Hannah and I finally calmed ourselves down enough to finish dressing our pasta, and Paris soon followed in making hers too. We brought our little bowls of art over to the dining table just around the corner of the kitchen. Each taking a seat at the perfectly set table, I take in all of the decor Paris put so much time and effort into curating. There were candles of all sizes lit, placemats in earth tones that looked hand-woven, mini Italian flag toothpicks sticking out of every olive in a bowl, and even a bouquet of flowers. As I watched Hannah and Paris take their seats, I stayed standing at mine. "I just have to say, Paris, thank you for all of this.This is just so damn perfect. The time you put into it, the work it took, the fact that you always do stuff like this—," Paris interrupts me by sticking her pointer finger up in the air, signaling for me to pause. I stay standing there quiet, and a bit confused, but watch her make a soft smile at Hannah as Hannah tries to contain her own laughter about to emerge. Paris slowly lifts up her wine glass and takes a steady sip, then places it back down and says out loud, "Gosh you're precious, and gosh you're so new here. Please, just sit darling. You're so funny." I catch myself blushing for the second time tonight, except in this sense I feel like the teacher's pet. I take a seat and begin to giggle to myself, and as soon as Hannah sees that I'm laughing at myself, she realizes it's okay for her to laugh at me too. She lets out a huge laugh and Paris chimes in with her laughs too. "Rowan babe, you're great, and God you're truly such a puppy," Hannah manages to cough that out between breaks in catching her breath from laughing. With an innocent smile on my face, and also loving the banter over me, I play into their game and ask, "What's so funny?" Paris immediately tries to control her laughter and responds with, "Oh, oh, oh, dear trust me, we aren't laughing like, at you. No, no, no. Just.." She pauses as she finds herself cracking up again and being unable to control it. I see Hannah grab her phone and quickly type something out. She clears her throat and reads from the translator on her screen, "Cucciola! That's you, Rowan!" I begin to laugh again, as cucciola means "puppy" in Italian.