Unforeseen

Chapter XVI

The clock read a quarter to six by the time I had the chance to look at it. During my final moments, I used that time on the finishing touches of my hair and straightening of my outfit in the mirror, that's about all I had time for before Gabriele would bearriving. I quickly did a last check on the rooms to make sure everything was in its place and clean,before heading for the kitchen to begin pulling out some basic cooking tools. I wasn't quite sure what Gabriele had in mind for us to cook tonight. So, Itried to cover all the bases by taking a wild guessthat we would most likely need a bowl, plate, spatula, cutting knife, and oven mitts. Taking another glance at the clock I found there to only be a few minutes left until my guest would be arriving. But before I could conjure up my next thought a knock came, signifying that he had arrived and that our evening was about to begin.

I was sure to have a small smile to greet Gabriele with as I opened the door. He too had a slight smile on his face as he held up the grocery bags that were in each hand. I invited him in while checking out his outfit. He was certainly dressed for the occasion, clean-cut suit pants, high collared shirt 116with a light jacket over top, which he quickly removed once he sat the bags on the counter.

"Is it okay if I hang my jacket on the chair?" he asked pointing at one of the two. 

"Uh...yes...go ahead." 

"I hope this doesn't come off strange but I must tell you that you look beautiful tonight." His eyes never left mine to trace over my body and I wondered when he had the time to really look at me. "Is that a new dress?" 

Watching my hands run down over my outfit, I began to laugh before peering up at his face and seeing the seriousness. 

"I...uh...well...no it's not a new dress. I've had it for a while now. I mean–come now, I wasn't going to go out and get a new outfit to mark the occasion or anything." I tried to make light of the question but unfortunately, my eye-rolling got the best of me. 

"Why not?" He cocked his head to one side while looking at me, almost confused by my response. "I bought this attire new tonight, something fresh," he said while motioning his handover his outfit, in a show-off kind of way. 

 It was at this point I really didn't know what to say, was he between the lines rubbing it in my face that he had gone out and bought new apparel for our dinner? Was he nonchalantly making fun of me for not? He seemed stuck somewhere between being both insistent that I should have and disappointed that I hadn't.

"Moving on!" I heard him say, interrupting my questioning thoughts. "The last thing I want is for this to get any kind of awkward tonight so, where were we? You look as if you're nearly done emptying the bags onto the counter. Can you take a guess what we are going to make?" 

"I think it's safe to say we are making spaghetti. But what are all these other ingredients for?" I asked, running my hand over the items laid out on the counter. 

He walked slowly towards me, keeping perfect eye contact as he did. The way Gabriele held my eyes with his was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. His face gave away nothing that may be on his mind. His mouth was made up of the slightest smile, caught somewhere between the lines of sweet and poisonous. Reaching me he began his story.

When I was a little boy, my family lived in Southern Italy. I remember my mama was always cooking. I can still smell the food even now. She was quite the perfectionist you see, not just with food but with all things. The way she looked, the 118way she cleaned, with her gardening, and her olive trees. Being this way made her...selective with her produce picking. One meal my papa favored of hers was her spaghetti, everything was homemade, from the sauce down to the noodles. Anyway, you're probably wondering why I am babbling on, boring you with this story. I thought it would be something if we attempted to recreate my mama's spaghetti sauce for our dinner. Obviously, I know it's not going to be exactly the same. It won't be as freshand she had a way with food, but I think it could still come out good, what do you think?"

His story was so gentle and refreshing that I couldn't help but be kind to him. "First of all, I want to tell you that you didn't bore me with your story, and second I would love to try to make the sauce with you." 

And with that, the biggest smile I ever received from him spread slowly across his face. His eyes sparkled like a child getting just what they wanted for Christmas. 

"Well then let's not stand here wasting anymore time...let us begin!" Rubbing his hands together he kept that happy grin. I could see how excited he was and how proud he felt. His feelings filled the room with so much positive emotion it was hard not to be happy. 

I let Gabriele instruct me along the way with what he needed additionally utensil-wise and cookware. He was kind in the way he talked to mewhen asking for things, gentle with his instructionsof what to add to the pan and how much, this was nothing like the side I saw before. He didn't seem to mind either that we continuously bumped into each other every time one of us had to turn for something because we were working in such a tight space together. I would've guessed over time he would've gotten irritated with me about it or just irritated in general at the area we had to work with. 

Throughout the evening I could feel myself being pulled closer and closer to him, but that's what bothered me the most was that I saw the worst in him, saw how he could be and what that other half became. During our creation, I was pronounced the master stirrer, and he was the taste tester, which I didn't mind since he knew what his mother's sauce tasted like, not I. He was pretty focused on getting it as close to hers as we could and I liked that, it sounded heavenly.

I also didn't complain because even though he was deemed the taste tester he always let me have a spoonful along the way with every change we made. As we stirred the sauce, we continued addinga pinch of this and that when needed until it was as 120close to hers as what we could get it. While we ate, I begged Gabriele to tell me stories of his childhood. If I would've asked him this early on, I think he would've been reluctant to do so. But now we had almost broken down a sort of barrier between us that I could actually call us friends. I think he could feel that too because he gladly started at the beginning and filled me in on all thestories throughout his life, up until now. 

His childhood sounded strikingly similar to something I had heard before, but I just couldn't place from where? Adulthood however was a different matter at hand, it seemed the closer we got to recent times, the harder it became for him to talk about. Something troubled him deeply, and it was apparent he wasn't ready to talk about it yet. I didn't push the matter as to not ruin our dinner or the so-called progress we had made.

At the end of the evening, Gabriele helped me to clean up the dishes and put them back where they belonged. I made up a plate for him to take home since he became obsessed with the sauce and proud that we were able to get it as close as he could remember. He was excited that I did and complimented me on being so considerate. I had intended on walking him down to the bottom of the steps, but he insisted that it was late, and he would 121rather us just say goodbye at the door so he knew I was safely inside for the night. This I thought was quite caring of him.

While he pulled on his jacket, I grabbed the plate and tugged open the door, holding it for him as he swiftly made his way over. As he exited, I handed him the plate and he leaned in and gave mea kiss on the cheek. It all happened so quickly and unexpectedly that my mouth slipped out the words, "Oh." 

"Was that not appropriate?" he asked, "I thought it might be too much if I kissed you on the lips." 

Stammering, all I could manage to say was, "No...no, yes...it's fine and you're right the lips would've been too much." 

Leaning my head against the door we stared at each other for one more brief moment. 

"You're so beautiful when you blush," he said while stroking my cheek with the back of his hand, "Goodnight Abriana." 

I closed the door tightly behind him as I smiled at the fact that this was the first time, he said my name. I liked the way he spoke my name, it sounded good coming from him. His voice had that Italian way of making it sound so beautiful rolling off his tongue, making me miss my motherlandmomentarily.