After the shower and the drive — where Ty made banter with Azael, not putting pressure on me to talk but looking over and involving me in the conversation — I was starting to feel more human. There was still a little bit of fog, but I felt more grounded, less like I was about to tip over the edge of a cliff into a deep dark abyss.
The place Ty took me to was an Italian pasta food truck, parked in a lot strung with fairy lights, and with Italian flags hung on the fences around the lot. It was adjacent to a derelict petrol station, but it seemed that the food truck was more popular than the fuel.
When we got there, the picnic tables scattered around the lot were almost full, and there was already a handful of people in the line.
"You alright to wait, little bird?"
I nodded, already eyeing up the 'Not-cream Creamy Carbonara' plastered on the menu beside the window.
"Do you think I could ask them to do it with real bacon instead of the fake stuff?" I asked Ty.
"I'm sure you could. I know the manager, I'm sure he'd be more than happy to make anything you requested."
"Dairy free garlic bread?" I asked hopefully. He chuckled.
"Robin, if you'll look past the carbonara you might actually see it's already on the menu."
I followed where he was pointing, to find the red and green menu reading 'Vegan Olive-oil toasted garlic sourdough' alongside the other sides.
"Okay, this place is too good to be true," I said, shaking my head in disbelief.
"Relax," Ty laughed. "You haven't tasted it yet."
"I don't need to, I'm already in heaven," I stated, with a grin.
"Well, I'd tell you to curb your expectations but I've tasted it, and this is quite possibly the greatest pasta in Sydney."
We were coming to the front of the line as he said that, and I heard a deep, hearty chuckle from inside the truck. A young, kind-looking man with cropped brown hair and facial hair came into view, smiling down at us.
"Tyson, Tyson, you flatter me. Let the poor girl make a judgement for herself, no?"
He had a stilted accent, similar to Ty's grandmother earlier that day. I wondered if they were related. Then again, Ty had called her Nonna, so maybe he just had an Italian background, and that was the connection.
"Robin, this is Elio Romano," Ty introduced, "He's the chef and brains of this fine operation."
"Eh, chef, si," Elio replied, "Brains, no. Mia moglie... Lei e una donna intelligente."
"His wife is the smart one," Ty explained to me.
"You can speak Italian?" I said, surprised.
"Of course!" Elio laughed. "What kind of mob boss would he be if he didn't?"
My heart skipped a beat, but from the way Ty scowled, I figured it was a joke. Maybe.
"I know enough to understand it, but not to speak it well," Ty said. "But anyway, we're holding up the line Elio. Can we order?"
"Of course, of course! Give me all your dirty money," He said with a wink.
Ty just rolled his eyes. "Aight, Robin wants a vegan carbonara, but with real bacon not the fake shit. Make it a large, we'll share."
"Not-vegan vegan pasta, got it," Elio said, scratching it onto a pad. "Anything else?"
"Two lots of garlic sourdough, and... what do you want to drink, uccellino?"
YOU ARE READING
Hiding Sparrows
RomanceShe's trying to escape a dark past. He's threatening to pull her back in. ~~~ "You messed up, little bird. So now, you're going to fix it." He smirked at me, stepping closer, so that his face was inches from mine. I could smell nicotine on his brea...
