Finding You.

CHAPTER 28

SOMILA

Aya meets me on the semi-circled stairs outside. He's dressed in a Navy tshirt, white sweatpants and white Nike air force sneakers. "Hey." he says when he approaches me. I sense he's as nervous as I am. "Hi." I reply.

He stands in front of me in a blink of an eye. I can smell the familiar Vanilla and oak scent I've come to know so much. "You look beautiful Somila Klaas."
     "Thank you Aya." I haven't met his eyes since I got here. "Shall we go in?" I nod, unsure of myself.. and he allows me to lead the way. Once I'm inside, scents of rosemary hit my nose.

"I cooked... that's if you want to stay for dinner. Sam went to an orthodontist's conference in Hartebeesport, so... it's just us." He's rambling, it's so damned cute.
"It smells great, thank you." He leads me into the dining room and it dawns on me that I've never actually sat in here before.

The table is set beautifully with white plates, shiny cutlery and four sparkling long stem wine glasses. There are jasmine-scented candles in the centre of the table, and the light has been slightly dimmed. An ice bucket holds a bottle of what looks like rosè wine.

He holds out a chair for me to take a seat, then he pours me a glass of the rosé wine and goes into the kitchen. I'm alone with my thoughts for a while. My hands shaky and my palms sweating as the anxiety continues to grip at every part of me.

He returns, bearing a slow-warmer dish and a casserole bowl, dishing up for the both of us then placing a full plate in front of me. It smells so divine that I'm reminded, I haven't eaten the entire day because I was so nervous.

"Thank you, this looks delicious." I say as he takes a seat opposite from me. "Is this lamb?" I ask, trying to fill the silence that has been surrounding us. "Yes ma'am, Persian lamb tagine"
"Sounds fancy." If he's trying to bribe me, it might be working. "Well, my mother taught me this recipe, the stew is spiced with cinnamon and cumin, and sweetened with apricots and dates." He explains, but I know I won't remember the details of the dish.

We eat our food with casual conversation, careful not to touch the sensitive topics. The couscous is fluffy and goes well with the stewed lamb, I can't help the moans that escape my mouth. When we're done, I help him clear up the table but he tells me not to worry about the dishes.

"Mila... I want to show you something." he says, taking my hand. He leads me down the hallway into his art studio. In there, he stops near a covered painting. "I've been working on this since the day we came back from Mpumalanga... it's not much, but I think I did this for you... I didn't know what it would turn out be when I began. I think this is a memory of mine... but I can't quite place it. Anyway..."

I can tell he's really nervous, the look in his eye seems distant, as if he's reminiscing. I'm anxious to see what it is that is so important, that makes all the confidence he carries so easily, falter. "Aya what is it?" I'm not sure what to expect... a painting of us, or maybe even pancakes, tea and bacon - something cheesy, a private joke, but when he takes away the white linen cover, what I see is nothing I've ever expected.

In front of me is a painting of a lighthouse with red and white walls, below the lighthouse are a few big rocks in different shades of brown and then different shades of blue waves crash below the rocks, making it look really beautiful and captivating... like something taken right out of a photograph.

"Aya... wow, this is... beguiling. I have no words."
    "You like it?" He asks, clearly waiting to hear my opinion. "Aya, I love it!" I literally see him letting out a breath he's been holding in. "Do you want to know what it means?"
       "Of course I do." my mouth responds before my brain catches up.