Lessons Learned, Healing Hearts

Sustaining the Soul (Chapter 33)

"Did you have any luck?" Piero asked, pulling Marlow's chair out for her. Certain that she would say no, shock registered on his face when she answered, "I did."

"I hope you didn't pay a lot for it."

"No, I only brought you a pair of socks," she lied, setting her purse on the ground between her feet.

"Socks? Can I see them?"

"Later. Now sit down, and let's order lunch. I'm starved."

***

"Would you like to try some of this?" Piero asked, sliding his plate of seafood and pasta closer to him.

Seeing opened shells mixed with pasta, her mouth filled with saliva, but not for the right reason.

"No, thank you. I'm not big into shellfish."

"You live near an ocean and don't like shellfish?"

"I don't."

"Are you allergic to it?"

"No, I just don't like it. Recounting a childhood memory of walking on the beach with her mother and witnessing a man consume oysters straight from the shell, Marlow involuntarily shivered. "Just thinking about it now makes me feel ill."

Twirling his fork, Piero leaned over his plate. Savouring the flavours of shrimp, mussels, and clams in a garlic tomato sauce, he closed his eyes and smiled.

"Mmm, magnifico."

In an attempt to change Marlow's mind, Piero offered her a taste.

"Give it a try. You might like this," he encouraged, pulling up more linguini than seafood.

With great reservation, Marlow reluctantly leaned forward. Holding it in her mouth for a second or two, she forced herself to chew. While there was not a strong seafood taste, the chewy texture of the shellfish did not appeal to her. Consuming without chewing too long, she appreciated the slipperiness of the pasta and sauce.

"How was it?"

Reaching for her glass of water, Marlow scrunched her nose and shrugged. Trying to discreetly clean her palette with a bite of bread, she politely said it wasn't bad, but it was still not something she would want to eat a whole plate of.

"Would you like more?"

Responding, "No, thank you," too quickly, Marlow dropped her gaze when Piero stifled his laughter. Digging into her own pasta lunch, this was more her style; tender chicken smothered in heavy cream, sundried tomatoes, and mushrooms. It was pure comfort food and fully satisfied her love of carbs. Devouring it, she didn't bother offering Piero any, and he didn't bother to ask. Maybe he remembered her saying to never come between her carbs and her, or perhaps he was enjoying his lunch more. Next time, she would make sure to at least offer to share.

***

Strolling through the charming streets of Milan, Marlow listened attentively as Piero shared fascinating stories and historical facts. Trying to capture the grandeur and emotion that the city had on her soul, she quickly realized that no photograph or video could accurately capture the emotion of Milan's treasures. Three hours later, tracing her finger along a tile insert on the bench they were sitting on, jet lag had again caught up with her. Removing her hat and sunglasses, she wiped away the beads of sweat that tickled her brow. Glancing at Piero, she sulked. It wasn't fair. He looked like a gorgeous sun god, and she felt like a mess of mortal flesh that couldn't wait to return to the comfort of an air-conditioned room.

***

Falling onto the bed like a rag doll, legs dangling lifelessly over the edge, Marlow asked, "How long does this jet lag last?"