The blonde waitress walks up to the table that sits unstable on the cobblestone streets of Rome in November.
“What will you two be having tonight then?” She asks in her best English.
“A cosmopolitan, triple sec, cranberry juice, hint of lime. And I’ll take a gin and tonic please,” the man responds.
“Very well then, be right back with those.”
The petite girl walks away.
“I could’ve gone for a glass of red tonight but I guess that’s fine,” the woman says in a tone that seems annoyed but not enough to express it. The man looks up faintly raising his hand in slow motion seeming like he’s almost waiting for the woman to interrupt. And she does.
“It’s fine, really. The cosmopolitan sounds lovely.”
“Ok, very well then. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start our night out off like this.”
“Start off like what?”
“Like this," he motions back and forth between them as if there’s a glass panel in the way.
“The same way it always is when I try to do something for you.” He finishes.
“Do something for me? You mean speak to the cute blonde for me? Why thank you for that.”
“Geez here we go again, I was really hoping tonight would be different but I seem to forget who I married.”
“Different how?”
“Here we go with the questions. Different how? Different how?” His tone of voice changes every time he repeats the same question. She doesn’t answer either of the times.
“Do you want the wine? If you want the wine I’ll go tell her. One second.” He stands. The chair makes a screeching noise.
“For the third time, no thank you. I am fine with the cocktail, and see look” she points. “She already made them so it’s too late anyway.”
The waitress walks up to the table again, this time with a drink in each hand and some bread in a basket under her arm.
“My wife would like to send this back, a glass of your finest red instead, please. Don’t worry about the cost I will cover it.”
“Frank, I said no.” The woman reaches for the recently set-down drink that is already forming a ring on the wooden table and takes a sip.
“It’s delicious, thank you.”
The waitress looks confused but just asks them if they are ready to order. They both say yes. The woman orders the seafood pasta special and he gets the eight-ounce filet mignon. Medium rare, of course.
“I knew you were going to order the special from the moment we walked in.”
“Oh you did, did you? Just like you knew I wanted a cosmopolitan,” she says. Pain flashes across his eyes.
“I’m sorry that was rude of me. I apologize. I miss the days when we could actually crack jokes with each other.”
“So, do I.”
“Why don’t we do that? That is one of the things Melissa advised us to do.”
“Melissa is full of shit, we’re practically giving our money to a lunatic.”
“Oh Frank, please not this again.”
“Fine ok fine, do you want to go first?”
“I don’t think I know any jokes.”
“Ok well, I did see one on my iPad today. Let’s see.” He pauses for a second as if trying to remember what it was.
“Yes, I remember. Ok here it goes: One man walks into a bar,” he pauses. “The second one ducks.”
It takes her a second but out of nowhere the woman starts lightly chuckling.
“Sorry, it wasn’t funny. I knew it, I don’t even know why I said it.”
“No really, I enjoyed it. It feels as if we haven’t done something like this in forever.”
“Well, it’s your turn now.”
“I told you. I don’t know any jokes.”
“Ok then, just say something funny. Make me laugh.”
She sits there for almost too long, but suddenly takes a deep breath and then begins to speak.
“Remember that night we spent in the small hostel in Verona? That is still one of my favorite memories to this day.” The man smiles clearly remembering.
“No, I can’t say that I do. Please elaborate,” he is clearly teasing her.
“Fine.” She smiles wider. “That night, I told you I was going to get snacks but I hid in the bathtub and scared you when you walked into the bathroom. I still wish you could’ve seen your face. Oh, Frank, you were as white as a ghost.”
The man isn’t laughing but his smile is so genuine there’s almost a glint in his eye.
