Good choice: T'AINT EASY

 

Ralphie and I are having dinner at our favorite Italian bistro. The Orvieto has already made me warm inside and a little fuzzy in the head. The antipasto I don’t touch as it would surely ruin my appetite for my crisp spinach salad already in front of me and the linguini Alfredo that I could almost die for.

 

Tony, the maitre ‘d, comes from Barcelona, Spain but adopted Tony when he reached his current high station. Al, the accordion player, is nearing our table. Ralphie doesn’t have to tell him what song to play for us as it is always The Isle of Capri. To be honest, he is not very good but knows just about any song that came from Italy or even mentions Rome. The first notes of the Capri song make me go berserk.  I put my elbows on the table, get oil on my silk sleeve and burst out crying. ‘What the heck are you blubbering about, Barbra? You don’t like Al anymore? I’ll give him a buck and ask him to go someplace else.’ He keeps cutting small pieces of his veal scallopini (to make it last longer) and finishes it and the Orvieto at the same time.

 

I get angry when I am scolded for crying and cry harder. ‘What’s wrong, Barbra?’ I hold back my answer because I know Ralphie will get angry at me. He quizzically asks me again and I blurt out, ‘Mrs. Davis died this afternoon. ‘ ’Mrs. Davis? Who the devil is she, a lost aunt you never mentioned, a college pal?’‘ Don’t make fun of my feelings. She was my patient in 401. I remember telling you about her and knowing you were paying a dime’s worth attention to me. Don’t I listen to you when you bitch your secretary stays out on sick leave and isn’t sick, when a big client balks at your bill?’

 

My fettuccine is only half eaten. It’s cold and pasty. I push it aside.
Barbra, want a cappuccino , a piece of cheese cake?’ I open my purse , take out a few fresh tissues and my lipstick, just to freshen my lips again.  ‘Let’s just go home, Ralphie. I can’t help be depressed. Mrs. Davis was only 29 and left beautiful 3 year old twins. Her husband was killed in Iraq. A cousin told me the girls may be tossed back and forth for a while between two aunts. If you’d see those aunts, you’d cry too. No, I guess you wouldn’t. Sometimes you are stone cold-hearted.’

 

Ralphie wipes his lips on his red checked napkin, takes my hand across the table and smooths it until a calm comes over me. He lets go long enough to pay the check and slides my chair out for me. As we waited in the vestibule for valet service to bring our car around I notice one tiny wet spot on Ralphie’s cheek. Was it wine or a tear? I decide it was a single, draw myself closer to him and whisper in his ear, ‘I’m sorry, Darling, really sorry. That’s all I can say. I’m sorry.’

 

The valet pulls up just as my man is hugging me, kissing my ears. We are not embarrassed. He stands there silently, waiting for his tip.
As soon as he gets it, closer the driver’s door, Ralphie takes my hand again, pecks at it and slowly admits he was callous . ‘I apologize Barbra.
What do you say to let’s go home and make our own twins.’ ‘Good idea,
Ralphie.’

 

Our evening wasn’t lousy after all.