Page 17 of Better Than Gelato
The lights go out, and we settle into our seats. The pit orchestra starts a rousing opening song, and the curtain lifts to reveal a lovely setting in the park. We see a beautiful young woman sitting on a bench reading a book. She turns the pages, oblivious to the man staring at her from three benches over. Finally, he gets up and walks toward her on a cobblestone path. The music swells as he bursts into song. He says he thinks she’s pretty, and he wonders what she ate for lunch.Wait, I don’t think that’s right...
“Paolo,” I whisper, leaning toward him. “What did he say?”
“He said he thinks she’s pretty and wonders if she is free for lunch,” he whispers back.
“Thanks,” I lean back in my seat.
The man and the woman are standing now, and she starts singing. Her voice is high and loud. She says she would love to go to lunch with him, but first she has to get her teeth checked.Hmm. That seems weird.
The two walk down the cobblestone path, singing a lovely duet. The song finishes and they climb into the gondola of a Ferris wheel.
The young man leans in and brushes some hair away from her face. Then he starts to sing about how all his life he’s dreamed of finding the right cheese. She’s nodding her head like she’s had the same problem. I think I’ve missed something.
“Paolo,” I whisper again. “Why has he been searching for cheese his whole life?”
Paolo, who has just taken a sip of water, snorts half of it out of his nose. There’s a lot of coughing and sniffing mixed with laughter.
“Notformaggio,” he says. “Por algo. He hasn’t been searching for cheese his whole life, he’s been searching for something his whole life.” He narrows his eyes. “You’re not understanding much of this are you?”
I think about faking it, but instead say, “Nope.”
“Okay,” he says, smiling and leaning in. “Let me tell you what is happening so far.”
We spend the rest of the play this way, leaning close and whispering back and forth. It should feel romantic, but instead, it feels like girls camp when the counselors turned the lights off and me and Maggie stay up talking. It feels like friendship, in the best way. By the time the lights come up, something easy and wonderful has settled into place between us.
Paolo takes me by the arm and escorts me to his car. A September moon hangs low and bright in the sky and the air is just starting to smell like fall. The trip home goes by too quickly and when Paolo turns the car off, instead of getting out, I say, “Tell me about all the great things to do in Milan.”
“Well, there’s some good shopping, as you’ve seen,” Paolo says. “Eating is a favorite pastime in this city. There are art museums and lovely parks. Two weekends ago, Carmen dragged us to some hiking trails outside the city.”
I can’t picture Paolo hiking. “How was that?”
“Not my favorite,'' he says. “But sometimes you just go along with the group. They love hiking. Valentina had on these big old hiking boots and a truly terrible hat.”
I think about when Paolo mentioned Valentina on her bike. I try to remember Paolo interacting with her at the opera and Calypso. My gut is filling in some gaps.
“So you’re in love with Valentina, huh?”
Paolo’s eyes go wide, and his body goes still. “What? No, I’m not. That’s crazy.”
“How long?” I ask.
There’s a pause. “A year.” He sighs. “But it feels like a lifetime.”
“Did you ask me on this date to make her jealous?” I ask, turning to face him squarely.
“No, I truly wanted to get to know you,” he says.
I give him a look.
“Iannouncedwe were going on a date to make Valentina jealous. That’s just taking advantage of the good timing.”
I groan and elbow him in the ribs. “Paolo!”
“I’ve been in love with the same girl for a year, to no avail! When a lovely American distraction comes strolling into my life, of course I’m going to ask her out.”
I make a harrumph sound.
“Are you saying you wish I hadn’t asked you out?” he asks.
