COMPOSE YOUR OWN PASTA
40
Jack : How was your night? And your whole day?
Prudence : A little teary.
Prudence : I’m okay now.
Jack : You’re coming with us tonight?
Prudence : I’m good. I’m not ready to just talk and pretend like the last ten years didn’t happen.
Jack : We’ll probably just catch up.
Jack : Ikram is coming with me.
Jack : What will you do?
Prudence : Probably go hang out with Evie.
Jack : Okay.
Jack : By the way…
Prudence : Yeah?
Jack : I had sex with Ikram
Jack : I mean, kind of. Not SEX sex, but we did… Stuff.
Prudence : Wow… What happened to waiting?
Jack : No more waiting. We’re living in the moment.
Prudence : You’re feeling okay?
Jack : Amazing.
PRUDENCE
My hands are clammy. I’m tempted to just slide them in my pockets and pretend Nate is not handing me his, just so he doesn’t know how anxious I am.
Should I discreetly wipe them off on my jacket at least?
“Not that watching you internally freaking out about taking my hand isn’t really entertaining, but—”
“Right, yeah! Sorry,” I say, shaking my head in shame.
I step forward to leave my hotel room, closing the door behind me. I adjust my bag on my shoulder and nod. With a determined exhale, I grab his hand and interlace my fingers through his.
“Why are you freaking out?” He asks as we start walking towards the elevator.
“Not freaking out. My hands are clammy and I was embarrassed.”
He lifts a brow, turning his head slightly towards me with a playful smile.
“They’re not clammy.”
“They’re not?” I frown, confused.
“Well, maybe a little.”
I pull on my hand, a blush creeping up my cheeks, but he doesn’t let go, letting out a soft laugh.
“Hmhm, you gave me your hand, I’m keeping it for now.” He grins, as we step into the elevator. “Random feeling of the day? Contrary to what you might think, I’m not someone who goes around punching people.” I give him a pointed look. “But I really wanted to push your father off his hospital bed yesterday, and I can’t seem to feel guilty about it.”
I stifle a laugh at the mental picture. “I’m not sure I would have done anything to stop you, to be honest.” The elevator stops and we step out, heading out without lingering in the lobby. My smile drops when I continue. “I knew our visit wouldn’t be appreciated, but what he said to Jack…”
“Yeah,” Nate sighs. “It’s… It’s all fucked up.”
We step in the street, our mood significantly darker than it was two minutes ago.
“Let’s not talk about this anymore,” I say as we start to walk. “We all came here because Jack wanted to. I think, even if the talk went poorly, he got the closure he wanted.” The closure he needed. “And I don’t want to talk about what was said with our siblings or the way I cried against your chest. Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen for now.”
“So, where are we headed?” Nate asks, not pushing it further. “I’ve never been to Aspen other than a couple of weeks in the winter to ski with my parents.”
“You never visited?”
“Not really. We went skiing, then ate at our hotel, then repeated the process over two long weeks.”
I turn my face to look at him. There’s nothing on his face indicating he enjoyed that time.
“You don’t like to ski?”
He shrugs. “I don’t hate it,” he pauses, seemingly lost in thoughts. “Let’s just say that I wasn’t allowed to just stay in my room to do something else. I had to come with them no matter if I wanted to or not.”
I would definitely hate it too. Like the pictures we were all forced to take on Christmas… Can’t stand it now.
“But honestly, when I see your parents, I don’t feel like complaining about mine…” He adds with a wince.
“Come on, they are pretty shitty parents, but it doesn’t mean there are not worse or equally bad parents anywhere else.”
“I know. But mine are not as bad. Definitely not parents of the year, but I mostly can’t complain.”
Meaning they haven’t ignored, disowned, belittled, lied, or spat at his face. What an achievement.
A little gush of wind makes me tighten my jacket around me. We’re a far cry from L.A here, with a windy 66 degrees. It changes from the oven feeling of California.
“Are you cold?” Nate asks, a concerned look on his face.
“No, I’m fine. I was surprised by the wind.” He narrows his eyes at me before shrugging off his black denim Jacket. “Oh, no, no! I swear I’m okay, and you’ll get cold if—”
“I’m not cold. And I still have my sweater, so I’ll be fine.”
He drapes the jacket over my shoulder and our eyes meet. Intense blues against wide browns.
“Thank you,” I murmur, not able to look away.
He leans closer. Slowly. So, so slowly, one of his hands reaching for the side of my neck, cupping my jaw.
It’s only been forty eight hours since our date, but we haven’t been alone—let alone kissed—since he dropped me at the house.
His lips are soft against mine, moving slowly, like he’s worried I’ll be spooked if he goes too fast. His tongue barely brushes mine when I deepen our kiss.
And yet, when we stop, we’re both holding our breath for a few heartbeats, our foreheads pressing against one another, our breaths mingling as we stand still in the middle of the sidewalk.
“You look hot wearing my clothes,” he simply says, a soft smile stretching his lips.
“It’s just a jacket.”
“I’m also referring to that time you wore one of my shirts. Without a bra.”
I grin, biting my lip. “Did you know that I was also not wearing panties that morning?”
His breath catches in his throat. “Fuck sweetness, you’re killing me.”
He gives me a peck on the forehead and we start to walk again, only stopping when we arrive in front of a restaurant. A place that was special for Jack and I.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe they’re still open!” I squeak, jumping from excitement.
Nate looks between me and the green-ish wooden door with a confused tilt of his head.
I reach for the floral pattern painted on the frame with my free hand and smile. “I painted these. And a lot more stuff inside.”
“Why?” Nate asks, stepping closer so he doesn’t have to let go of my hand.
“Jack and I spent a lot of time here. Most of our free time, really. This is where the Storytelling game started,” I grin, turning my face towards him.
He cocks a brow. “The storytelling game?”
“Come on, let’s go inside. I’m starving!” I grab the handle to push the door and my smile deepens when it opens, like I was worried it would be closed for some reason. “Oh, I wish they still served their ‘compose your own pasta’…”
“You want to eat pasta for our second date?” He snorts, but follows me closely.
“I told you you can never go wrong with pasta. I actually love them.”
He closes the door behind us, and I can’t help the giddy jumps when I look around the small cramped room.
It’s perfect. Hasn’t changed a bit in ten years.
Without leaving my spot, my gaze jumps from one painted table to another, to the chairs, parts of the wall, counter, bar, bathroom doors. To all the chaotic mix of color and patterns that I’ve added while Jack was talking to me or writing, just because we didn’t want to come home after class or on the weekend.
To the table, painted over and over again where Jack and I first started to play and our first story was created. To the five patrons already seated around the room and eating.
“Hello, lovebirds! Do you—Prudence?”
I turn abruptly towards the voice and the old man it belongs to, surprise stretching his face, his dark, wrinkled eyes opening wide. He’s still wearing one of his favored colorful cardigans and corduroy pants.
“Oh my god… It is you! Scarlett!” Claudio calls, turning slightly towards the kitchen. “Come here, you won’t believe this!”
He turns back to me taking a step forward, his surprise morphing into pure joy. He stops at our level, opening his arms. I don’t hesitate a second before nestling in his comforting embrace. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’ll bring Jack back here.
“The food won’t cook itself, ya’ know?” says another approaching familiar voice, before freezing. “Oh, are we huggin’ women in the middle of service, now?”
Her strong accent is nothing but comfort to my ears, as she spent hours talking and reassuring Jack and I when we were young teens. Her voice will always be etched into my memories.
Claudio turns around, still holding me, pulling me—and poor Nate who’s still holding my hand—with him towards a frowning Scarlett whose face softens when she recognizes me.
“Prudence!” She sings. “Oh my goodness, it’s so good to see you! Come here, I want a hug too.”
She takes a couple of steps forwards, her arms open wide and hands waving in quick motions towards her.
She smells just like I remember. Like warm, crisp bread, melted butter, and oregano. She envelops me with her whole small round self, sighing in happiness.
“What are you doing back here?” She asks. “And where’s Jack? Is he waiting outside or… Ooooh, and who’s that handsome lad?”
She beams at Nate, giving me a wink.
“It’s just the two of us,” I smile shyly.
“I’m Nate,” he says with a respectful Nod, handing his free hand to shake theirs. “Nice to meet you.”
“Is that your fiance?” Claudio asks in my ear, in a whisper way too loud for Nate to not have heard it.
“Oh, no. We’re—”
I stutter. What are we? Back at tipsy turtle, we were pretending to be dating and he let me define what we were supposed to be. But we’re not pretending anymore…
“We’re, uh… on a date,” I say slowly, and nod in agreement with myself when I realize that it’s enough of an explanation for now. We are on a date. “Our second date, to be more specific.”
“And you bring him here ?” Scarlet asks, clapping her hands together happily now that she’d let me go. “Go sit at your table, sweetheart. We’ll bring you the menus.”
They both squeeze my shoulder affectionately before going back to their respective tasks.
I lead Nate to the window table, where Jack’s name and mine are still engraved on one of the legs and I smile as I slide my hands on the roughly carved letters.
“This place is nice,” Nate says, pulling out my chair for me to sit. “Did you paint the furniture too?”
“I did.” I nod, sitting. “We came here a lot, and they basically always fed us for free. Jack wrote most of his first book at that table while I was painting everything.”
He takes the seat in front of me and studies the room. It’s cluttered and completely chaotic with all the strange items from another time, overgrown plants, and bright colors everywhere. A far cry from Nate’s minimalist and tidy home…
“We stumbled in once because we were seeking shelter from the rain on our way back from school. They served us hot cocoa while we waited for the weather to settle a little, and we came back nearly everyday after that.”
“You were escaping your family?” He asks softly.
“Yeah,” I pause, looking at Claudio getting busy with drinks behind the counter. “Scarlett and Claudio felt… Safer.”
“They look like they care about you.”
“To be honest, I think they do. More than our actual parents—although, that’s not hard.” I chuckle dryly. “But every time we stopped by after school, they asked how our day was, to see the results of our papers, and helped us with homeworks when we did them here…” Which our parents never did. None of it.
“They scolded and encouraged us for things that mattered. Jack came out to me here, in front of them. They hugged him and told him they loved him for who he was. I’m not even sure our parents told us they loved us even once in our life.
“ And ,” I add, pointing at the blackboard behind me with my thumb. “They named two of their deserts after us.”
He looks at it, narrowing his eyes to read better. I don’t even bother turning. One of the first things I checked upon entering the restaurant was the board.
And it’s still on the desert menu. Written in rainbow chalks.
Jack’s Favorite:
Compose your pride Waffle!
Choose your colors and toppings and be proud of who you are 3
Prue’s Heart Fillers:
Get 5, 10, or 20!
Choose the filling and fill your soul with mini heart donuts 3
Nate smiles, shaking his head softly.
“I was crazy about their little donuts, and Jack loved waffles. He still does, but he’s always upset that we can never find some as good as here.”
“I’ll have to try those, then.”
Claudio stops next to our table, handing us the little plastic menus. “What do you kids want to drink first?”
“I’ll have a Dr Pepper,” I ask with a smile.
“Same for me, please.”
“Do you want the list of our ingredients of the day?” Claudio asks me with a knowing smile. “I’m guessing you’re composing your pasta?”
“Definitely,” I giggle, taking the small blackboard he’s handing me.
“I’ll be right back with your drinks to take your orders, alright?”
We both nod, and he strolls away, stopping on his way at a few tables to check on the other customers.
“Did I just spot salted caramel in the sweet categories?” Nate shrieked, an horrified look on his face.
I turn the black board to look at the back and grin.
“You’d be surprised what people try when they have the option to. I once heard a guy order pesto, peanuts, smoked salmon, and maple syrup in his.” Nate winces. “It looked and smelled disgusting. But the guy loved it and didn’t leave a bite.”
“I don’t think I’m ready to be that adventurous yet,” he chuckles. “I might go with regular ingredients for my first time.”
I look at the list and quickly make my choice, before I hand him the small board. He looks at it thoughtfully, sometimes grimacing, gasping or outright laughing.
“Okay, I think I’ve made my choice. I’ll take—”
“No, no, no, don’t tell me!” I whisper yell, plugging my ears with my fingers. “I’ll find out when you order.”
He arches a brow and I unplug my ears warily. “But what if what I’m choosing is—”
“If you chose the ingredients, it’s because you like those ingredients, and your brain wants to taste them together. Trust your instinct,” I add solemnly.
He shakes his head, a little exasperated smile pulling at his lips. Claudio comes back a couple of seconds later with our drinks and a notepad.
“Scarlett says she has dried morels. Not on the list, but she’ll use them for you if you want,” he says in a low voice to Nate and I.
“What is the pasta of the day?” I ask him.
“Linguine or fusilli.”
“Okay… So, I’ll have creamy linguine, with pancetta, shallots, chopped zucchini, parmigiano, and… Morels.”
“Good choice,” he winks, writing my order down with a smile before turning towards Nate.
“Uhm… Can I have the spicy tomato fusilli, with minced beef, and green onions?”
Claudio chuckles, writing it down. “You guys are no fun.”
“Well, I wanted to add some garlic, but I’m planning on kissing her later and I’d rather not kill her in the process.”
I almost choke on my drink, getting really close to having Dr Pepper coming out of my nose.
“Smart man,” Claudio says, clapping him on the shoulder before taking off towards the kitchen.
Nate’s thumb is rubbing soft circles on my knuckles, his eyes lost towards the motion, and his fist propped under his chin.
“So basically,” he says slowly, “you stayed here for hours, imagining the life of the other people?”
“It’s how it started, yes,” I shrug. “Now, we spend time with just the two of us and we create a story and illustration. He has an idea that he’ll give me, for example the story takes place in the forest , so I’ll start drawing a forest, and then I have to give him a detail that I chose like It’s autumn and the red leaves are falling . He’ll write about it or change what he previously wrote, then give me something else like people are searching for mushrooms, and there are wild animals watching them … It goes on and on until the story doesn’t make any sense and the drawing basically looks like it’s been made by someone on crack.”
Nate laughs, flashing his dimple.
“I hope I’ll get to read a few of those sometimes.”
“Jack wants to publish them.”
“Then I hope they don’t all look like they were written under the influence…”
“Nah, I was exaggerating a little. A lot of them turned out pretty good.”
Claudio stops at our table, his hands behind his back.
“How was everything?” He asks, eying our empty desert plates. “I’m guessing it went well, but you never know, you might have a dog hidden under the table…”
“It was perfect,” Nate says.
“Just like I remember. We’ll come back before we leave,” I smile. “This time I’ll bring Jack. We’ll all come, actually. It’ll be a nice last meal before our flight, right?” I ask Nate.
“Definitely. I’m absolutely convinced that Evie will have the most fun composing the weirdest shit ever just to irk Ikram.”
I snort at the mental picture. She’d absolutely do that.
“Everyone has left, and Scarlett will be done in a minute. Would you guys want to stay with us for a drink before we close for the night?”
I look at Nate, hoping he won’t mind, and he smiles in return.
“Absolutely. I can’t wait to hear all the stories about Jack and Prue when they were teens.”
Claudio grins as he sets two chairs next to our tables. “They were the best.”