13. Sujit #2
She threw her head back in a gentle laugh before savoring another bite of the waffles. “And the petulla are excellent. I’m going to go find an Albanian breakfast place in Dallas. What do you think is the secret to her waffles? Is it a special ingredient or a specific step in the making process?”
I shrugged. “I’m more sensible than to ask her. She guards her recipes with the same intensity she protects this place. A few years ago, they decided to throw her out and lease it to a hipster joint for a higher rent. The patrons created a ruckus and helped her retain the diner.”
Aarti put her fork down and stared at me for a moment. “If I recall correctly, Walter’s WM Realty bought out this place about three years ago. So unless I’m mistaken, I take it you had something to do with safeguarding it?”
My jaw dropped, along with the fork in my hand, and remained so until she leaned over and put her finger under my chin to lift it close. “You aren’t the only resourceful person around, Sujit Rao.”
“Hey, you outdo me in every respect, without a doubt.”
Her eyes rose from her plate to meet mine, and her smile widened. I was beginning to love the look of that particular smile on her face, the one that reached her eyes and drew two tiny lines around both corners.
“Like I said last night, you are terribly good for my ego, Sujit,” she said and delicately cut into her eggs.
I found myself staring at her as the fork approached her mouth and the eggs slid in.
I took in the gentle curve of her lips leading up to the cupid’s bow framing her splendid mouth.
This morning, she wore a beautiful shade of muted pink.
Dusty rose, I think Tara used to call it.
And for the first time, Tara’s name and memory didn’t engender bitterness and sorrow.
I felt a strange calm wash over me like a wave receding gently after splashing my feet with perfectly tepid water.
Was this how it felt to make peace with one’s past?
To move on from someone and start something fresh, new, and exciting?
I was still gazing at her when she picked up the striped napkin and gracefully wiped the corners of her mouth. “Just because you’re good for my ego doesn’t mean you get to stare at me while I’m eating.”
My gaze darted from her lips to her eyes and quickly down to my plate. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to stare. I was…lost in thought.”
She smiled her wicked smile, which she promptly hid behind her glass of water. After a moment of playing eye footsie with me, she placed her glass down and began pouring the pure maple syrup on her waffle in a slow, seductive stream.
“Eat your food, or Ms. Dina’s going to give you flak for letting the eggs turn cold,” she said, trying to distract me from the steady flow of the syrup.
“Yes, thank you,” I said and returned my attention to my plate.
Tara had been bold and exciting in many ways, but I’d never felt like this with her.
It was as if Aarti knew exactly how to kindle that special place in my heart and my loins.
I’d never felt this needy, this desperate, this helpless with anyone else before.
Yet the specter of our connection hovered over us at every moment.
We were mementos of a sad, humiliating past for the other.
Would we ever be able to get past the ex factor?
With a silent sigh, I finished my food like the good boy that Ms. Dina claimed I was.
I hadn’t been able to determine her exact age, but she’d lost both her sons in Kosovo long years ago.
She’d once told me about them while patting my hand.
Only now, this good boy was brimming with unseemly intentions for the beautiful woman who sat across him, enjoying her coffee and another hot waffle.
After I placed the cash on the check that the server had brought us, I began to help Aarti with her coat.
I saw Ms. Dina rushing toward us, weaving through the happy, content crowd that flocked her establishment every weekend for her heartwarming food and some much-needed love.
Ms. Dina always stopped from table to table, making sure the food was up to the patrons’ liking and that they left the place with a smile.
“Ms. Dina,” I said, holding her hand in mine, “thank you for getting us the table. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”
“Never for you, dear,” she said in her gentle accent and eyed Aarti with curiosity.
“This is Aarti. Aarti, the irreplaceable Ms. Dina.”
Flashing a warm smile, Aarti took her hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you, and the food deserves every compliment Sujit gives it.”
“I’m very happy to hear that,” Ms. Dina said, patting Aarti’s hand like a grandmother. “He’s a very special boy, and that woman hurt him. Please take very good care of him.”
“She’s just a friend, Ms. Dina,” I quickly interjected to avoid Aarti the embarrassment.
Ms. Dina smiled and looked between us before beckoning me down to her low frame. As I bent to give her a hug, she squeezed my arm and whispered in my ear, “I like her, take good care of her.”
As if pleased by Ms. Dina’s blessing, the sun was peeking out when we stepped outside. Walking away from the breakfast and brunch crowd on that unusually pleasant winter morning, we walked around the corner and waited for my driver to bring the car around.
“What did she say to you?” Aarti asked.
Tempted as I was to brush it off with a joke, the earnest look on her face dissuaded me. “She said she likes you,” I said, and I saw the car pull up. I opened the door for Aarti before going around to the other side and slipping in beside her.
“She doesn’t know you helped with her problems, does she?” Aarti asked as we started toward the Baccarat, where she wanted to pick up a few things.
“No, I told Walt it wasn’t necessary to share that piece of information with her.”
Aarti turned her face to scrutinize mine. “And she still loves you the way she does?”
“Well, the love is mutual. She’s always caring and kind.”
“But it’s selfless. No one has loved me selflessly except my mother.”
“There’s a lot of seemingly selfless love in the world around us.
But no love is really selfless because when you give love, you also get it.
When you give love, you feel good about it, which makes you happy.
If you look at it that way, selfless love is also very selfish.
It yearns for happiness, contentment, self-love. ”
“And that’s wrong?”
“On the contrary, it is precious. It makes the world a better place.”
“That’s too much philosophy to handle this early in the morning without mimosas,” she said with a straight face, and I laughed.
For the rest of the way to the hotel, she filled the silence between us with a relaxed, happy look on her face.