Eight
617 Words
Niccolo
We sit and eat.
I was coming from a clean up when I found her. She just looked so...devasted.
I couldn't leave her like that. Not her. Something about her begged me to protect her. Still, it wasn't much as romantic as...she just looked fragile.
Perhaps I'm sucker for a damsel in distress.
“So...Mr. Vitale. What do you do?”
He clears his throat. “I'm a businessman. What about you? Any idea what you want to do?”
“No. Not really. I've graduated and I'm starting college this fall.”
“Eh. State.”
He looks up. “Eh? Do you want to go somewhere else?”
“I wanted to go to Calvin. But...”
“But?”
“It's a little high priced, is all.”
I nod, but say nothing. “So what's your business called?”
Thankfully the waitor came in that moment. It's so hard to come up with a spontaneous but believe lie when those brown doe eyes are blinking at me.
“Sir, will you have your usual?”
I nod.
Manon is looking at the menu confidently. I grin.
“Do you need help reading the menu?”
She sets it down. “Yes please. I forgot I don't speak Italian."
“I would recommend the Alfredo. It's delicious.”
“Then I'll get that,” She smiles at me sweetly
“Anything else?”
“Two fresh slices of Tiramisu.”
“Anything to drink?”
I look up at her. She shrugged. “Pinot. Red. Something from the 60's.”
“I'll be back soon with your order sir.”
And then all my attention is on her. Manon.
“So Manon where are you from?”
She shifts uncomfortably. “I was born in France, but we moved to Detroit when I was seven.”
‘Ah, so you've been here most your life?”
“Yep!”
It's quiet at our little table. It's just us, in the VIP seat just for me. Gino is an friend who owes me his life.
He treats with like a man he owes, and I do enjoy it.
Manon keeps staring at the checkered table setting, her arms around herself.
I sigh, standing, shrugging off my jacket. I walk over to her, standing behind her, draping my suit jacket over her sweatshirt.
“Thank you,” She whispered, as I sat back down.
Instead of answering, I stare at her.
“If you want something, tell me, pulcino.”
She nods sheepishly, pulling my jacket around her slender frame tighter.
My mouth opens to say something else, bit the food was placed in front of us.
“Looks good," I say firmly to the waitor.
“I'll give my regards to Gino.”
I grin wickedly. "He cooked it himself did he? I'll come back there and see him after we finish our dinner. Let him know.”
“Will do, sir.”
Manon eyes sparkled at the plates of food.
“It all looks so good!”
“Try the tiramisu. It means, ‘A Pick-Me-Up.’.”
I urge her. She doesn't need urging. She digs into it, sighing in content when it hits her tongue.
“Mh, it's so good! I want to eat this every day of my life!”
I smile at her adorable expression.
“I'm happy to see you smiling, pulcino."
Her smile goes away. She sets her fork down.
“I just want to be okay.”
I eye her sadly. “Don't we all?”
A melancholy aire take over us, but I refuse let it take root. “Eat. It's getting late.”
- Writer
