An Unexpected Invitation

"We really can't have you dating our son, you know."

The woman interrupting your evening is seated at the dining table, bowl of antipasti untouched before her. As though you have interrupted her in the midst of her shopping, you scramble to explain your relationship, but she cuts you off with a wave of her hand and a dismissive, "No, no, no. You two were just dating, I thought you knew that. You meet him and bring him dinner, so he can't walk in and see me. I know you jewish girls are funny about that."

The sharpness of her tone catches you off guard, but you already know how society works. You don't know this woman or her child, but her tongue knows its place. You consider your options, and in a moment of weakness, say, "I'm sorry to intrude, I will have a seat, maybe after he's left, we can talk."

Her eyes flash and you quickly realize your mistake. Perhaps this was a bad idea, after all. You push your plate away, pretend to be fascinated with the wall.

"What are you doing? He needs you to be there. Go to him."

You stand at her order, and she takes a meaningful bite of salad, "Well, don't be long. The cannolis shouldn't take too long."

You were new in town. There were a lot of nice places, but this one was a little run-down. The front was an Italian restaurant, but to the right was a small apothecary. The owner stood beside you kindly, applying a new coat of lacquer to the glass counter.

"Hi. I'm just here to pick him up.

"Well hmmm, looks like you're meeting someone. You can go inside, I'm sure he will be back soon."

"It's no big deal, I'll just wait."

"Ohh, I don't think that's wise. In fact, I think you should be on your way. Your boy needs you."

"Look I'm just waiting on him."

She wags her finger at you, "That's a lot of foolishness, you really should go."

"I'm not going anywhere."

The woman looks to her son who is still getting food and taking his time, "Your man is totally getting restless. Now go, or you'll have to wait for the cannoli."

You give her the finger and jog up the road, but you stop. You can't go inside, you need to know what he thinks of you. If you walked in there, you'd only be mocked.

Instead, you stare in the window until your eyes hurt, but all you can see is their interior and the street behind you.

You drop your head and think about what your mother would say. You supposed you had to go inside. You reach for the door, but as your hand lands on the pepper, you hesitate. "What are you doing? He needs you to be there. Go to him."

You arrive around 8. You had to see him, so you scheduled a visit with one of the trainers downtown. You have a ton of questions and things you need to know, but as you approach the door, you know you shouldn't. But you can't help it. You need to know what his mother thinks of you. If she doesn't welcome you, then you must stand up for yourself.

"Just go inside."

You nod, open the door, and enter an Italian restaurant.

A woman stands up from the table, welcoming you. Uh-oh. She had a deep voice, so you assumed it was a man. You thought you had made a bit of progress as a woman, but you were apparently mistaken. This woman, though, looked like a man, had a cruel voice like a man, were it not for her deep feminine features and that she was wearing a dress and heels. She reaches out to shake your hand with a smile, but changes into a frown. You tried to smile back, but she turns, and says, "Your man is totally getting restless. Now go, or you'll have to wait for the cannoli."

You feel like a fool. You didn't want to be hit on by this woman, but it was starting to look like she might be the lesser of two evils. But then, there was a deep voice behind you, and his hand was on your shoulder. He had to have been this woman's son.

"I'm not going anywhere," you say.

The Italian woman rolls her eyes and stands up, "I was getting a scowl out of you, too, glad I came to your rescue. Take a seat, cannoli is right on. He'll be right up."

You sit and look at each other. The woman is on the far edge of the table, a sour look on her face.

"Don't worry mother, I'm waiting on him," is all you say.

She nods, dismisses you and walks away.

The two of you sit in respectful silence. The air between you sizzles.

He looks serious, but still handsome. You contemplate asking him to dance but reject the thought. He looks like he would be an amazing dancer.

Your silence ends as he adds, "So, uh… Can I call you, or should I call you?"

"Here's your number, I can text you, too. I'm from out of state. I don't have a phone."

His phone rings and the call is from a 9 number. You escalate, "Hello, this is. How are you my name is. I remember meeting you on the phone. My number is? May I call you? Okay, maybe you should call me. I'll call. We will. Okay, fine I will send it"

"Uh, yeah," he says into the phone.

You smile and say, "I will leave you alone. We will talk later."

He turns and says, "I'm glad I met you."

You blush and say, "I'm glad I met you, too."

He stands up, offers you a hand, and you take it. You don't mind standing up, as your heels don't. You smile. You walk away from the table. He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss. You kiss him back. He smells good, your hands itch to touch his face. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Your hand seeks it out, it's from an unknown number, "Mandy just wanted to say hi, don't you forget about her. She's very jealous, call her"

You smile again, and look at your handsome man an inch away, who quickly breaks the kiss, as if it meant nothing, as if he didn't taste the love and affection.

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