Chapter 3
The next morning arrived far too quickly. Crashing thunder and a Biblical-style deluge was something not even Keira could sleep through. After trying to doze off for what felt like a half an hour, she reached over to check her phone and was greeted with 7:05am beaming brightly from the screen. “It’s Saturday, for eff’s sake,” she muttered as she rolled out of bed. Pulling on a fluffy pink robe, she headed into the bathroom. After a quick shower and brushing her teeth, Keira walked down to the kitchen, swapping out last night’s tea for a steaming cup of coffee and a cinnamon sugar’d English muffin. She carried both into the living room, setting the pastry down on the end table before moving to the large picture windows looking out onto the street. While she appreciated the elegance they provided, their sheer size occasionally made her feel like she was living in a giant fishbowl.
An intense flash of lightning followed immediately by a resounding boom almost made Keira drop her mug. Grateful that she didn’t have anywhere to be that morning, she retreated to the couch, drinking her coffee and enjoying nature’s display of dominance. She smiled as she took a bite of the warm, toasty English muffin. “You really are the king of comfort food,” she said to her breakfast, careful not to let the melted butter drip onto her robe. On top of the intrinsic deliciousness, there were fond childhood memories associated with English muffins slathered in butter and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. Saved for special occasions, they felt like an indulgence, which was what Keira needed at the moment.
To avoid dealing with the rain as long as possible, Keira took care of her inside to-do list before braving the storm. She’d procrastinated doing laundry that week, which meant she had a small mountain of clothes that needed washing. She threw a load in, cleaning her bathroom while she waited. Once she’d moved the clothes to the dryer and put in the next load, she washed a pot that had been soaking overnight. Before meeting Miriam for drinks she’d reheated some fettuccine alfredo. While the noodles weren’t homemade, the sauce was; if there was one thing she could nail every time, it was an amazing alfredo made from scratch.
After putting in her third and final load, Keira tossed her book in her purse, put on her raincoat and headed out of the Brownstone. The rain had lessened, but it was still drizzling. Though she rarely said it out loud, Keira loved the feel of the city after a storm. The trees looked fresh and shiny from the rain and the air smelled clean. It was as if the world had just taken a shower.
Before heading to the little grocery store a couple blocks away, she stopped in a tiny cafe across the street. Owned by an older Italian couple, the six table bistro was positively idyllic. Each table was covered in a red-and-white checkered tablecloth, with a small glass vase and single white flower in the middle. The mustached owner - Giuseppe Anzio - acted as maitre d, escorting guests to their table with a white towel draped over his right arm. He seemed to revel in acting like something out of an old movie, the bespectacled restaurant owner in a comfortably frumpy suit, speaking in slightly broken English and fussing around the seating area, cleaning tables and chatting with guests. He loved to tell stories about the black and white photographs that adorned the walls, sharing that this one was of his grandparents in Sommacampagna, a town outside Verona, and that was of San Massimo, the church in Verona where they were married.
As Keira walked in, Giuseppe welcomed her with a hearty “‘ello!” and waved her to a table in the back. As she finished getting settled, Giuseppe walked up with a steaming mug of coffee.
“Buongiorno,” he said, setting it down gently before her.
“Buongiorno, Giuseppe. You’re quite the mind reader. How’d you know this is exactly what I needed?” she said as she took a tentative sip of the piping hot liquid.
“Everyone needs coffee,” he chuckled. “You want something, ah, big or little to eat?”
Keira worked hard to maintain a straight face. Whenever he said “to eat,” she couldn’t help picturing a little bird on his shoulder, because he ran the words together so it sounded like “tweet.”
“Little, please,” she managed to say. She allowed herself to smile once he and his imaginary avian companion sauntered back into the kitchen. She could hear him talking to his wife, Marta, the baking genius behind the counter. While most people ordered from a limited menu, Keira had been coming here almost since the day she moved in down the street and knew the best choice was to let Marta pick what you ate. It could be a simple prosciutto, basil and mozzarella sandwich on freshly baked bread or a beautifully handmade tortellini in a light brown butter sauce. Each day she devised something new based on the ingredients at her disposal, and those who trusted her creativity were never disappointed. Today she sent out warm rolls, soft butter and thinly sliced salami and cheese.
“Again with the mind reading! This is perfect. Thank you,” Keira exclaimed as Giuseppe walked up. He guffawed, gratified by her enthusiasm. After telling her to enjoy, he moved on to the only other occupied table in the cafe.
Audibly sighing happily after her first bite, Keira pulled out her book and dove into the world created by C.S. Lewis’ Out of the Silent Planet, the first book of his Space Trilogy. Given her job editing steamy tales about heavily sighing maidens, hunky studs and torrid affairs, she was very discerning when it came to what she read on her own time. The trilogy was a reread and one she always enjoyed.
It didn’t take long before people-watching distracted her. The lunch crowd began to filter through, most of whom preferred take out to squeezing into the cute little hole-in-the-wall. There was a steady stream of regulars, those like Keira who frequented Anzio’s more than once a week. Most others were drivers for food delivery services, such as DoorDash or Grubhub, as indicated by their hats or messenger bags. There were a few new faces, including a handsome gentleman who caught Keira’s eye. Possibly in his early 30s, he was wearing black rimmed glasses, a deep blue shirt and skinny black tie. Their eyes briefly met, with Keira’s quickly flitting back down to her novel. In her peripheral vision she could see him pick up his to-go bag and pause, taking a half step in her direction before changing course and heading out the door. Giuseppe looked over at her and smiled, nodding his head in the direction of the retreating stranger and waggling his eyebrows. Keira burst out laughing, incredibly thankful she’d already swallowed her coffee.
Once she finished her Italian brunch, Keira packed up and waved to Marta through the swinging half-door into the kitchen. She paid Giuspeppe, wished him a good day and paused under the miniature awning, grateful to see the rain had stopped before she headed out the door.
A quick trip to the market allowed her to acquire the staples they’d run out of at the Brownstone. Milk, a copious amount of butter, bread crumbs and sea salt quickly filled her handbasket. She was able to fit some tilapia fillets and a small package of asparagus gently on top before she headed to the counter. Passing the frozen food section, she was distracted by the array of ice cream, grabbing a pint of Talenti Caramel Cookie Crumble Gelato before checking out.
Keira took the long way back, enjoying the fresh air and dark clouds, which no longer appeared ominous since all precipitation had been expended. When she reached home, she put the groceries in the kitchen and checked on her laundry. As she walked back in, she was suddenly enveloped by two skinny arms and a mass of fluffy blonde hair.
“You’re back!” she explained happily, returning her roommate’s hug.
“Between the weather here and a freak snowstorm over Denver, a ton of flights were cancelled, including mine,” Samantha said, releasing Keira and walking over to the island. She began unloading the groceries, stopping when she got to the gelato.
“Oh no,” she said, holding up the Talenti.
“What? How did you…” Keira started.
Samantha raised an eyebrow and hand. “Please. You only buy Cookie Crumble when that happens. Actually, I think that’s a new record...two whole months since his last attempt,” she finished sarcastically.
Keira picked up the butter and put it in the fridge. “I’ve stopped keeping track, so I have no idea. Doesn’t matter anyway. I like ice cream and it feels like a movie marathon kind of day, which obviously requires milk and sugar of the frozen variety.”
Shaking her head, Samantha hurriedly put away the remaining groceries and grabbed Keira’s hand.
“Nope,” she said, as she dragged Keira toward the front door. “We’re going out!”
I told you in person and now I am putting it in writing- I so ENJOYED reading Chapter 3! Fun! Please find that little Italian Restaurant and take me out to lunch! Ha! Can't wait to see where this story goes next! Also- thanks for the reminder of how important it is to reflect on what can help me become a better version of myself. We're all a "work in progress" but life gets busy and sometimes hard, frequently exhausting. Distractions, deadlines, laundry! It's easy to pass over the deeper, more important things this life is meant to be.
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