My question probably sounded ignorant. But I genuinely knew nothing.
“Well, it can be bad if you can’t control the symptoms. I did a ton of research and found that there are autoimmune dietary protocols a lot of people swear by. But the only way they work is if you’re super strict in cutting out inflammatory foods.”
“So, like what types of things do you eliminate? I know sugar is one…”
“Gluten—so all bread and pasta, that kind of thing. Plus, all dairy and sugar.”
Damn.
“Is there anything left to eat?”
She laughed. “All fruits and vegetables, all meats and fish. And some non-gluten starches, like potato and rice.” She sighed. “It’s really not that bad once you get used to it. It’s mainly annoying when you go out to restaurants.”
“Or when assholes like me accuse you of being a bitter person because you don’t put sugar in your coffee.”
“Exactly.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, eating like that—how do you not shrivel up into nothing? Your body is healthy, and I mean that in the best of ways.”
“Nuts keep junk in the trunk.” She chuckled. “I eat lots of them. They’re healthy fats, along with things like avocado and full-fat coconut milk.”
“Got it.” I smiled. “So, how do you feel nowadays?”
“Honestly? I feel amazing. Better than I’ve ever felt, even before all of those symptoms started. Which is why I’m not willing to go back to the way I ate before. I tried reintroducing some of the old foods once just to experiment, and many of the symptoms came back.”
“That’s cool that you were able to figure this out on your own.”
“I feel lucky.”
“Thank you for explaining it to me. It makes total sense.” I lifted the green tea at the center of the table. “Can you have tea?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “I drink it all the time, actually.”
I poured her a cup before doing the same for myself.
“Speaking of my eliminating bread and sugar…” she said. “I would imagine that’s particularly hard for you to fathom since your grandparents owned an Italian bakery growing up.”
“You knew about that, huh?”
“Yeah.” She smiled.
“Nonno and Nonna were legendary in Meadowbrook. He’d get up at 3 AM every day to head in to work and bake stuff. She’d follow him soon after. And they kept the place open till seven to catch the after-work crowd. So it was a long-ass day. They’d get home late every night. And I’d have a late dinner with them. Usually some kind of pasta.”
“Italians having pasta! You don’t say…” She teased.
“Imagine that?”
“Wait…” she said. “Did you live with them or your dad?”
“Both. We lived in a two-family house growing up. My father and I lived on the second floor, and my grandparents were downstairs. My dad worked a lot of night shifts at the fire department. There were times I was home alone and times when I was with my grandparents, but most nights ended with a late dinner and whatever bread needed to be taken home because it was too stale to sell at the bakery.”
“I visited that bakery a few times, but never knew who the owners were or that they were your grandparents.”
“If you had known in high school, you definitely would’ve stayed away, right?”
“Not if the cannoli was good.” She laughed.
“Oh, it was. Believe me.”
She sighed. “Anyway, from everything you describe, it sounds like an idyllic life. Delicious Italian meals every night, all the bread you could eat, getting to grow up with grandparents around who lived in the same house.” She paused and looked deeply into my eyes. “But I’m sure it wasn’t easy growing up without a mom.”
A tension built in my chest. If anyone knew what that might have been like, it was Aspyn. Because she was raising a kid in that exact situation.
“It wasn’t easy,” I agreed, choosing not to get into it more right now. I didn’t want to ruin the mood of this evening. Instead, I shifted the topic. “I know you can understand that because of Kiki.”
“Yup. No matter how much love I give her, I can never replace her mom. That’s just the way it is.”
I wanted to ask what had happened to her sister, but again, I felt like it wasn’t the right time. That would make me feel obligated to talk about my mother. And I wasn’t ready to go there. But for some reason, tonight made me feel like I could go there. Aspyn would understand, and she was a good listener. I could’ve stayed here all night talking to her—just not about my mother.
“Does your dad still live in the house you grew up in?” she asked.
“When Nonno went into assisted living, my dad and he sold the house. I was living in Seattle by that time. My father bought his own place, which is where I’m staying now.”
“I see.” She sipped her tea.
“Do you own your house or rent?” I asked.
“I own it. Barely cover my mortgage every month, but I’m somehow making it work.”
“Good for you. It’s smart to own. And it’s a nice little place. Very homey. Even if the last memory I have of it is getting attacked there.”
“Sorry again about the water gun.”
“Maybe one of these days you’ll invite me over for black coffee and air, and I can show Kiki I’m not really the bogeyman.”
She nodded, clearly not committing to anything.
Over dinner, we fell into more easy conversation. She asked me about my college experience at the University of Florida and why I went into finance. I told her a little about my life in Seattle. She talked some more about what it was like helping to raise her niece. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve said this night felt an awful lot like a damn good date. But I wasn’t going to ruin it by insinuating anything. Despite getting along for at least one night—and despite the fact that I couldn’t help noticing how the lights in here caught her green eyes—I knew Aspyn and I likely couldn’t ever be anything more than friends. Her accepting me as a friend was the best-case scenario. And that sucked because tonight had made me realize how much I liked her.
Fuck.
I really like her.
Aspyn
On Monday at work, one of the nurses, Shala, asked about my date this past weekend. As we ate lunch in the dining room, I filled her in on what had happened and how I ended up actually having dinner with Troy Serrano. My failed date had essentially turned into a date with Troy, and I still didn’t understand how I truly felt about that. I’d had a good time with him, though. That was undeniable.
Shala was all too amused by my story.
“Honestly, what are the chances?” she said. “It’s like you can’t get away from the guy. I love it, though.”
“I know. And it turned out to be a pretty nice dinner.”
It was the first time I’d been able to spend time with Troy without dwelling on the past. I’d gotten lost in conversation—and a little lost in his gorgeous eyes at times.
“Sounds like you dodged a bullet with that Brian, too.”