Monday morning had arrived.
The dreaded Monday morning, the beginning of the work week. Once in my life, I looked forward to Monday. I went back to work and felt useful. Of course, at times, I never left work during the weekend. But now, here, my life was not the same. Oh yes, I still enjoyed work. There was something different now. She is Nadia.
It had been many months since our chance meeting in the coffee shop. Our growing relationship blossomed into a love affair. I was very deeply in love with Nadia. There, I said it aloud to myself. Silly is not it, or perhaps not. I had said it to Nadia, and I know she believed it. Those words had never exited my mouth before. Now, it was true. But now that I think about it, she had not used those words with me. I know she cares for me. I know she loves to be with me. Do I need to hear those words? Shouldn't I be content with what I have?
I prepared for work and was out the door. A quick stop for coffee and I was there. Reading forms, filling out forms, attending meetings, phone calls to make, and discussions. That was a usual day. But then, today wasn't usual, was it? The day moved slowly for me. Anticipation of this evening weighed heavily in my thoughts. I spent much time looking at my watch, or the clocks in each room. I will swear to you that they moved backwards.
At last, after what I perceived as eons, the day was over.
I walked much too quickly and arrived much too early for our rendezvous.
The server at the wine bar asked.
"What would we like today?"
The server, his name was Joseph, knew me by name. He had also taken exceptionally good notes concerning our likes and dislikes.
I gave it some thought.
I spoke.
"I don't know today, surprise me please with something new."
Joseph asked.
"Sweat or dry?"
I spoke.
"Dry, if you please."
Joseph left the counter and began to search in the back for his choice. After a few moments, he came back with a bottle.
I asked.
"What have you found for me?"
Joseph spoke.
"What I have for you today is an Agiorgitiko, a Greek wine. The grapes used to produce this red wine give it a lush, velvety favor with black cherry flavors."
And Joseph smiled.
I spoke.
"Please pour and Nadia should be along shortly."
Joseph poured the wine and I let it stand for a few minutes. I know it was a few minutes as I looked at my watch one thousand, two hundred and seventy-three times in those few minutes. The appointed time came and went. She is busy I thought and cannot get away. The traffic is bad and has slowed her down.
Finally, closer to seven, the bell on the door rang out. I turned and there she was. Nadia wore a short-sleeved dress of sapphire blue. Once again, her black hair and ringlets fell about her shoulders. I do not know what she does or how, but each time it is as though I see her for the first time.
Nadia began to walk across the room. I met her halfway and picked her up by the waist and twirled her around while I kissed her. Joseph smiled and poured Nadia's glass. Other patrons watched us as well. Some shook their heads and some of the older ones just smiled and nodded yes. I did not care what they thought, Nadia was here, with me.
We found a table and sat with our wine. Joseph managed to be sure we drank the entire bottle. Such a good server. Nadia and I chatted a little about our respective days. And now the wine finished, and it was time to have some dinner. We went around the corner to the small mom and pop place we had frequented so many times.
They knew us by name as well. Tonight's special was simple, spaghetti and meatballs. Simple? Not on a bet. The spaghetti was lightly coated with garlic infused olive oil and then covered in a red sauce that had simmered for I do not know how long. But the favors were concentrated. The meatballs were the size of a compact car and crafted from ground beef and ground lamb. The meat was seasoned to perfection. What that seasoning was, I will never know, as the chief cook (Mama, as she was known) will never release that recipe.
And as always, there was bread and Chianti. Simple? But surely a meal to be savored and enjoyed. Nadia and I continued to eat and talk as we always had done. Tonight, however, towards the end of the evening, she became quieter.
It was if she wanted to say something but did not have the words. I would ask if everything was all right and she would break into her usual smile and say yes, everything is fine. I walked Nadia home.
We stood at her door to say goodnight. Once more, it seemed as if she wanted to tell me something, but no words. We kissed goodnight, she went in and I walked back to my apartment. We will not meet tomorrow. Our discussions that evening let one another know that work would be overtime tomorrow. I was not certain what Nadia did and she never spoke much concerning it. I imagined it was important enough that she was unable to discuss it. That was fine.
It was Friday for lunch before we could meet again. Apparently work for us was busy and demanding, as work can sometimes be. Lunch Friday was soup and salad at a local bistro. Nothing fancy you would think. The minestrone was homemade and accompanied by a Caesar salad with homemade dressing. Lunch was over and we must go back to our jobs and finish the last few hours of the work week.
As we parted, Nadia spoke.
"I must see you tonight, it is important. Please come to my apartment at seven. I will have dinner ready. Yes?"
I spoke.
"I will be there. What would you like me to bring?"
Nadia replied.
"Please pick up the wine from Monday, won't you?"
I spoke.
"Of course."
As I returned to my job, my mind was racing. The occasional silence from Nadia or her inability to find the right words. Something was wrong and I did not know what. She will tell me, and we will work through it.
The appointed hour arrived, and I was prepared with the wine of choice. Nadia invited me in and asked me to open the wine. Dinner would be ready shortly.
Nadia spoke.
"Come into the kitchen and we will have an appetizer."
I went into the kitchen and on the counter was a stack of pita bread, a bowl of tzatziki, cubes of feta cheese and a large bowl of Kalamata olives. We nibbled on these treats while Nadia continued to cook.
Greek salads were already prepared and in the refrigerator. Lamb chops broiled in the oven. There were also potatoes and green beans. All was ready and the table was set. I seated Nadia and then myself. This was a table of culinary delights as far as I was concerned. I had learned about most of this when eating out with Nadia. Tonight, she had prepared it all. I did not know much of Nadia's past, but I did wonder how she knew to cook in this style. I had learned from my grandmother and my parents.
Was it the same for Nadia? The pieces began to form in my mind. She did not seem to have an accent of any I could discern. Her English was perfect, even down to the American euphemisms you hear daily.
I decided not to ask but let the evening progress. She will tell me what is when she is ready. In the meantime, enjoy her company and the food she had made. We ate a lot of what Nadia had prepared and it was delicious.
Nadia spoke.
"Would like desert now?"
I spoke.
"Yes, please, may I ask what we are having?"
Nadia replied.
"I have prepared Greek rice pudding for us."
I asked.
"Please, and if you would, tell what is in it."
Nadia informed me.
"The recipe I use has rice, milk, eggs, sugar, and a dash of salt, some lemon rind, vanilla, and cinnamon."
