Twelve Months
Page 7
From Food & Wine and Home & Garden to Liberal Arts and Nature & Science, there was something to spark the interest of those who had not stopped learning – the curious, the adventurous; people who were still looking to stretch their personal horizons – me. Yoga and meditation; American Sign Language; Acting 101; it was an inexpensive invitation to become a more cultured and well-rounded human being; to become a true Renaissance person. Like a fat man reading through a Chinese menu, I flipped through its pages.
There were classes on painting, pottery and photography. One could learn Tai Chi and how to invest money one term, and then take classes on stained glass and scrapbooking the next. There were belly dancing lessons, or beginner guitar. Languages such as Japanese, Spanish and Scottish Gaelic were offered, as were courses on fencing, kickboxing and chess. For the aspiring writers, SCLN hosted several classes from creative writing to a popular workshop on how to get published.
There’d be no scrolled diploma, or cap and gown received at the end of the class. Instead, I’d get a fresh perspective and some valuable knowledge to carry with me for the rest of my days. I circled the one that interested me most.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Though I believe it was only one of two things she’d always wished for and never received from me, I’d never cooked dinner for Bella. So, as the first half of my ingenious plan, it was time to do just that. And if I was going to successfully turn my grand idea into action, I needed a diversion.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
After coming to the United States from Portugal, Master Chef Antone Carvalho worked in New York as a chef and magazine food editor. He apprenticed at several New York institutions, including the Waldorf Astoria, before being appointed Executive Chef at Bittersweet Farm in Westport, Massachusetts. Teaching was a lifelong dream that became a reality in 1999 when he joined forces with SCLN.
For four hundred dollars, his class looked great. I had a few questions, though, so I called him. “I’d like to learn how to cook dinner for my wife…for the first time in thirty years,” I told him, “and I have some specific dishes in mind.”
“And what are those?”
I read from the paper in front of me. “For the hors d’ouvres, I’d like to serve coconut crusted shrimp with a soy dipping sauce. We’d start with a traditional minestrone soup and tomato & mozzarella salad with an olive oil drizzle.” I waited for a reaction. He was still listening. “Just in case, I’d like to serve two entrees; chicken stuffed with spinach and feta cheese, as well as tenderloin of beef in herb garlic butter. For dessert…chocolate cake.”
“Plain old chocolate cake, huh?”
“Yup. That’s what she loves. How much will it cost me to learn all this?”
“I’m impressed,” he said. “You’ve done your homework.” He paused. “Let’s just say it’ll cost you more time than money,” he finally answered, clearly moved by my gesture.
“How much time?” I asked, brutally aware that I had much less time than money.
“I can teach you what you need to know in three weeks, two nights a week, two hours each night.”
I was thrilled. “When do we begin?”
“Tomorrow night, six o’clock sharp.”
“Perfect! I’ll see you then.”
I hung up the phone and called Riley. “I’m planning to take a culinary class and cook dinner for your mother, but…”
“Oh, Daddy…”
“Yeah, I know. It’s long overdue. Anyway, I need your help to throw her off. When she asks, tell her that I told you I’m taking some writing class for a few weeks.”
“I will,” Riley promised.
“That’s my girl.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I had no choice. Though I didn’t like it, I had to fib to Bella. “I’d like to be able to capture a few of my stories on paper, so I’m taking a class.”
The next time they spoke, Riley corroborated the story. The heat was off for a while.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
By the second week of fumbling around in Chef Carvalho’s kitchen, he pulled me aside and reluctantly told me, “Some people have a knack for cooking and some people… well…some people don’t.”
“And I’d be in the second group, right?”
With a gentle grin, he nodded.
“Be honest…do I have any chance of pulling off this dinner for my wife?”
“Sure, if you can smuggle me into your house and hide me in your kitchen for a few hours,” he joked.
I laughed. “Although that sounds tempting,” I told him, “I need to do this one by myself.”
“Then follow each recipe to the letter and take your time!” he said, stressing the last few words with the same effort that a father instructs his six-year old son.
I didn’t take offense, though. I completely understood where he was coming from. “I will,” I promised, thinking, I wonder if he makes emergency house calls.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It was a Friday morning when I sent Bella shopping. She knew something was up, but humored me and didn’t ask. No sooner had she pulled out of the driveway than I began cleaning the house, top to bottom. I spent hours cleaning. Once I finished, I dragged myself to the market for all the ingredients I needed to make dinner. Two pain pills later, I started cooking. Each tiring step was a lesson in appreciation for all that my wife had done for me through the years. I tried to follow Chef Carvalho’s instructions and take my time, but my nerves were driving me and I knew it. A few times, I looked at the telephone and considered calling him. Pride stopped me.
Severe fatigue had me by the throat and was choking the life out of me. But if there was ever a rainy day to spend my energy on, it was today. Bella deserved at least that much.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As quickly as it had started, it was over. “Oh, my God!” she gasped. Through her look of astonishment, I served dinner and even threw on an old Sinatra album for us to dance afterward.
If it weren’t for healthy, active taste buds, the meal would have been delicious. Bella tried her best to conceal it, but by her second bite, her face contorted. The dinner was nearly inedible. By my third bite, I threw my fork into the plate and shook my frustrated head. Bella smiled at me from across the table – and kept smiling. Eventually, I joined her until we both began to laugh. “I’m so sorry,” I said, thinking, I should have called Chef Carvalho.
“Don’t you dare apologize,” she said, her face growing serious. “This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me.” Her smile returned. “The thought means everything.”
It took a moment before I surrendered to her wisdom. I guess she’s right, I pondered. Results mean so much less than effort. I stood to clear the plates. “So what’ll you have on your pizza?” I asked.
“Mushrooms and onions, please,” she answered with a beaming smile.
I nodded and, as I walked past her to grab the telephone, she grabbed my arm and pulled me to her.
“I love you so much,” she whispered into my ear. “And I loved your surprise. Thank you!”
I hid my smile in her shoulder. The first part of my plan was complete; my wife’s curiosity to uncover my secret had been quenched. I now had a decent shot at surprising her for the first time in my life. I struggled not to giggle.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
From the moment I’d met Bella, I loved her and she knew it. But life – work, a child, bills, and a thousand responsibilities – all jockeyed for priority and fought for our attention. We did all we could to keep the romance alive, but both of us wished there were more.
I decided that she’d waited long enough to be properly courted. It was time to guarantee the rest of our precious days together by returning to where it all began. For me, the joy was all in the planning. While Madison and Pudge helped me by pretending to be working on the puzzle, I schemed and planned and had the time of my life.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I secretly met
with Vic at Sagres Restaurant on a random Monday night, exactly one week before the big night was to take place. Sagres sat on the very location where Bella and I had our first date; the same spot I’d proposed to her thirty-one years before.
“The most important thing is that the timing be right on,” I told Vic.
My friend winked. “I’ll make sure the entire night goes off like clockwork.”
On Tuesday morning, I called nearly a dozen acoustic guitarists before I found one who would also sing. “To play for three hours?” the musician confirmed.
“Or until she runs out the door, crying.”
The man laughed and promised he’d be there, awaiting our arrival.
That afternoon, Riley and I stepped into a jewelry store on Washington Street in Boston. “What exactly are we looking for?” the stuffy clerk asked.
“A diamond engagement ring,” I answered. “Princess cut…something around a carat.”
With a wave of the hand, we were escorted into a locked room where the clerk poured out a velvet satchel of glittering rocks and then began a brief class on the four C’s of the diamond world – cut, color, clarity and carat. By the third diamond he touched, I’d discovered the one. “She’ll love it!” I said and handed him my credit card.
On Wednesday, I contacted Bella’s favorite flower shop and ordered a dozen long stem red roses with baby’s breath and greens, boxed and scheduled for delivery to Vic at Sagres for Monday afternoon.
Thursday had me on the phone again, confirming a white stretch limo for Monday night, as well as ordering a half dozen of Bella’s favorite chocolate covered strawberries from a gourmet sweet shop. “At three bucks a pop,” I told Riley, “she’d better love them.”
The entire day Friday was spent finishing up the poem, Moments of Destiny, which had taken me weeks to craft. It had to be just right.
But the toughest days of all proved to be Saturday and Sunday. I thought I was going to burst. Instead, I reserved my fleeting energy and acted like nothing was going on. I spent my time eating wholesome foods, getting plenty of rest and taking a walk each evening.
On Monday afternoon, I rushed to Sagres Restaurant with a half dozen chocolate-covered strawberries and a scrolled sheet of tan parchment tied in red ribbon. “The flowers should be here in an hour or so,” I told Vic, “and the guitarist says he’ll be here by six o’clock.”
With a promise of success and a pat on the back, Vic sent me on my way. “It’s going to be unforgettable.”
At the car, I flipped open my cell phone and dialed Bella.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hi, it’s me. Just make sure you’re ready for seven, okay?”
“Okay,” she promised. “Is there something going on?”
“Yeah. I’m already starving.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Though there were empty tables up front, Vic escorted Bella and me to a darkened back room where no one else was seated. The table sat in the center of the room and was very nicely decorated. I could tell by Bella’s face that it seemed peculiar to her. As we took our seats, Vic lit a candle. “I’ll be right back,” he said.
Bella started to question it, but I shrugged it off. “There must have been reservations for the other tables up front?” I suggested.
She nodded, and then noticed a man seated on a stool a few tables over. He was holding a guitar and squinting at some sheet music.
He looked over and smiled. “I hope you guys don’t mind, but I’m trying out tonight for a weekend gig at this place.”
“Oh, that’s great,” Bella said, with no idea Gary had already landed the job.
“Not a problem,” I added, acting as though I’d never spoken to the man. And through an acoustic set of love ballads, Gary was just as convincing.
Bella had no idea but the order had already been carefully spelled out – drinks first, Pinot Grigio for her, beer for me, and the itinerary would begin. Vic approached with both drinks on a small round tray. “Appetizers tonight?” he asked.
I smiled. “Why don’t we start with an order of little necks in garlic and oil?”
Vic nodded once and headed for the kitchen, while Gary swooned, “You say it best when you say nothing at all…”
Bella leaned into my ear and whispered, “How did he know I wanted white wine?”
I was into my second shrug when Vic returned to the table with a gorgeous arrangement of long stem red roses. Without a word, he placed them in front of Bella and rotated the vase until the card faced her. “Your appetizer should be out in a few minutes,” he said and strutted away again.
Gary was already on his second number when Bella plucked the card from the arrangement. It read: “Bella, I love you, forever – Don.” She looked up to find the entire restaurant staring at us.
“And always will,” I whispered when she leaned over and kissed me.
After the steaming appetizer and another round of drinks, Vic placed a silver platter before my glowing wife. It held a scrolled sheet of parchment secured by red ribbon. She looked up at him, but he never let on. She glanced over at me. “What…”
“Open it,” I said, while Gary strummed away in the background.
She did. It was the one thing she’d always wanted from me, but had never gotten – until now.
Moments of Destiny
From the moment I met you,
I knew there was a fire between us
that even hard, driving rain could never put out.
From the moment we spoke,
I knew I’d spent my entire life
in search of your deep and passionate love.
From the moment we kissed,
I knew my heart was no longer mine
and I’d finally found my future.
From the moment we laughed,
I knew there would never be enough time
to share all the things I needed to share with you.
From the moment we danced,
I knew, at last, what the phrase ‘better half’ meant
and surrendered to your gentle touch.
From the moment we walked hand-in-hand,
I knew I’d discovered my partner
and that my dreams were suddenly within reach.
From the moment we lay together,
I knew I’d made it to heaven
and thanked God for blessing me with you.
From the moment you agreed to be my wife,
I knew my journey was now worth taking,
through days of sunshine –
or nights of hard, driving rain.
As her watering eyes read the final verse, the musician stopped playing, the restaurant went silent and I went down to one knee. I opened the ring box. “Isabella,” I said, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you be my wife…again?”
She never hesitated and dove into my arms. For a while, we just hugged.
“I love you so much,” she cried into my shoulder.
“I know,” I said. “But…”
She pushed away from me and looked into my eyes. “But what?”
“But I need your answer?” I said, grinning.
“Yes…the answer is YES!” she gasped and jumped back into my arms.
The crowd shared a collective sigh, and everyone was clapping when Bella and I returned to reality. It took a few moments before each table returned to its own conversation and half-eaten meals.
Chuckling, I introduced my beautiful wife to Gary, the musician. As they shook hands, Gary admitted, “I was so nervous.”
I bought the man a beer when Vic delivered two previously ordered dinners to our table. Though Bella couldn’t touch hers, I ate and listened to Gary fill the room with a soothing melody. By the time the chocolate covered strawberries arrived for dessert, Bella was emotionally spent. She grabbed me once more for a kiss. “This has been the perfect night,” she whispered.
“And for all these years…you’ve been the perfect wife, my dear.”
I shook my head. “It’ll never be over for us.” As we made our way to the limo, waves of nausea threatened to drown me. This is Bella’s perfect night, I told myself, our perfect night. Whatever you do…do not throw up now!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A few short weeks later, the wedding ceremony was held outdoors in the presence of family and a handful of close friends. As the Justice of the Peace recited his spiel, I gazed into my fiancee’s eyes and felt like crying. We shared so much love, but had so little time left. She was everything to me. “If I could live a thousand lives,” I told her, “I would choose you as my partner each and every time.”
As a final surprise to my beautiful bride, the reception was catered by Sagres Restaurant. We dined on the same Portuguese food we’d eaten all those years ago; roast pig-cacoila, chourico and pepper sandwiches, codfish, baked beans, favas, kale soup, stuffed quahogs, grilled sardines and spit-fire chickens. For dessert, a tray of malasadas, rice pudding and custard cups were washed down with jugs of sweet red wine.