It was a Category 5 tornado and totally leveled my neighborhood, killing seven of my neighbors. It slammed into my home at 3:00 o’clock in the morning, just about the time Jimmy had me clutching the sheets and screaming with delight. Curiously, one of the surviving witnesses to the storm told a reporter that she saw a gigantic bolt of lightning hit my house about 5 minutes before the twister finished it off. Recovered pieces of one wall confirmed the lightning strike.
The loss of my lovely home, the destruction of my neighborhood and, above all, the tragic loss of life shattered me but it was even more devastating to Jimmy.
Upon hearing the news he crossed himself, fell to his knees, and cried out to St. Catherine of Alexandria, giving her thanks for sparing me. Then he pulled me to the floor next to him and buried his head in my breasts and cried. I rocked him like a baby for several hours.
Honestly? He wasn’t quite himself for at least a week.
It was Jimmy’s sister who told me about Sophia.
Sophia was killed in a car accident while driving home in a severe thunderstorm – exactly thirty years to the day that Jimmy and I met. Sweet Sophia had been in America less than three weeks; she and Jimmy had been married only two months.
His sister told me Jimmy lived without finding true love for three decades. In all those years he never met what she called “the right woman” (her words) until he met me.
Jimmy’s never discussed Sophia’s death with me and I respect that boundary. I know he keeps one picture of her in his wallet but I’m not jealous. I love him all the more for his ability to love so deeply. I’ve never doubted his love for me; he’s a man capable of great and lasting love.
Jimmy renamed our restaurant Ekaterini’s shortly after we returned from our honeymoon. We toured the Greek Islands for ten days and spent five days with thousands of Jimmy’s relatives in Athens. I thought the Irish were bad when it comes to cousins but believe me the Greeks are worse. All Greeks are truly related to all other Greeks. I swear it’s true.
For the record, I want to say my husband, lover, and best friend is the least controlling, most gentle man I know. There is nothing he’d deny me and he’s never once said he would “not allow” me to do anything; he’s never repeated those strange words that he spoke so emphatically the night of the storm – the night lightning changed everything.
Like all successful couples we have our rules: I’ve promised I’ll never willingly drive in bad weather and he’s promised to replace every strand of pearls he breaks, which he has to do rather frequently.
Eet ees nize.
Tonight we’re celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary. Jimmy closed Ekaterini’s so that we can host a private dinner party with 700 of our closest relatives and friends. Of course, four of our guests are Doreen, Sue, Gail and Therese. Jimmy adores them; they are his honorary sisters-in-law.
And as you might imagine, I intend to wear pearls.
What more can I say except Opaah!
Author’s Note:
Opa! -- written here as Opaah! to stress the phonetic emphasis on the “aah!” – is a Greek exclamatory expression that can be used in many ways. A Greek friend in Chicago explained it this way:
“At the beginning of any Greek celebration it means ‘bring out the foul-smelling wormwood liquor!’ A few hours later it starts to mean ‘let’s break all the dishes!’ In the morning it means ‘oh sheet, who’s gonna’ clean up all these damn broken dishes?’”
Opaah! will forever remind me of Greek restaurants in my hometown Chicago where delighted cries of “Opaah!” are shouted tableside by diners whenever a waiter ignites a thick slice of alcohol-soaked Saganaki cheese – turning an otherwise ordinary cheese into a sizzling flambé of truly Olympian wonder.
Opaah!
About the Author
Maureen Gill is a native Chicagoan whose fresh style of writing has been compared to a gale wind off Lake Michigan – powerful, exhilarating, and nothing to be taken lightly. Maureen is a versatile writer who likes to explore different writing styles and genre. Pearls for Jimmy, Fondue, Enchiladas & Love… Chicago Style and Chain Reaction are her first adult romance short stories about the reawakening of great sexual passion in people who have given up all hope of finding love. Her novel January Moon is a fast-paced, suspense-filled crime novel that also mirrors themes of love and renewal. When she’s not working on her second and third novels, March Storm and Wingman, or writing more short stories, she is probably thinking about writing more novels and short stories. Follow Maureen on Facebook and Twitter or feel free to email her at [email protected]. She’d love to hear from you!
Pearls for Jimmy Page 3