CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

TIMOTHY DROVE PAST Cheryl’s house and parked Scoot’s truck down the street.

“Hi, I didn’t see you drive up.”

Timothy poked his head inside the door and looked around for her parents. He whispered, “I didn’t want anyone to see me pull up in my reliable heap.”

“Oh, please. Who cares? My parents wouldn’t think a thing of it. They know what’s going on with you and respect how you’re facing up to all of this. My father likes to contrast you to all the hippies he sees on television. He calls you a real man. No, you wouldn’t embarrass them.”

“Okay, enough serious talk. I’m here to have fun tonight,” Timothy said.

“Long overdue. Let’s go,” Cheryl said.

“Will you drive?”

“What, the truck again?” she said.

“No, I’m thinking about drinking my fair share tonight.”

They walked to Cheryl’s car, and it started right up. Timothy smiled.

“Why are you smiling?”

“I don’t know. Nothing, really. It’s kind of silly. Since I’ve been driving Scoot’s truck, every time it starts on the first try, I smile. It’s a different experience from my car. You know, the simple things in life.”

“That’s funny. Well, tonight smile all you want,” she said.

They drove to the restaurant. Mantia’s was special to them. Good food. Romantic. Private. A good place to celebrate special events. An immigrant couple owned Mantia’s. They came from the old country and brought family recipes with them. People could get Italian food in a lot of restaurants in Saint Louis because of the Italian area called The Hill, but there was only one place to get Mama Mantia’s recipes. The hostess sat them in a booth in the back of the dining room. Timothy and Cheryl liked to sit close to each other. They ordered a couple of beers and studied the menu.

“I don’t know why I’m studying this thing. It’s either spaghetti or cannelloni. No one makes cannelloni like Mama Mantia,” Timothy said.

“You’re right. I want both,” Cheryl said.

“How about I order one, and you order the other, and we share?” he said.

“Good call. It’s nice to see you in such a good mood. You’re under so much pressure I worry about you.” Cheryl cupped her hand over his.

The waitress delivered their drinks and said she would return for their dinner order.

“I feel good. It started this morning after exams. At this point, I’ve got a couple of decisions to make, which I will not make until tomorrow. Tonight, it’s all about us.”

He held up his beer and tapped her bottle.

“To another semester under your belt.” Cheryl returned the toast.

They sat there in silence for a few moments until the waitress returned to take their orders. As planned, they ordered one of each, spaghetti and cannelloni.

“What if I decide not to share?” Timothy said.

“Then you would probably need to find a ride home,” Cheryl said.

He laughed.

“How’s your mom today?” she asked.

“To me, she looks about the same, but Leslie thinks she’s worse. I see her every day, so I don’t notice small changes. Leslie does.”

“I know she’s worried. I talked to her yesterday.”

“Is that when you told her about the car?”

“Yes. You don’t need to be that secretive with your family,” Cheryl said.

Timothy stared at the label on his beer bottle before nodding his agreement.

“Mom asked about you before I left,” Timothy said.

“Really? That’s nice.”

“Yeah, I told her you asked about her, and she was pleased to hear it.”

“Well, bless her heart. She’s probably scared to death,” Cheryl said.

“A little, I think,” he said. “She doesn’t say she is, but it’s natural for her to be.”

“Of course,” Cheryl reassured him, something at which she excelled.

The waitress brought their salads and a basket of fresh bread.

“Thanks,” Cheryl said to the waitress. She looked at Timothy and said, “This bread is my downfall. I could eat that whole basket myself.”

Timothy reached for it. “Do you want me to move it?”

“Not unless you want to draw back a stump.” She laughed.

They ate in silence until Timothy broke it between bites of salad.

“I think I’ve made my decision about Dez’s offer. I’m going by tomorrow to talk to him about it.

“Really? What did you decide?” she said.

“I don’t want to say anything tonight. I want to sleep on it one more night and wake up to one less set of things to deal with, but I’m leaning in one direction.”

“Which way?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I talk to Dez. I know this sounds cryptic, but I don’t mean it that way,” he said.

“That’s not fair. You’re teasing me.”

“Absolutely. What happens if I wake up tomorrow with a hangover and change my mind? You’ll think I’m fickle.”

“You are fickle,” she said.

“About some things but not about you.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. They finished their meal and sat for a while enjoying their drinks. They decided to cap off the evening with pistachio-flavored gelato and a cappuccino. Old-country style.

Cheryl drove back to her house to give Timothy time to absorb his alcohol.

Cheryl’s parents were already in bed when they got home, which meant they had the kitchen to themselves. They talked some more over the cocoa. Timothy did most of the talking. She smiled as he shared his feelings. Alcohol loosened his tongue.

“I needed this tonight to clear my head,” he said. “Thank you.”

“I know you did, and you’re welcome.”

“You seem to know what I need more than I do,” he said.

“That’s pretty common in good relationships,” Cheryl smiled. “One partner knows what’s good for the other, even if the other doesn’t agree or see it.”

“Again, you’re right,” Timothy said and leaned forward to kiss Cheryl.

They said good night, which took a while, and he drove home. When he got home and changed for bed, he lay there for a while thinking about the past few days and the conversation he would have with Dez.

What would it feel like to have a few weeks of this? No work. No studies. No one to answer to. No bills. No problems.

Restful thoughts to carry him to sleep.