Thursdays with Nicolo

As a teacher, Carina made 500 decisions a minute to keep the peace and make it through her days educating the future generation. Sometimes she wished she could turn in her adult card and let someone else make the decisions for awhile. Being an adult is no fun, too many choices, too many decisions, and just too much pressure to make the right ones. 

Thursday evening and again decisions to be made as Carina closed the convertible top and beeped the doors locked as she got out of her car. She looked around the downtown area, people were getting off work and starting to mingle and blow off some steam after a long work day. The downtown area was charming and full of local shops and restaurants. She purposefully parked a block away from her final destination so she could soak up the energy of the town and her surroundings. She used the walk to decompress from her stressful day and to convince herself she could really function as an adult.

Carina waited for the “walk” light and quickly crossed the street to the sidewalk. Dodging a group of teenagers, she weaved around the group and took a deep breath. People were not her thing. She was very much the stereotypical introverted elementary school librarian – much more comfortable surrounded by books and children than adults. She gazed longingly into the window of the local bar. She saw people laughing, talking, drinking, dancing, socializing, and being adults. Carina wished she could go in, imagined she had friends in there awaiting to welcome her and have a few drinks and a good time. Maybe. Someday. 

After a deep yearning sigh, Carina continued down the sidewalk and stopped outside her favorite Italian restaurant. She smiled at the hand painted sign above the door as she stepped into the enchanting old world restaurant.

“Ciao, Bella!” came from the kitchen as Carina slid out the chair at her preferred table in the corner so she could see the street and into the kitchen.  Carina waved to Nicolo. Nicolo was in his sixties and owned the authentic and cozy Italian restaurant. He flirted shamelessly with all the female customers but was harmless. Sinking into her chair, she looked around at the checkered tablecloths and Italian landscapes, and smiled. Some things never changed which was why Nicolo’s was part of her Thursday routine and dinner choice.

Carina looked up as the waitress brought out a water, an unsweet tea, and a coke to the table. One less decision to make, Carina thought and appreciated the effort, even if she did look like a crazy, dehydrated person.  “Let me know when you decide what you want on your pie.” The waitress winked, laid down three straws, smiled and then left Carina to decide on her pizza toppings. That should be an easy decision – right? Wrong. 

Carina stared at the familiar menu, with the grinning caricature of Nicolo holding a pie, and sighed. She had been here hundreds of times and every time her anxiety kicked in. She was an adult for heavens sake, surely she could order a pizza without it taking an act of congress and twenty minutes. She wiped her hands on her jeans and took a sip of the unsweet tea. Make a decision, Carina, she told herself with slight irritation.

Carina focused in on the crust choices – thin crust, pan crust, hand-tossed crust, deep dish, or stuffed crust. Bless, this should not be this difficult. 

She shook her head at laughed at the ridiculousness. She should just order the house special and call it good. The house pizza was perfect in every way and the logical choice. That would save a lot of frustration and headaches but that would be too easy.

Carina bit her bottom lip and looked over the entire topping list hoping for inspiration and a direction for her dinner. She was getting hungry.

Pepperoni. No.

Italian Sausage. No.

Onion. No.

Beef. No.

Green Pepper. Heck no.

Mushroom. Hmmmmm, maybe.

Chicken. No

Tomato. Blech.

Olives. Not today.

Ham, bacon, red onion, banana pepper. No. No. No. No.

This was an important decision. This was a commitment for two meals – her current one and leftovers for lunch tomorrow – she had to get this right! Closing her eyes, Carina took another sip of the cold tea and blew out her breath, puffing out her cheeks. She opened her eyes to see Nicolo sitting at her table smiling at her, just like he did every Thursday. 

“Prendere una decisione?”

Carina shook her head as he handed her the 500 silver lira coin he carried in his apron pocket. She smiled and flipped the coin high into the air, leaving her pie up to fate. And Nicolo.

Tails, the house special.

Heads, ham, pineapple, and jalapeños. 

Either way, Chicago-cut, of course, just to drive Nicolo crazy! 

The silver coin landed and they both looked down at the result.

“Bene.”

Good, she agreed, that decision was complete.

Nicolo swooped up the coin and headed off to the kitchen to make her pizza. She was grateful for Nicolo and his weekly intervention. Otherwise, she would never eat. She secretly enjoyed the weekly interaction and loved talking to the older man when he delivered the pizza to her table.

“Blue cheese, hun.” The waitress set down her salad and bread then shuffled off to the next table. Carina devoured her salad, she truly was hungry and the crisp vegetables with homemade dressing hit the spot. She finished her salad and her tea just as she saw Nicolo leave the kitchen, pizza in hand. 

“Bella.” Nicolo said as he set down the pizza and two plates on the table, kissed her cheek, and sat across from her. She grinned at the mostly-Chicago-cut house special and placed slices on both of the plates. Nicolo refused to eat his Chicago-cut so he always left two pieces cut in triangles. 

They ate their first slices in silence, enjoying the textures, the ambiance, and the company. 

“Bene?”

“Perfetto grazie.”

Carina leaned back in her chair, her hunger sated for the moment. She met Nicolo’s eyes, the same deep brown as hers, and laughed. She leaned forward and wiped sauce and flour from his cheek with her napkin. Carina eyed his apron, and asked, “Did any ingredients actually make it on the pizza?”

“Was the pizza not good?”

“The pizza was perfect, dad.” Carina placed another slice on each plate. She was thankful for Thursday traditions and not having to make a decision for the next few hours at least. She was not Carina the adult, she was Carina, Nicolo’s little girl and that suited her just fine.