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Oliver was in no hurry. He languidly perused the fruit isle of his favourite local Deli. Deli + he called it to himself as it was more of a miniature supermarket but with the added bonus of quality, local ingredients plus Italian, Spanish and French delicacies you didn’t find in most grocery stores.
He picked up a clementine, brought it up to his nose, smelt its citrusy peel, then placed two in his basket. He didn’t need bananas, there were two or three at home just turning yellow, perfect for his pallet. The nectarines looked good but he wasn’t in the mood for anything too sweet right now. The avocados were nice and firm and would be soft enough to eat in a couple of days so he picked two of those out. The peaches. Yeah, the peaches he could do without right now. It had been three years and still it…so no peaches. Not today anyway.
As he turned the corner onto the fresh and dried pasta isle he was already deep in thought about dinner he was going to prepare that night so paid no mind to the man looking intently at his list who was coming from the other direction. As their hand held, metal baskets clashed it awoke the other man from his gaze. ‘Scuzsi.’, he muttered and briefly looked up from his task and their eyes met, ‘Oh, it’s you.’ he said.
‘Elio!’ Oliver replied, his eyebrows raised in surprise to find him of all people standing there. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked quizzically.
Looking around him, theatrically, Elio replied. ‘Well I’m not Scottish Country Dancing, Oliver. It’s a grocery store, I’m grocery shopping.’ Oliver looked at him with a teacher’s stare that Elio did not appreciate. ‘I could easily ask the same of you.’ Elio continued with the slightest of barbs to his tone.
Oliver scratched the back of his neck. ‘Yeah, well the same, obviously. It’s just a shock to see you here that’s all.’
‘A good one or bad one?’ Elio asked with a wry smile on his face.
‘I think you know the answer to that already.’ Oliver replied with a hopeful smile as he shifted his basket from one hand to the next.
‘Clementine’s?!’ said Elio, peaking at Oliver’s haul. ‘They would go nicely with some crème fraise. The sweet bitterness against-‘
‘-against the creaminess of the crème fraise, yes it’s a great combination. Simple but delicious.’
There was a lull in their conversation and for a moment could, for all the world to see, seems a little uncomfortable. ‘Well I wouldn’t want to keep you from your shopping’ Oliver finally broke the silence. ‘and I’m going down the pasta isle.’
‘Well, being Italian it would rude of me not to give you some advice on your selection.’ Elio replied. ‘If you want it of course.’ and began to walk from whence he came without waiting for a reply. ‘What are you making?’ he asked.
Oliver blushed a little before he replied and looked sheepishly down at his feet for a moment. ‘Well it was supposed to be a surprise.’ he began.
Elio nodded nonchalantly. ‘For someone special or a special occasion?’
Oliver shrugged like an Italian. ‘Both I would say.’
‘That’s sweet Oliver.’, he replied truthfully. ‘They are lucky to have you.’
Oliver smiled at him with what could have passed as relief. ‘You mean it?’ he asked.
‘Of course.’ Elio responded. ‘I’m glad you’re happy.’
‘Couldn’t be any happier.’ said Oliver with a deep grin.
As they walked on slowly, both flitting their eyes to all the different shapes and sizes of pasta on display, Elio asked. ‘So...the occasion?’
‘Yes, sorry. Anniversary. Our second to be precise.’
‘Serious then?’
‘Very.’ Oliver replied openly. ‘I can’t foresee there will be anyone else.’
Elio sighed deeply. ‘Well you’d better make sure your dinner is perfect then. What were you thinking?’
Oliver stopped mid isle and picked up some 00 pasta flour. ‘Gnocchi alla Sorrentina.’
‘Ooof.’ Elio puffed out his cheeks. ‘You do remember that’s one of Mafalda’s dishes? It’s a lot to take on, especially if you’re going to make your gnocchi from scratch.’
‘Well, I wasn’t going to tell you in case you were upset about it but I actually got the recipe from the lady herself.’, he replied sheepishly.
Elio gave him a side glance. ‘You asked Mafalda?’
‘I wrote and asked…do you mind?’
Elio waved him off with a hand. ‘Of course I don’t. I just hope you do it justice because she’ll know Oliver…somehow she’ll know.’
Oliver shook his head worriedly and laughed. ‘I don’t doubt it for a second so I hope I do.’
‘I can see you already have most of the ingredients.’ Elio said, taking another look in Oliver’s basket.
‘Yup. Just the basil left.’
‘Right, well...’ Elio began. ‘…as I have all I need…I guess I’ll leave you to it!?’
Oliver nodded stoically. ‘Yeah…I guess so.’
After a brief pause and out of the blue, Elio went on his tip toes and gave Oliver a kiss on the lips then, as quickly as he could, turned away and walked towards the cashiers desk at the front of the store. Without looking back round he shouted. ‘And make sure you get the fresh Basil this time. If you come home with that ferkakte dried stuff again you’ll find all your belongings in garbage bags on our side walk.’
Oliver grinned in his direction. ‘Message received and understood.’ he said.