The mind is a fragile thing

A Story by Rookie

My wife and I were seated outside by the fence of a small Italian restaurant. She loves little Italy so I bring her there once in a while. The menu is pricey, but we try something new every time. She said that our lives will be complete once we have tasted everything. That will never happen, as the chef is creative and we never see the exact same menu twice.

But I laugh and pretend like it will one day happen. It's more fun that way.

We had finished our meal and she was looking at the deserts. Deserts were extra expensive there because the restaurant was known for them. I am absolutely sure they were amazing, though we had never tasted them. She liked to look at the menu, ask about the water's favorite and say she wasn't in the mood for sweets. It would annoy me with anyone else, but she had this sweet way of saying it. Then when we leave she would tell me what she would have ordered. The last two times it has been the World Class Tiramisu. It won some prize or something.

My thoughts were interrupted by an older man that stopped by the sidewalk. He was wearing a stained white shirt and old faded jeans. There was nothing wrong with the way he walked but there was something about his mannerisms that wasn't right. He yelled some gibberish at the other end of the street to an invisible participant of his conversation. He stayed there a while, with his back to us. His curly greasy hair was black with some gray patches. Then a cook came out of the restaurant and lit a cigarette. He offered one to old the man, but the man politely refused. Then they chatted like they were old pals. The man with the greasy hair would talk normal for a bit then yell something out. Then he would return to the conversation like nothing had happened. The cook would patiently wait for him to finish his outburst and would continue to talk to him. That went on for a while. My wife looked at them and back at me in surprise. The old man obviously wasn't "all there", and one of the cooks must know him or has seen him around.

We were too busy gawking at them to notice that our waiter had come to the table. He must have been there a while because he said:

"This is Massimo"

We looked at him in surprise. He continued with a heavy Italian accent:

"He was married to the most beautiful girl in Little Italy. Every man wanted her, but he was the one to win her heart. She was the happiest girl in the world, could brighten your day with just one smile, You know? Then they had a baby. You'd think they couldn't get any happier, but they were. They used to bring him and sit right there."

He pointed to a table in the corner.

"Most beautiful child, bright blue eyes. Looked like an angel, you know, exact copy of her."He looked up, with a wide smile on his face, head shaking left to right.

"Why is he..." my wife paused, I'm not sure she wanted to know, I'm not sure I wanted to either. Obviously life had happened to him, in some way made him crazy like this.

"He was a successful man..." he said, “... And one day he came back home from work. Opened the door and sees her and his baby boy murdered." He said shaking his head

My wife let out a soft gasp. The tears in her eyes, were now on the verge of spilling over onto her cheeks. I just wanted to hold her.

"Massimo lost everything after: his business, his house, his mind." The waiter looked over to poor Massimo, who was now far down the street and murmuring loudly.

"He just couldn't take it, you know"

At that moment a terrible thought crossed my mind. What would I do, if this happened to me. What if I lost her suddenly and unexpectedly. What if I don't get to spend the rest of my life with her like I had hoped. What if all the memories we had up until this point are all there will ever be. I would rather go insane than live with the thought of having lost her.

The waiter looked at my wife, seeing how visibly upset she was, he apologized for ruining our dinner.

"He's a happy in his misery, crazy old man" he said trying to consolidate her

He poured more of the cheap wine in her glass. She smiled at him politely.

"How about some desert?"

"She'll have the tiramisu" I said quickly.

"Excellent choice" And he disappeared into the restaurant.