A memory/April, 2006:

12 Jan

Ventnor, NJ; a wintry trip to the beach house. Our first trip of many.

Dining at a small Italian restaurant.

I ate linguini with white clam sauce. He had the night’s special, spaghetti with calamari.

We talked and shared as a new couple and I asked him how he liked his pasta.

“It’s good,” He told me, as he looked over my shoulder and out the window to the street behind me, “but hey, see that car right there? That’s the car I’d like to get you some day.” Pointing to a black SUV.

A family car.

And in that moment I knew that he didn’t really like his pasta special

but that he loved me.

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