Today's Special is the Jerk-Chicken Salad - Chapter 12: Remembering the Picnic

Gio was pacing by the front door of the hushed restaurant when Betty came out of the bathroom. Carrying her purse in her arms, neatly dressed in the silk blouse, wool slacks, and leather boots, she walked around the bar and towards him

Smiling with bright-red lipstick-coated lips, she had her hair smoothly combed and caught up under the hair clip, with the elegant scarlet hibiscus blossom, missing a few petals, pinned above her ear.

Betty looked around her as she walked, observing the polished wooden bar, its counter, the espresso machine, the jar of biscotti, the ten glass vases holding nine sprigs of hibiscus flowers, the wrought iron tables pushed into the corners of the room with chairs piled upside down on them, the shiny black and white tile floor with a wet patch where the vomit had been, and the broken surf boards displayed on the walls.

"I never heard the stories about the surf boards."

"Hilda can tell you," said Gio, his eyes scanning over her, memorizing her. His mood was somber, unhurried.

"It isn't the same," said Betty quietly. "I want to hear the stories from you."

"Next time," replied Gio. They both knew that a next time was unlikely. "You should go. Do you want me to give you a ride on my bike?"

"No," said Betty. "I don't want to be seen with you."

"I thought … maybe," said Gio. "I'll call a cab."

"No, I don't want them to know I was here."

"I'll call a friend," said Gio. "Will that be okay?"

"No, no need. I'm going to take Hilda's scooter."

"Then drive carefully," said Gio, trying to smile so she'd know it was a joke.

Betty chuckled. "I'll try."

Betty stood and fidgeted with the gold-chain bracelet. "Hilda just texted me. Bobby's team was eliminated so he's flying here tonight. You can expect them to drop by tomorrow morning. Not as early as today."

"That'll be fun," said Gio, his mouth smiled but his eyes did not. "I'm looking forward to seeing them."

"May I keep the hair clip?"

"Of course you may have it," said Gio, his eyes twinkling, "although it'll be expensive to replace."

Betty laughed.

"I'll never be able to wear it," said Betty, "it's too cheap, but I want to keep it. Whenever I wear my hair up I'll imagine it's being held by this clip. The one you gave me."

Betty fumbled with the gold-chain bracelet's clasp, slipped it off her wrist and held it in her palm, stroking it with her thumb.

Gio saw a red scrape around her wrist.

Betty noticed him looking at the mark and smiled. "I was such a badass they cuffed me."

Gio chuckled. "You go, girl."

"I want you to have this," said Betty, holding her hand out and offering him the bracelet.

"I couldn't take it," said Gio, shaking his head. "It's too much."

"Please, take it," said Betty. "I have a feeling I won't need it anymore and I want you to have it."

"Won't Daniel notice it's missing?" said Gio. "It'll cause trouble."

"If he asks," said Betty. "I'll tell him I must have left it somewhere. He'll believe that because it'll be the truth."

Betty took Gio's left hand and fastened the bracelet onto his wrist. "There. It looks good on you."

Gio rotated his wrist slowly sliding the glittering bracelet up and down. "I'll keep it for you. If you want it back, just ask."

"I won't," said Betty. "Do you ever go to New York?"

"Rarely," said Gio. "It's hard to leave the restaurant and anyway, my family and friends like to visit me here."

"Like Bobby and Hilda," said Betty, blushing. "I can't believe how long it took me to figure out it wasn't an accident that we came here. I'm a complete idiot."

Gio smiled. "You should talk to your sister more often."

"I know. I will," said Betty. "But when you do come to New York, you'll visit them, right?"

"Yes, for sure."

"I'll be there," said Betty, gazing into Gio's eyes.

"You will?"

"I will," said Betty. "I want to reminisce with you about that concert at the Blue Note."

"It was a good one," said Gio sadly. "I remember that."

"And the picnic too."

"You'll have to remind me, what was the weather like?"

"Nice," said Betty. She looked out the window. The sun shone brightly, reflecting from the choppy waves and the shiny palm leaves bending in the ocean breeze. Happy families with joyful toddlers were playing on the beach and splashing in the water. She could hear the faint sound of seagull's cries and children's shouts. "A day like this."

"Now I remember," said Gio, his gaze following Betty's.

"And Rome," whispered Betty.

"Ah, Rome," exhaled Gio, his eyes glistening, "don't get me started."

"We had such good times there." Betty wiped her eyes. "I'd better go."

Betty gazed at Gio, taking a lingering admiring look at his long tousled hair that revealed a glimpse of gold hoop earrings, his tanned, muscular body, board shorts, and bare feet. She studied his face, the curve of his mouth, the color of his lips, and his sweet, sad, brown eyes with a depth and expression that mirrored her own.

"I'm going to ask Hilda to take a picture of you," said Betty. "I want you to look just like you do this minute. Will you pose for her?"

"Sure, of course," said Gio. He put his hand on the doorknob. "Ready?"

"In a minute. Hilda's going to put the picture in her vacation photo album but before she glues it down I want to write something on the back of it."

"What?"

"Today's date, April 4, 2012, and 'Giovanni Rossi, Betty's ex-boyfriend' is that okay?"

"Oh," said Gio, "Betty's ex-boyfriend. Okay. Yes. B, I'd like that. Thanks for asking."

"I'm ready," said Betty.

Gio held the door open wide for Betty. "After you."

"No, stay inside," said Betty. "I'm fine."

"Keep your chin up," said Gio. "Stick up for yourself. Don't settle."

"Yes, I will," said Betty.

"Happy birthday in a couple of weeks. I'll bake you a cake. I'll make it the day's special."

"Thank you. I'll imagine eating a piece. Thank you for everything."

Betty quickly hugged and kissed Gio goodbye, stepped out the door, and hurried across the road to Hilda's scooter. She wheeled it to the road and stopped to look back at the restaurant.

Crowded between leaning palms and dense hibiscus shrubs, the restaurant's cheery green and white awning flapped and snapped in the brisk wind, and its yellow paint and whimsical white and pink sign marked what Betty thought was the cutest, littlest, finest Italian-American-Bahamian restaurant this side of paradise.

Taking a deep breath as she faced the treacherous scooter, she steeled herself and then mounted it, riding slowly and sedately down the gravel lane, past the thick lush forest, and around the bend.

Looking out the window, Gio watched Betty cross the road and pick up the scooter, shrinking back when she looked at the restaurant so she wouldn't see him, moving forward again when she turned her attention back to the scooter.

He observed her proudly as she conquered her fear of the scooter and rode along the lane, watching until she turned the corner and rode out of sight.

He continued to look at where she'd disappeared long after the small puff of gravel dust she raised blew away, unaware of the faint wistful smile lingering on his wet face.