Broken Promises and Ripped Dresses

It Had To Be Asked

At least this menu actually had English in it. I just picked the first thing that caught my attention: blueberry pancakes.

The stout, bald man came back over to our table with a notepad and pen. "Are you two ready to order?"

"Yes," Andrew and I both said a little too quickly at the exact same time.

Andrew cleared his throat with a cough. "I'll have the vegetable omelet."

The waiter wrote it down on his notepad. "And what about you?" he asked, turning to me.

"And I'll have the blueberry pancakes," I answered, handing him back the menu.

"Ok, coming right up!" He left the table to type in our orders.

A thick layer of silence filled the air between us.

If I just hadn't thought of the stupid question, none of this awkwardness would be happening. If I hadn't taken my fucking hand out of underneath his there wouldn't be any of this tension.

 

Andrew looked directly into my eyes. I quickly looked away. I couldn't quite bear to look at him. I didn't want to bring it up yet. Not right there on the roof.

"It sure is beautiful, isn't it?" I asked timidly.

"Yeah it is," he replied. "But not as beautiful as you."

I mustered up the courage to at least lift up the corners of my mouth into a small, shy smile. "Thanks..." I mumbled.

"Angela, seriously. What's wrong?" he insisted. "Tell me what's going through your head right now. I'm not a mind reader, but I know something's up?"

"Really, it's nothing. It's just..." I said. "I don't know."

Andrew looked stumped.

Looking around me I inspected the other people at tables eating breakfast.

There was a family of four laughing and munching their food: two sons and their parents. A cute couple, a few tables away from us, holding hands and kissing each other over the table.

A man eating by himself, quietly chuckling to himself as he read a book I didn't recognize. Also a  few people farther away from us including a mom and dad were feeding their baby daughter something from a small dish.

All smiling. All happy and laughing.

That's what you're supposed to do on a roof overlooking the Pantheon. Why couldn't Andrew and I be doing that?

I know why: because I had to remember that stupid thing that had been nagging at my skin.