A White Coat Is My Closet (17 page)

I looked at Sergio and was surprised to find that the fire that had been in his eyes not two seconds before, seemingly stoked by irritation, had been completely extinguished, and he was smiling expectantly at me. “Come on, if you have any intention of being able to keep up with me biking, you’re going to have to eat to build your strength. Let’s get the bike loaded.”

I was still reeling from having been yelled at, and in response, my body had shut down. It felt like it was going to take monumental effort to even move much less to lift the bike. Additionally, I was confused by the fact that looking at him, you’d never guess he’d even raised his voice. The moment had passed. He was calm and apparently eager to get going.

I lowered my gaze and spoke more to the ground than to him. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

He extracted his head from the car and walked over to look at me. Now it was his turn to be confused. “What do you mean? You want to ride somewhere other than the beach?” He tried to catch my gaze.

I slowly looked up and answered. His outburst had so affected me, I was thankful my voice didn’t waver. Sometimes, when I was feeling the simultaneous combination of embarrassment and anger, my voice would start to quiver, almost like I was trying to hold back tears. “I guarantee I wouldn’t have ripped your interior, Sergio. You didn’t have to yell.”

The expression of confusion that spread across his face seemed genuine. “What do you mean, Zack? I wasn’t yelling.”

Now, though my anger didn’t really escalate, it overwhelmed any residual feelings of embarrassment. My voice strengthened as I challenged him. “Of course you yelled, Sergio. You screamed at me to be more careful of the roof.” Then, in hopes of exonerating myself from the implied accusation that I had been careless, I let my gaze drop back down to the pavement and said a little more softly, “It wasn’t necessary. I was fully intending to be careful.”

Rather than going on the defensive, Sergio reached out and gently grabbed my shoulders between his hands. “Listen, Zack.” He took one of his hands off my shoulder and gently lifted my chin so I had to look at him. “I’m Italian. We don’t even know when we’re screaming. It’s just part of our regular conversation. Just wait until you meet my sister. Then you’ll hear screaming. You’d think we hated each other if you judged our conversation by the volume.” He began to offer an apologetic grin. “Sorry.” His smile broadened. “We’re expressive! If it makes you feel any better, it’s how we talk to family. Don’t worry; you’ll know if I’m really angry.” He gave my chin a slight squeeze, then pushed my shoulder to give me a friendly nudge. “Now, are we going bike riding or not?”

“Yeah.” I felt a smile creeping across my face and a slight blush. “We’re going. I guess I’m just not used to it. Next time, give me a warning if I’m walking anywhere near a landmine.”

He leaned into me and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. As he leaned back, he winked. “I told you, I’m Italian. We come without warnings.” He offered me another grin, then returned to help navigate my bike into his car. “Now can we get going? You’ll really see grumpy if my stomach is left empty for too long.”

I was so taken aback by his spontaneous gesture of affection that I could do little more than stand there smiling like an idiot. I had to shake myself in response to his prodding to once more engage in the task of loading my bike. I couldn’t help myself from at least getting in an innocent dig. “You sure you trust me to do this? If you’d like, I can wrap my bike in bubble wrap first.”

I heard his answer through the back of the car. “If you don’t move your ass, we won’t even need the bikes. Remember, I have to be to work at five. It’s already a quarter after eight. That gives us less than nine hours. At the rate you’re moving, we won’t even have the car loaded by then.”

“Okay, okay. Grab the wheel. But be careful this time. I don’t want your interior fabric to scratch my bike.”

Because he had taken his sunglasses off to lean into the car, I could see him roll his eyes. “I knew I should have suggested we go roller blading. How long would it take you to throw your skates in the backseat?”

I smiled. “Not long. But they give my feet blisters. You’d have to carry me back.”

“Maybe it would be better if we just went to a matinee. I’m going to starve to death before we even pull away from the curb.”

Between the two of us, the bike slid into the back of his car pretty effortlessly, and I carefully pushed the hatchback closed. He withdrew from the passenger seat door, put his sunglasses back on, and stepped aside to create room for me to get into the car. As he held the door open, he waved his hand like a chauffeur gesturing to an important client. “Breakfast awaits, sir.”

I dropped into the seat, laughing. “Hope you don’t expect a tip.”

“Of course not.” He paused a beat. “It will be easier if I just let you buy my breakfast.” He shut the door and began walking around the car before I could answer.

When he slid into the driver’s seat beside me, he was still smiling, but his tone was more serious. “All right. Where are we going to eat? And did I mention that I was hungry?”

“I’ll eat anything.” Then, as if to avoid any additional misunderstandings, I offered a single clarification: “Except sushi. I don’t do sushi.” I looked at him and tried to sound serious when I asked, “You didn’t want sushi for breakfast, did you? Is sushi the Italian breakfast of champions?”

The context of the joke was lost on him, and he just wrinkled his nose. “I’d prefer eggs and pancakes. You want to go to the Morning Grind? It’s early enough that we shouldn’t have to wait for a table.”

“Perfect.” I pulled my glasses back over my eyes and looked straight ahead. “Drive, my good man. There’s a bike path requiring my presence.” I tried to give my best impression of a business executive, but the impersonation was ruined when I started to laugh. It was pretty lame anyway.

They still had a fair number of empty tables on the patio at the Morning Grind, and we were escorted immediately over to one close to the fountain. A fine mist emanated from the water flowing off the fountain’s edge, so though the table was in the sun, the temperature was pleasant. The hostess dropped menus in front of us and offered a parting smile as she informed us that our waiter would be over to take our orders shortly.

I reveled in anticipation of the day. Delicious breakfast, perfect weather, an afternoon of biking… and the entire time spent with Sergio. I couldn’t imagine a better prospect.

I picked up the menu and began to contemplate the choices. After not more than a minute, without shifting my eyes from the considerable number of options, I absentmindedly asked, “What sounds good to you?”

I glanced up and was a little startled that rather than having picked up the menu, Sergio was just looking at me, smiling. He turned his lips up in an even bigger grin. “Such intensity. Is that a menu or are you studying quantum physics? I’d settled on eggs and pancakes before we’d even loaded the bikes.”

I shrugged and returned my attention to the menu. “Okay, so now I know you’re a ‘back to the basics’ kind of guy. I’m more a ‘variety is the spice of life’
type.” I didn’t look up but couldn’t suppress a grin.

His chuckle carried across the table. “We’ll see which one of us ends up being the most predictable.”

“Really?” I looked at him over the top of the menu and gave him an inquisitive smile. “Care to make a prediction?”

He scoffed teasingly. “Between the two of us? You’re definitely going to be the most predictable.” He then relaxed into his chair. “But don’t take my word for it. Let’s just see how the day plays out.”

I laughed as I set the menu down. “You’re probably right. But,” I said as I looked at him expectantly, “I’m going to have the egg scramble tossed with pasta. Did you predict that? Pasta; it more likely should have been your choice.”

He held his palms up defensively. “No, the thing is, I would have predicted you would succumb to stereotypes. And,” he said, smiling smugly, “it would appear that I’m right.”

“Okay, Mr. All American Breakfast. I cry uncle. I’m predictable, you’re spontaneous.”

His grin transformed immediately into a look of confusion. “What does that have to do with calling me your uncle?”

“Your uncle? No, I’m sorry.” I shook my head and smiled apologetically. “That’s slang. When someone cries uncle it means they give up. Your English is so good I sometimes forget it’s your second language and you’re not familiar with all our slang.”

Rather than being offended, he grinned, his smile spreading quickly across his face. “Yeah, this American slang thing sometimes gets me into trouble. One of my customers became a little apprehensive the other day when I told her that our minestrone soup had everything
under
the kitchen sink. She looked like she was afraid I was going to feed her Drano.”

I laughed. “Who would guess that one of the ingredients in Osvaldo’s secret recipe included Comet?”

The waitress swept over to our table and introduced herself. “Hey, you guys. Welcome to the Morning Grind. I’m Jennifer. Can I bring you something to drink?”

“Hi, Jennifer. Sorry you have to work. A beautiful Saturday morning should be anything but a grind.” I smiled, hoping she’d appreciate a little humor, then said, “I think we’re ready to order.”

“What’ll it be?” She took her pad out of her smock pocket and touched her pen to it expectantly.

I looked across the table and grinned. “Go ahead, Sergio. You decided yesterday.”

Rather than looking at me, he looked up at Jennifer and offered a hugely flirtatious smile. “You can ignore him. He’s just grumpy because thus far this morning, he hasn’t been right about anything. I’ll have two eggs over easy with bacon and a short stack of pancakes. Also, I’d like a small glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.” He handed her the menu, nodded in my direction, then shook his head disapprovingly while silently mouthing the word, “Grumpy.”

I too handed her the menu. “I’m in an excellent mood, Jennifer. He’s just sore because his spontaneity score dropped this morning. I’d like the egg scramble with pasta and a cup of coffee. Thanks.” I looked at Sergio and tried to look victorious.

Jennifer was completely unfazed as she tucked her pad back into her pocket. “Got it. Breakfast for two grumps, neither of whom can suppress their shit-eating grins. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were both about ready to burst with happiness.” Then she smiled. “Don’t worry, we have two Miss Congeniality crowns—one for each of you.” She winked as she walked away from the table.

I tried to look disgruntled. “See what you did? You blew our cover. Now she thinks we’re gay.” I sat back, huffed, but then let my smile creep up. “She probably even thinks we’re on a date.”

Sergio raised a quizzical brow. “Don’t worry, when she gets back, I’ll set her straight.”

I laughed. “I suspect she’s already straight. We’re the ones she thinks are gay.”

He rolled his eyes. “Then you can wear the crown. Maybe it can substitute for a bike helmet.”

“Hey, she said they had two. We’ll both have to wear one. We’ll be mistaken for brothers. Or sisters,” I said with a grin.

He looked up and held my gaze for a second. “Would that be better than being mistaken for lovers?” He let the question hang in the air.

I casually reached for my water and answered flatly, plainly wanting my answer to have two interpretations. “That might not be such a bad mistake.” I held his eyes and smiled around the glass as I begin to take a sip from it.

His confidence unflappable, he just smirked and said, “We’ll see after a day bicycling together if this was a mistake or not.”

I tried to match his confidence. “Only one way to find out.” I raised my water glass in a toast. “We’re at breakfast. So far so good.” Then I grinned. “I’m the one who’s predictable, and I predict that not only will this not have been a mistake, but it will have been a good thing.”

He smiled too. “I said you were predictable, not psychic.” Then he reached for his water to mimic my toast. “But for what it’s worth, here’s to an accurate prediction.”

I lifted my glass again and clicked it against his. “Doctor by day, psychic hotline by night. And, just so you know,” I said, grinning, “I’m never wrong.”

“Really? Never wrong?” He set his glass down, and his eyes sparkled with amusement. “We shouldn’t be wasting our time biking. We should be playing the lottery.”

I did my best to look offended. “The accuracy of my predictions is limited to issues of the heart. I don’t waste my talents on monetary gain.”

He looked disappointed. “In that case, keep your predictions a secret. I don’t want anyone predicting my heart attack. I’d rather it be a surprise.”

I frowned at him and acted like his skepticism was misdirected. “Oh ye of little faith. You may doubt my predictions now, but I guarantee that by the end of the day, you’ll be admitting this was the best day you’ve ever had.” I paused. “Well, maybe not the best day, but a pretty damn good one.”

Not long after, Jennifer returned with our breakfasts. The food was great, the coffee was strong, and the conversation between us was easy. We continued to get to know one another, the mutual teasing was enjoyable, and we laughed a lot.

When the bill came, we both reached for our wallets, and rather than have any uncomfortable discussion about who was going to pay or how we were going to split it, we each just laid a twenty onto the tray. When Jennifer returned with our change, I calculated a little over a 20 percent tip, then divided the remainder between us. Sergio casually looked down at the tray as if he was completely disinterested, but I was sure he was evaluating the amount I had left. Because his livelihood depended on tips, I knew it was important to him that we leave Jennifer a generous amount. He gave a quick nod, offered me a satisfied smile, then stood and dropped his napkin on his empty plate. “You ready to ride?”

“Right behind you.” I stood up too. “Shall we swing into a 7-Eleven on the way to grab a couple bottles of water? Looks like it’s going to be a warm one.” I gave his shoulder an affectionate shove. “Wouldn’t want dehydration to prevent you from being able to keep up with me.”