Kissing Frogs

THREE || The Beginning of a Romantic Cyber Affair

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|THREE|

Hugo's last name was Guerra, and the Guerra household was, in fact, very Italian. Every time I came around, Mrs. Guerra had an entire spread out-as though I was an entire party of people and not one tiny kid. I was too polite to turn down the variety of cheeses, meats, and breads she urged me to eat.

I loved it, but Hugo was a constant voice in my ear repeating, "You don't have to take it. Really, you don't have to."

His cheeks blazed red, and he stiffened every time he his mom rounded the corner asking if I was hungry. He was embarrassed, and I didn't get it. He had the coolest family.

The Guerra's owned a bakery downtown called The Bread Basket, and he lived with his grandmother-but they called her Nonna-and she couldn't speak more than a dozen words of English. I liked his Nonna because she  always gave me sweets to take home. Maria worked for their dad part-time after school, and Mr. Guerra was always saying how excited he was for Hugo to get old enough to help.

Hugo just swallowed hard and subtly shook his head. I would frown at him. I certainly couldn't wait to be old enough to help out.

Mr. Guerra promised stuff like that. "When you are Maria's age,' he'd say. "You can come work for me, too. Practically family, no?"

And it was true, by the time Hugo and I were eleven we were practically family. Mrs. Guerra made sure of that.

Mrs. Guerra absolutely could not stand the thought of my mother and me living alone- just the two of us. And how could she? They were a family of five. So, one afternoon as I was leaving, she stopped my mom on the doorstep and asked if we'd like to come to dinner the following evening. If it meant she didn't have to cook or order takeout, my mom was sold. So, we went to dinner.

It was a feast. If I thought Mrs. Guerra spoiled me during playdates, I obviously had no idea what she was truly capable of. Fresh bread from the bakery, pasta for an appetizer, some strange dish Nonna made that apparently contained lamb, and much, much more. My mom even had a glass of the wine at dinner-wine she brought as a thank you to the Guerra's. They filled her glass twice. 

Hugo and I sat side-by-side on a bench seat. His family was loud and rambunctious at the dinner table, you couldn't even hear your own thoughts. My mom was laughing...hard-something I hadn't seen in a really long time, and my eyes were jumping from person to person, trying to follow a conversation where everyone was talking over one another. But, when I took a bite of Nonna's dish and glanced at Hugo to see if he was enjoying himself as much as everyone else, I found his shoulders hunched and his mouth pinched.

I elbowed him lightly. "What's wrong?"

He looked at me and grimaced-well, actually, his whole body did one giant cringe. "I'm sorry everyone is so...loud."

I found myself furrowing my brows in confusion. What did he mean?

I looked over at my mom who was taking a sip of wine, her lips turned up in a smile while Maria and Mrs. Guerra went back and forth about an accident that happened at the bakery. Nonna was saying something rapidly in Italian to Mr. Guerra-who rolled his eyes. "Sì, sì, sì..." He kept repeating, "Naturalmente."

Everyone was in high spirits...everyone but Hugo.

"Everyone is having a good time," I told Hugo. "Really."

He considered what I said and scanned the table, lips pursed. I mean, sure, things looked a little chaotic if you weren't paying attention-but if you listened, really listened, you heard laughing and passionate story-telling and compliments to the chef.