Train Me Daddy

“I think that’s great. It’s about time you got away from the ranch and saw some of the city. Why don’t you take a couple of days off? You and Isaac enjoy yourselves. It’ll do both of you good.”

“You sure, Neil. You sure you’ll be okay. I’m worried about . . . You know your health.”

“Olivia, I’ll be fine. I’ll go down to the Brass Rail for meals. Don’t worry about me. Just have fun.”

“If you’re sure?” I say glancing at Isaac and smiling.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay. Bye,” I say as I hung up the phone.

I turn to Isaac to tell him the good news, “Well, it looks like you’re stuck with me for a few days, Isaac.”

“You make it sound like something bad,” Isaac says as he opens the car door for me.

“Do you like Italian food?”

“Yes, lasagna is my all-time favorite!”

“Well, it just happens that there’s a great Italian restaurant near my apartment that I eat at regularly. And their lasagna is to die for, so you’re in luck.”

“I just need to get my car from the parking lot. I can’t leave it there all night.”

He shakes his head, “It’s fine. I’ll pay for it, and you didn’t bring anything with you. You didn’t know that you were staying overnight.”

He’s right about that. I visioned myself going back tonight for some reason. Not spending the day at the Space Centre and I never thought that I'd be enjoying myself with him.

“So, let?

??s go and get lasagne!”

As we ride in the car, I can’t think of anything better than spending the next couple of days with Isaac. Not only is the idea of speaking to someone and spending time with them, it feels as if it’s the best gift in the world. Neil and I have our moments, but apart from meal time, I don’t go out with him, or anything like that. This is about two people just enjoying each other’s company. My eyes dart towards Isaac once in a while. I wonder if he knows how I feel, but then again if he did he would make a move by now. It’s obvious that there is just one sided Isaac doesn’t feel any attraction towards me, I’m starting to realize it more and more. Isaac pulls into the parking lot of a small restaurant with a neon sight spelling out Fettuccines in big red letters.

Isaac wasn’t lying about being a regular at the restaurant. The moment we walk in the waiter standing a podium with a sign. “Good evening Isaac.” The front manager greets him with a wink and a smile. Isaac responds with the same friendly gesture.

“We haven’t seen you for a few days.”

Isaac smiles, “Yes, I had to spend time with my granddad on his ranch.”

The Front Manger smiles at me, then back to Isaac, “Do you want your usual table?”

“Yes, and we’ll like a bottle of Cotes du Rhone wine.”

I start to ask what kind of wine that is, but as I follow him to the table, Isaac smiles and says, “You’ll love the wine.”

An older waiter who looks Italian bring us some breadsticks and a small shallow dish with olive oil.

I glance at Isaac because I’m completely lost and feel pathetic that as much as I love lasagne, I’ve never eaten it in an Italian restaurant. Only when they’ve had an Italian night in town at the local bar. That’s when I first sampled it and ever since then I checked out the recipe on the net and made it once in a while.

He smiles reassuringly, “You dip the bread in the olive oil.”

“Damn, is it so obvious that I haven’t got a clue what to do with everything?”

He laughs,“That’s what I like about you. You are sort of unspoiled like the air in the country.”

“I guess that’s a nice way to say I’m a country bumpkin.”

We both chuckle. I like hearing Isaac laugh.