Читать книгу In the Light of Love - Deborah Mello Fletcher - Страница 17

The two friends sat in quiet reflection as the waiter carved slices of slow-roasted meats onto their plates. The tradition of best friends’ night had begun in high school, the monthly ethnic dining sessions initiated by Leila’s obsession with foreign cultures and supported by Talisa’s simple desire to hang out with her best friend.

That first year, on teenage allowances, or lack thereof, each monthly meeting had revolved around Oriental food, Yum Yum’s Chinese Takeout the main staple of each event. A library screening of an Oriental art film featuring Chinese actor Yao Kim had ended with egg rolls and wonton soup. Sidewalk seats at the Chinese New Year’s Day parade, complete with fireworks and the traditional dragon float, had been capped off with a shared order of beef lo mein and fried noodles. The following years, with the help of part-time jobs after school and a flux of creative energy, the activities and meals had become much more interesting.

This night was Brazilian night. With tickets to an Afro-Latino music festival, the two women had imbibed the cultural experience of Brazilian and Peruvian musicians, dancers and singers. The evening wasn’t complete until they’d taken their seats at Fogo de Chao, a local Brazilian restaurant, to experience the culinary artistry of churrasco—large cuts of meat slow roasted over an open pit.

As the last slice of filet mignon was placed on her plate, Talisa palmed the dining chip that had been issued to them when they’d been seated. Twirling the coin between her fingers, she flipped the chip from green to red. The waiter stopped just as quickly and backed away from the table.

“Here, try the liguica,” Leila said, reaching to place one of her spicy pork sausages onto Talisa’s plate.

“The food is incredible,” Talisa exclaimed, swallowing a mouth full of potatoes before she spoke.

Leila nodded, unable to speak, her own mouth a forkful away from overflowing. She reached for the chip, flipped it back to green and gestured to the waiter who rushed to their sides to refill the water glasses. As the last drop of fluid fell into her friend’s crystal container, she flipped the chip back to red and the pleasant-looking man disappeared to the other side of the room.

“So, are you excited about your trip?” Leila asked, grinning in Talisa’s direction.

“Yes. I’m also scared,” Talisa answered, leaning back against her seat.

“I’d go with you if I could. You know how much I’d love to see Africa.”

“You’d love to see Africa from a five-star hotel with an experienced guide. Not with ten college students and a sleeping bag on a schoolroom floor.”

Leila laughed. “So, next year you and I will go and we’ll use my travel agent instead of yours.”

Talisa laughed with her, her head bobbing up and down against her shoulders. She reached a palm into the air, her fingers waving excitedly. “Oh, oh, oh!” she exclaimed. “Did I tell you what my mother did?”

Eyebrows raised, Leila shook her head from side to side. “No. What’s happened this time?”

“The hottie doctor called me. Not once, not twice, but three or four times.

And she forgot to give me the messages.”

“Your doctor from the auction? That doctor?”

Talisa nodded, pulling a forkful of salad to her lips.

Leila giggled. “I told you your mother was losing her mind. You don’t get half the messages I leave for you. That’s why I only call your cell now.”

“I was so upset with her.”

“Did you call him back at least?”

“I tried. Dr. Becton has left the country for the next twelve months,” Talisa said, mimicking the only response she’d been able to get out of his nurse.

“Where did he go?”

Talisa shrugged, dejection painting a look of frustration across her face. “I don’t have a clue. No one will say.”

Her friend shook her head. “Oh, well. You win some and you lose some.”

“Damn, Leila,” Talisa muttered, tossing her hands into the air. “First, I didn’t think he was interested. Then he calls and my mother ruins it for me. I’ve lost him twice now and we haven’t even managed a conversation long enough to make a date.”