What Binds Us

He needed time. It was why he was here. He lost something precious, irreplaceable. Nothing was cooking but the kitchen smelled of fresh herbs: parsley, basil, garlic, rosemary, sage, saffron and more. To Alex, it just smelled of Italian food. But his grandmother would smack him upside the head if he said that. When it came to Italian cooking, a small taste or even a large enough sniff and she could break down the dish into ingredients and even the proportions used. Not to mention that if she knew the dish well enough, she could even tell you the order as well. She was Italian, all right, from the wide hand gestures to her thick accent.

         The kitchen was wide, the floor covered in blue-white linoleum tiling, and pine-scented oak cabinets, and countless family pictures hung on the walls. Bianca Moretti stood over the kitchen island, knife in hand. A large wooden cutting board covered the island, overflowing with green and red peppers, onions, tomatoes, and other foods. Her eyes weren’t on the island at all. Her steely gaze was on the young man whose skin was slightly darkened like her own. “Davvero?” The Italian word rolled off her tongue quickly as she stared at her grandson.

         Alex sighed. This wasn’t going according to plan. He needed a way to convince her. He had to take the focus off himself. “Grandma, think of it this way. I’m not the best cook. You’re a legend. Besides, with a belly full of the best Italian cooking this side of San Franciso, there’s no way she’ll say no,”

         Bianca glared at him a moment longer before she smirked a little. “I think you mean this side of California. Just be sure that you have the ring. It’s been in our family for over a hundred years. With that ring, my cooking and a bit of charm, there’s no way she won’t fall for Alessandro Giorgio Paolo Moretti,” she said while flicking her fingers. She spoke his name like she did all Italian words, as if each and every word carried a world of meaning.

         “Grandma, its Alex. Alessandro just sounds pompous.”

         “There is no pompousness in having a name that reflects your heritage,” Bianca replied. Alex nodded. His grandmother was proud of his heritage. And if his future wife would kill him for losing the engagement ring, his grandmother would kill him a thousand times if she found out. She constantly told him the story of how that ring came into their family.

         In the late summer of 1898, Carmine Moretti stood just outside the carnival grounds. The land was covered with color. Large tents of blues, whites, reds, and oranges with banners and rides. He should have been happy. It was the time for happiness after all. His eyes drifted toward the ground underneath the cap that hid his hair. He was smitten. Elena Parrish had caught his eye. She was breathtaking. Her soft brown hair, her dark green eyes, all of it drew him in. Any of the boys could say that about her. Many of them did, the way they vied for her attention. But it was more than that. The way she smiled with those white teeth of hers, how she could dance in the moonlight at a festival yet take hikes in the woodland trails. Still many could say that about her. Yet he had a feeling he’d caught her eye. She had taught him to read. She spent hours teaching him to read ever since he told her he’d never actually finished a book before. Unlike his father, she thought it was just as important as the work of a farmhand. He couldn’t help thinking that maybe he was special to her. But he wasn’t the only one after her. He was poor and young men of the richest and most successful families had proposed to her and she turned them down. How could he compete with that? He didn’t even have an engagement ring. How could he go to her, tell her he loved her, yet have nothing to show for it. He didn’t even have that basic item that said, “I commit myself to you,”

         He wandered into the grounds, looking at all the colors and felt nothing. The joy he normally felt as he wandered the carnival was gone. He felt guilt, anger, frustration. For the first time, he really had someone whom he truly desired and was willing to do whatever he could but what could he do? His eyes passed over each tent but there was nothing that would help him here. Carmine headed to the fortuneteller’s tent. If he couldn’t have Elena, then he might as well see what did lie in his future.

         Carmine walked into the red and white striped tent. Seemingly countless strings hung from the top of the tent holding gold jewelry that gleamed and shimmered. None of them seemed perfect though it wouldn’t have mattered if they did. He had no money to offer. Carmine took a seat in front of the table across from the woman. She was dressed in an emerald-colored cloak with many rings on her wrinkled fingers. Some had diamonds, others rubies, some nothing in them at all. What caught his eye was the ring that hung from her necklace. A clear-cut green jewel sat in its center and the ring band was intertwined with gold and silver. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it. It would be perfect.

         “I am Madam Drina. Have you come to seek your fortune?” she asked, laying her palms on the round table covered with a green-brown tablecloth.

         Carmine scratched the side of his head. “Well, yes but that ring.” He pointed to the ring on her necklace. “How much is it?”

         “I’m afraid I wouldn’t sell it. But a lucky man might be able to acquire it,”

         Carmine raised his eyebrow. “But if you wouldn’t sell it then why would you give it to me?”

         “I would be willing to give it to someone who would make better use of it than I would. I don’t fancy giving this ring to some rich fool who’ll waste it. I’ll make you a deal.” She pulled out three opaque cups from under the table and put them on the surface. Her hands drifted to the back of her neck and unclipped the necklace. As she dangled it over the table, the ring slid into her wrinkled hand. She placed it under one of the cups and moved the cups around rapidly. Carmine’s eye followed the cups but he lost her at some point, her hand truly quicker than the eye. “Guess which cup the ring is under and it will be yours,” 

         Bianca hadn’t been at Alex’s house thirty minutes and his house already smelled of guanciale bacon, pecorino cheese, parmesan, nutmeg, onions, mushrooms, and many more. The smells wafted through the kitchen. Bianca was a retired chef but she still cooked as if she were still working, her garden almost always full of fresh vegetables. Her hand was steadied on the knife as she sliced down on the cutting board. 

         Alex carefully searched the house. His hands slid frantically through the emerald green couches worming his way through pieces of loose change, paper clips, and funky smelling lint. He pulled his hands out and moved on to the next room before his grandmother caught sight of him and started asking questions. He moved his hands through his hair as he stepped through his bedroom doorway. It had to be somewhere it couldn’t have just vanished. The brilliant mind that saved a man in a murder trial whose only alibi was that he had a so called “psychic vision.” The great lawyer who had redefined the impossible in the courtroom couldn’t be this useless. The ring meant so much. He continued to peruse every inch of his bedroom: the azure plaid covers on his bed, the small closet filled with dusty old coats, his white dresser drawers, and even behind the 12-inch T.V. He checked his watch. 6:20. He had only 40 minutes until Lorelai arrived and he wasn’t even properly dressed. As every second passed by, his hope dwindled and his panic increased. The smell of Italian cooking gradually filled the house. If he didn’t figure out something soon, he’d be dead meat.

         Carmine rested his hand under his chin looking at the cups. He didn’t have anything to lose. He continued to look at the cups one by one. He had a 1 in 3 chance of getting it right. 1 in 3 chance of proposing to the girl of his dreams. All of this riding on chance. His hand shook nervously as he pointed to the one on the right. “That one?”

         Madam Drina stared back at him, her face completely stoic. “Are you sure?”

         He was about to nod but then he thought about it. Was she hinting that he was right? Or wrong? He really didn’t know which was which. “The one in the middle. I’m sure.” His hand shook as he pointed to the middle cup. Madam Drina’s hand  hovered over the middle cup just before she pulled it up to reveal that it was empty. Then she pulled up the other two and the ring was in fact under the right cup. He had been right all along.

         “It seems your instincts were better than you thought,” Carmine lowered his head down in shame. He had been so close. He clenched his fist into a ball. His failure tore at his insides like a feral beast devouring its prey. He couldn’t believe it. However, his eyes were raised as he heard the pitter-patter of young quick feet and the sound of clinging metal. Several of the streams of gold chains had been ripped by a young man and he was dashing off with them. Without a second thought, Carmine jumped up and chased after him. Even if he couldn’t propose to the girl of his dreams, he could at least do something helpful, become someone of worth. He dashed after the boy,  and soon everyone’s eyes focused on the chase. Carmine gradually closed the distance, the air silent except for the pitter-patter of feet and the clink of the chains. He leapt in the air and dropped onto the boy, knocking him hard into the dirt path. It wasn’t over. He struggled to grab the chains, his arms flailing about while atop the boy. As soon as he got them, the boy scrambled to crawl out from under him and dashed off.

         Carmine panted and smiled. Everyone was looking at him and a few clapped. He got up and brushed the dust off his clothes and walked back to Madam Drina’s tent. He held the mass of gold chains carefully as he returned to the tent. “The thief escaped but I got your chains back.” Madam Drina smiled at him.

         “Just put those down,” she said, pointing to the table that had previously held the cups.  He lugged the chains and carefully placed them on the table. Madam Drina held out her clutched hand and opened it revealing the ring. “Take it.”

         Carmine’s eyes shot wide open. “What? But you said I had to choose the right cup.”

         “Very true but my judgment isn’t absolute. You came here to seek your fortune, correct? To find out what lies ahead, am I right?” Carmine nodded in response. “My judgment is not absolute. I didn’t expect you to pick the right cup. I assumed you would question your own decisions, which you did. However, it seems some things shouldn’t be left to chance,”

         Carmine raised his eyebrow. “Sorry. I don’t understand.”

         “This ring belonged to my sister. She died of an unknown illness a few years ago. I’ve held onto this ring ever since because I didn’t want to just sell it but I’ve seen the way you look at her and you could definitely make more use of it than I could,”

         “Wait…you?” He asked trying to fit fifty questions into one and failing miserably.

         Madam Drina chuckled, her cheeks puffing slightly. “A gentle heart makes itself known. I do not know if she shares your affections but I do believe that if she can see what I’ve seen today, you will gain a lovely bride, no matter the riches or prestige of any other suitors.”

         Carmine chuckled. She was crazy. Who’d pick him over money or prestige? He took the ring. He had a chance now. That’s all he wanted. A chance.

         The scene was set. Lorelai sat at the dining room table covered in a white cloth with plenty of food set before her.  Minestrone alla Milanese, seasoned with parsley, garlic and grazed onions, pasta carbonara, saffron rice, flavored with white wine, broth, Grana Padano cheese, and of course, saffron, and many other delectable dishes, the smell enveloping the house. Lorelai wore a light blue dress with shoulder straps and a golden pendant around her neck. Her light brown hair was tied back in a loosed bun. Bianca stood to the side, still wearing her apron that stated “Italian cooks are the finest” in big red Helvetica letters. “Sorry, he doesn’t usually take this long, but trust me it will be worth it.”

         Lorelai smiled. “It’s ok. Now at least I have something to combat him with the next time he complains that I’m taking too long to get ready,” she said chuckling. 

         Carmine stood with his back against the large oak tree, the cool breeze rustling the leaves. He couldn’t do it in front of other people in case she rejected him. He asked her to meet him here. He’d need her father’s permission but he doubted he would get that far. It wasn’t long before he spotted Elena in her yellow sundress. Her brown hair rolled down to her shoulders. Carmine clutched the ring in his hand, his palms sweaty.

         “So, you had something important to tell me Carmine?”

         He nodded and got down on one knee. Elena eyed him strangely, raising her brow as she stood.  “Elena Nicole Giuliani, I can’t give you much, but I love you. And if you would have me, I promise to serve and protect you earnestly for all my days. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He raised the ring in his hand so she could see it.

         “Get up,” she said firmly. He stood up immediately. This couldn’t end well. She took the ring out of his hand and placed it on her finger. I need neither a protector nor a servant. I need someone to walk hand in hand with me. Side by side, neither above me nor below me.”

         “Yes! Yes!” Carmine shouted. He couldn’t believe it. She said yes. He leaned in closer and kissed her tenderly. For the first time in a long time, he had no complaints about himself or others.

         Alex finally entered the kitchen. He was dressed in a dark green button-up shirt, neatly tucked into his black dress pants. In his hand, he held a flower as he nervously stepped toward her. He sat across from her. He still had not found it. Even with all the time he could spare, he had failed miserably. He handed her the rose and she smiled and sniffed it. He grabbed Lorelai’s other hand, caressing it tenderly. He spoke as he looked into her eyes, “Lorelai, I have something important to tell you.” 

         His memories with Lorelai were flashing before his eyes. Wasn’t thin sort of thing supposed to happen before you died? He could see that first day he had met her. Standing before Judge Lorelai Rose as he pleaded on behalf of his defendant. Yet, the court case hadn’t gone on for ten minutes before he realized that she was the closest thing to an unbiased judge that she had ever seen. He didn’t the need the charming eloquence with his words or deceitful trickery. All he needed to win his case was the truth. The plain and simple truth. Lorelai was untainted. She was earnest and diligent, a constant reminder of why he became a lawyer, to uphold justice and protect the innocent. She helped anchor him to the dutiful path, preventing him from falling down a road which led to those jokes about lawyers filling the brimstone pavement of Hell.

His palms were damp with sweat, thump thump thump. His heart was palpitating so fast like it’d burst out of his chest at any second. Alex’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He looked over and saw his grandmother. What did she want now? Things were bad enough already. Bianca moved toward him, clasping his hands into hers and dropping something in them before she let go. “Non aver paura.” The words rang in his head over and over. It sounded familiar, like a mantra echoing within his mind.  Fear not. How could he forget? Bianca has spoken to him those words on numerous occasions as a child.  He finally felt around in his hand, the cool, circular metal pressed against the palm of his hand, the fine cuts in the jewel. The ring? Did she have it this whole time? He opened his hand slightly to peek at the green-jewel-encrusted ring and clasping it shut. Lorelai raised her brow. “Everything alright Alex?”

He smiled back and chuckled a little.  “Everything is fine.” He was just thankful that Lorelai wasn’t nearly as perceptive as his grandmother was. He reached across the table and clasped one of her hands with his own. “Lorelai Elizabeth Rose, you are a lovely, brilliant, and talented woman. And through you, I have been greatly blessed.” He stopped and opened up the hand holding the ring out. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

         A bright smile lit up on her face. “Yes.” Alex smiled and placed the ring on her finger.