Mario’s was a long established Willet Cove mainstay. I’d been going there since I was younger than Annie. It had been my mother’s first choice for a celebration. And my mother could celebrate with the best of them. Nothing was off the table. A good grade on an exam or paper, coming in first at a track meet? All worthy of a night at Mario’s.
The ladies were already there, waiting near the front entrance when I arrived. Annie beamed when she saw me, motioning me over just as Mario came up to take us to a table. He led us over to a round corner booth with a curved banquette, which meant the three of us ended up closer together than a rectangular table would have allowed. Somehow, I ended up in the middle between them. I’m not sure how it happened but was fairly certain it was not an accident.
“How are we this evening?” Mario asked.
“My soccer team won,” Annie said. “So we’re celebrating.”
Mario nodded his approval. “Very good.” He turned toward me. “How are you tonight, Mr. Flynn?”
“Well, thank you.”
“I was just thinking about your mother earlier today. She’s missed,” Mario said.
“By me too,” I said. “I was just thinking how we came here to celebrate, small and big things. This was one of her favorite places to do so.”
“Really?” Annie asked, clearly eager to hear more.
“Yes, she always said every day should feel like a party,” I said.
“That sounds good to me,” Annie said, grinning.
Mario took our order. The barbecue chicken and a pepperoni, plus a soda for Annie and glasses of red for Delphine and me. After he left, Annie turned to me. “Thanks for coming to my game. That was super nice.”
“I enjoyed it. Brought back memories of when I was your age. I loved track, not soccer, but the vibe was the same. All the parents cheering for you guys. The scent of fresh grass in sea air. It’s moments like that when I remember why I came back here.”
“Would you have come home if your mom hadn’t needed you?” Annie asked.
“Yes, that was always my plan,” I said. “I’d thought, naively, that she’d be here when I was ready. Turns out, we didn’t have that much time.”
“That’s sad,” Annie said.
“Yes, it is,” I said simply. “Regardless, she was a wonderful mother, and I have many, many good memories.”
“Were you ever scared in the Navy?” Annie asked.
“Sometimes. But I was never in combat or anything like that. I was an intelligence officer. The worst part was probably the travel—long stretches away, not always somewhere you could talk about.”
“He put that in his profile,” Annie said. “I bet women love that you served our country, right, Mom?”
Delphine didn’t react, other than to take a sip of wine before asking, “What does a naval intelligence officer actually do?”
“Gather, analyze, and brief the decision-makers on information that affects operations. You become very good at reading situations quickly. Retaining detail.” I paused. “I have something close to a photographic memory, which helped considerably.”
Delphine’s eyes moved to mine with new interest. “Close to?”
“Not perfect. But close. I can read something once and retain most of it. Images especially.”
“That must be useful,” she said carefully.
“It has its applications,” I said, leaving it there for now.
“That’s really cool,” Annie said.
“Do you know what you want to do after high school?” I asked.
“College for sure,” Annie said.
“Nonnegotiable,” Delphine said firmly.
