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“Then come to dinner with me. My girlfriend is out of town, so I’m looking for a date.” He grins.
I hesitate. On one hand, I shouldn’t keep turning down requests to socialize. After all, I moved into this building to be nearer to my teammates.
But it’s Wednesday night, and Chiara is working the dinner shift. I’ve never made it in there for dinner before, and that’s where I’m headed now. “Can we go to my…” I search for the word. “…Favorite pizza place?”
“You have a favorite? You’ve only lived here for a few months!” Silas pats his chest. “You should let the master show you where the best Brooklyn pizza is.”
“Sorry. That is the drill.” It’s one of the few English phrases I know. “I am in the mood for their special.”
“Okay, man.” He slaps my back. “I hope you have good taste. How’s the pizza in Finland?”
“I thought it was good. And then I moved here.”
Silas cracks up.
I raise my hand for a taxi.
When we reach Romano & Bianchi, I search out Chiara immediately. When I give her a wave, she points at a table near the back. So I grab a menu off the podium for Silas, and head right back there.
“Wouldn’t you rather sit up front?” Silas asks as we take our seats.
“No. I need to be in her section.”
“Okay, this does look good,” Silas says after we sit down, and he has a chance to peruse the menu. “Did you say something about a special?”
“It’s just the pizza I always order,” I tell him. “They make me what I like.”
“Ah,” he says. “I think I’ll try the pesto primavera. Have you had that one?”
I shake my head. “I get the same one every time.” In spite of my heartbreak, this is still my favorite place in Brooklyn. No—it’s my favorite place outside Finland.
Chiara’s heels click towards us, and I already feel better. I take her in, and my heart lifts as a smile curves across her face. “Ivo! So you do have friends.”
“One friend,” I say as my face reddens. “He likes pizza a lot.”
“You have that in common, then.” She pulls her phone out. “Okay, are you ready to play?”
I nod my head. “Let’s do it.”
She holds up a picture on her phone. The deal is that I get four questions—each one something I might see in New York. If I get them all correct, my dessert is free.
I always tip a lot, so the money is not really the point. But I do enjoy the game. And the first picture is one I can do. It’s akoira. “Dog,” I say in English.
“Good! Next one.” She swipes.
“Train.”
“Yep. Although I also would have acceptedsubway.” She flips to the next picture, and it’s easy.
“Taxi! We say it the same in Finnish.”
“Good to know in case I ever visit Helsinki.”
That is, of course, my dream. But she can’t know that.
“Okay, last one?”
She flips and I see… Oof. “We call itsateenvarjo. I don’t know the English for that.”
