When I was in my thirties, I ran out of money and decided to work at a steel mill in the small town where I ended up. I rented a cheap apartment and lived modestly.
One cold evening, I went to a local restaurant for dinner.
As I sat down and looked at the menu, someone handed me a cup and said, "Cappuccino, right?"
As I turned around, I saw a familiar face.
"Sergeant! W-Wow, it's been a while."
"Hehe. I'm sure you said you liked this," said Raul Dicen, who was wearing a white shirt and an apron.
"Whoa, but... why? Here...?"
"That's right! Tadaaa! This is my shop. I run it with my wife. Let me introduce you."
The sign read 'Dicen's Italian Restaurant.'
His wife was a pretty woman with slender red hair and a clear voice.
"I'm Wendy. Nice to meet you."
"Oh, ma'am, thank you for coming... Nice to meet you. My name is William."
The sergeant looked at me with the same refreshing smile he always had.
"Let me buy you a cappuccino. Hmm? Are you single? Married?"
"Haha, no way. There's no chance I could get a girlfriend."
"Wow, I'm in awe of those barrel arms."
"Ooh, don't touch me, Sergeant. It tickles."
"That short haircut, that rough, shaved head-it's manly and cute."
Raul's mischievous stroking of my head made his wife burst out laughing.
"Will, the war is over. Stop calling me 'Sergeant.' It tickles - just call me Raul."
"Yes..."
"Come by every day. I'll treat you to lunch every day."
---
After work, I often hung out at Dicen's.
Because of my size, I would sit quietly in the back so I wouldn't attract too much attention.
"Will, come work for us now," Raul said one day, putting me in a headlock.
I laughed and scratched my head. "I'm unsociable, and with these eyes and this size, I'd scare the customers."
"Actually, there's one customer who's already worried. Is that guy in the back a bodyguard?" they asked.
"See?"
We laughed, and his wife seemed to enjoy the humor as well.
It was a happy place-a moment of grace.
When we were together, it brought me relief.
At the end of the day, Raul would sit next to me and tell stories.
He often encouraged me to talk more, but he also said that I was a good listener.
"Talk, talk. If you don't talk, you're going to hell," Raul teased with a half-laugh, taking a sip of vodka.
On particularly cold nights, he'd offer me a cup of hot corn soup.
"Thank you. I already have a reservation in hell. But this... this is heaven."
"Fufu. I see."
As I sipped the soup, Raul rubbed my shoulder.
"Will, are you enjoying your work?"
"Yes. It's warm in the winter."
"Good. How are the tremors in your hands? Has it stopped?"
I lied again and said that it had been quite a while since I stopped drinking.
But the hand tremors weren't from drinking-they came when I was overly emotional, triggered by memories of that day.
Raul had sensed something was wrong from the beginning, but he never asked. He was a thoughtful, devoted man.
"There's a lot going on. But you should tell me before it piles up. I just bought this shop and moved to this town, so I don't have many people to talk to."
"You have a wife."
"That's right. She's a great woman and a good confidante. But she could give me a little more allowance."
"Hahaha. Your wife is great. She supports you."
"Ah, men like me can't compete with women. It's amazing that they can even bear children."
Raul's words surprised me.
"Wait...no way...Raul?"
"Haha. Apparently it's been three months."
I couldn't help but stand up.
I reached for Wendy, who was in the kitchen doing dishes.
"Oh, congratulations!"
With only her head sticking out, Wendy nodded with a big, beaming smile.
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