Southend U3A

Writing for Fun

January 2016

Bruno - Maureen Rampersaud

I distinctly remember Bruno standing next to me at the sand tray when we were five. His eyes sparkled when he talked to me and he had the widest, sunniest smile imaginable. I bathed in his adoration. We played dressing up and he orchestrated the same scenario. I was the princess in difficulty and he was the handsome prince who rescued me.

He nearly always managed to sit next to me, or line up behind me, or be my partner in P.E. during our infant school years.

He was exactly the same in junior school, but I changed steadily. By the time we were in our last year, I was openly hostile to him. Our classmates teased me:

'Oh here comes lover boy.'

'Shall we leave you two alone?'

'When are you getting married?'

I was sick with embarrassment, all I wanted to do was fade into the background . . . just fit in. Bruno ignored the taunts, he continued to follow me around even when I was downright nasty to him.

The day he came to me with moist, mournful eyes to break the news that his family was moving away, I had to suppress the joy I felt. I wasn't so cruel as to show how pleased I was that he wouldn't be following me around in secondary school.

Something strange happened when Bruno had gone. I missed him. I kept looking around for him, longing to feel his adoring eyes on me. The pain of his absence intensified over the following months, until it receded into a constant ache.

I became a doctor. I enjoyed the long hours and lack of leisure time . . . it suited me. I bought a flat in Manchester, where I'd trained. I liked the big city impersonality. After Bruno left, I couldn't seem to connect properly with anyone else.

On Friday nights, if I wasn't working, I had a solo dinner in 'O Sole Mio' restaurant, which was just around the corner from my flat. Mistakenly, I thought it meant something along the lines of 'O Lonesome Me', which I found amusing, in a perverse sort of way. The waiter was open and friendly, without being obtrusive. I really looked forward to my visits.

He started to bring out little extras, 'Compliments of the chef, He would like you to try these figs with honey . . . or other such delicacies.' I confess that I thought the waiter had a soft spot for me. I liked him, that was as far as it went for me. One rainy evening, I arrived at the restaurant, surprised to see that I was the only customer. The waiter took my coat and showed me to my table.

'So sorry, Signorina, I have to go, but the chef will serve you your meal tonight.'

I thought this was odd, but idly started to look at the menu as he left.

When I looked up I was startled to find that a man had silently taken the seat opposite me.

'Do you recognize me?'

I looked into those eyes and warmth flooded into my lonely, cold being.

'Bruno.'

He took my hand and smiling his beautiful smile, he said softly, 'Of all the restaurants in all the world, you came into mine.'

I laughed, I'd found my soulmate again.