Luigi’s

It was a monthly routine of nostalgia and acute food poisoning.  The illness was caused partially by substandard food prep and storage coupled with broken dietary restrictions, but to Jon it was all worth it to relive a part of his childhood and commemorate his mother. 

Jon’s childhood was not unlike many others whose broken homes were their sanctuary, and whose single parents played both respective parts the best they could. Jon did not see his mom much as she worked her nursing job through the odd hours of the day and night, taking extra shifts when she could, so she could scrape by and still give Jon everything she could.  Jon didn’t go on vacations like most of his classmates, he didn’t have new shoes and clothes unless they were handed down to him, but occasionally single items were purchased on layaway for special occasions such as his birthday.  Jon didn’t have lunch money like his classmates either, but he had something to look forward to as he ate his cardboard tasting cafeteria lunch.  He didn’t notice the difference between him and his more fortunate classmates.  All Jon knew was that he went to school like they did, played like they did, and that he had a mom who loved him and made him feel special like they probably did.

When Jon got a good report card, his mom would buy him his favorite candy bar to celebrate.  When Jon had a rough day or tough experience, his mom would listen to him while rubbing her hand on his back, telling him that things will get better and things don’t stay the same then she would give him a big hug.  And, because she worked so much to provide for Jon and didn’t get to see her child as much as she wished, she set aside one day a month to treat her pride and joy, and that time she called “Mommy and Me Time.”

The majority of their Mommy and Me Time was spent at Luigi’s, which was a small Italian restaurant, and eating there made Jon feel like an actor or limo driver or doctor.  Before they would order, his mom would smile at his raw enthusiasm in between their jokes and conversation.  Jon and his mom would order the shrimp Alfredo every time.  Jon’s mom’s favorite was Alfredo, so Jon would follow his mom’s infallible taste and advice and order the same thing.  Jon’s mom would also tell him that one day when she gets a better job than nursing they would be able to have a lot more Mommy and Me Time and they would be able to afford lavish luxuries like crab legs and seafood, so when they went to Luigi’s and ordered the shrimp, Jon felt like they were in the big-time and dreamt of eating shrimp Alfredo and crab legs with his mom every day. 

They would sit at the red and white checkered table cloth across from each other, they would move the candles in the center of the table to the side, and she would ask Jon about school and life with kind, enamored eyes while he answered back alternating his eye contact between his mom and the items on the table that he played and fidgeted with.  Their food would come out, and Jon would put aside the salt shaker that was now a race car zipping across the checkered race track, or the giant’s legs made from his and his mom’s forks with broken, free breadsticks at the ends, or whatever his imagination had created while they waited.  Jon would scarf his food down while his mom would slowly eat and hungrily consume the beauty that she created and sat across from.  Jon loved the shrimp Alfredo that he inhaled every time.  It was so unlike the bologna sandwiches, rice and eggs, and canned fruit he was so accustomed to eating at home.  It was a rich taste, literally and figuratively. 

Before they could even pay for the check, every time without fail, Jon’s little stomach would already start bubbling and turning, but this was normal to Jon, because as a child he just assumed that is what is supposed to happen and every one feels the same way afterwards.  He just generalized it like he did most of his world experiences at that point. They would make it home, pick a movie, and ride out their bubbly, turning tummies together. 

This tradition continued throughout elementary and middle school even when some of their other rituals and usual rewards fell to the wayside.  They kept this special experience going even when Jon’s mom became sick shortly after his introduction to high school.  As her visits to the hospital became more about her well-being rather than a paycheck, Jon took it upon himself to get a part-time job to help his mom out, and to now treat his mom to what she used to make him feel special.  By this point, Jon has enough social awareness to understand that he and his mom were not financially equal to those around him in the environment that his mom had tried so hard to foster for him.  Jon didn’t use the money from his part-time job for new clothes or shoes or fast food.  He used that money for rent, groceries, and their much deserved monthly expenditure that he still looked forward to as much as he did as a young child.  As his mom’s illness progressed, Jon looked forward to their lavish dinner even more than when he was a child. 

They would sit at the stained, red and white checkered table cloth, and talk about life and all that it encompasses.  They would laugh together and cherish this time that only came once a month.  They would discuss all of the things that have happened during the time they didn’t see each other through the month due to conflicting schedules and doctor’s appointments.  When the food would come, Jon would eat more slowly and conserved to savor the rich feeling and taste, while his mom would eat progressively less over time due to the medications, but she would still imbibe the immense treasure that sat across from her.  She could never get full of that tremendous love she felt for her son.  There was never enough time.  Just as when he was a kid, his stomach would start to churn, and he and his mom would adjourn to their small house, plop down on the same couch, and watch a movie together while they rode out the uncomfortable effects of dinner.  Jon’s queasiness was from the dinner, but his mom’s was, again, because of the medication.  While Jon watched the movie, his mom would watch him, just like when he was a child. 

The better job, improved circumstance, and crab leg dinners never came.  Right around the time of Jon’s graduation, his mother passed away.  Jon had made friends throughout school, but his mom was his anchor, his therapist, his mentor, his father, and his best friend.  She was his everything.  In the end, it was her illness that brought them so close, and it was what tore them apart.  So needless to say, Jon was devastated.  He moved in with his aunt for a brief time to finish out the last few months of high school, and every month he would ride the bus across town after work to sit at a table for two at Luigi’s and order the shrimp Alfredo.  He would pretend to play with things on the table while fighting back tears.  He could eat what his depressed appetite would allow for, and would ride the bus home with his leftovers wrapped up on his lap and stomach rumbling behind it.  It wouldn’t be until he got to his aunt’s house and started the movie that the loneliness and loss was too much to bear, and he would cry himself to sleep those first few months. 

Time continued on as it does, and Jon gained experience and matured as some adults do, but he never stopped his monthly trip to Luigi’s.  As Jon got older and gained more insight into the world of being an adult and sacrificing for others, he began to understand all that his mom did for him and all that she gave up so he could have some semblance of a regular, happy childhood.  Jon now understood that even those small, inconsequential report card candy bars were more of a sacrifice that he knew.  There was no money in the budget for candy bars.  They were often times bought by his mom’s coworkers that tried to help support them behind the scenes.  He realized that whatever he was going through and struggling with was nothing compared to the responsibility of a single parent raising a child on a nurse’s salary.  He also realized that she put all of her troubles to the side, and took on all of his conflicts and worries, but she didn’t have anyone to share her burdens with.  And, clearly, if those expenditures were not feasible, the dinner at Luigi’s should have been out of the question.  That night off is a deduction from her pay they couldn’t afford, which just made the dinner that much more expensive in a sense.  However, these sacrifices meant giving her son the world, and that to her was worth everything. 

Even as Jon got older, he saw that Luigi’s wasn’t a fancy, upscale restaurant that he viewed it as a child.   The fancy checkered table cloth was a cheap fabric material with the red and white pattern glossed on a plastic-like material.  The candles weren’t real candles nor were they ever.  They were the cheap replicas that we lit by small batteries rather than fire, and the majority of which didn’t work anymore, but Luigi’s continued to adorn their tables with them.   The menus were a laminated, one page front and back, and the prices on them were meager. 

 The service wasn’t anything of note, at least it wasn’t anymore, but Jon didn’t know what the service was like as a kid.  His mom and their time together was the enjoyment and experience, not the atmosphere and staff hospitality.  Nothing of Luigi’s setting changed either besides the accumulated dust and grime on the already old and still aging furnishings and décor.  Jon also had now come to know the shrimp at Luigi’s had not been up to snuff.  As a child, Jon thought the fishy odor that hinted of decay was the smell of opulence, the smell that the rich and famous dined on, the smell he thought was an acquired taste, and the smell he now knew meant the seafood was turning.

Jon had come to know and learn more about the fond memories of his mother and Luigi’s, and the subtleties and subtext he missed in his youth.  Jon had even learned that he was lactose intolerant, which was consequently the reason for all those grumbly tummies after he and his mother’s monthly culinary tradition, but dietary restriction and the other unpleasant facts about Luigi’s did not diminish the memories, nor did they keep him from returning every month to the establishment that stood in private memorial to his mother and their special time together where nothing but them and their love was of any importance.

So for years, this ritual of emotional nostalgia and physical masochism continued until a little while after he had a son of his own.  He sat at Luigi’s in front of a lukewarm plate of stomachache, ruminating of his time with his mother, and he had a revelation.  He began to see the restaurant for what it truly was to him; a vestige of hope, tradition, sacrifice, and, above all else, love.  But, he also realized that it was merely a physical reminder, and the physical discomfort a byproduct of that reminder.  It did not house the memories as though he had treated it so.  The memories and happiness that his mom gave him live in him, and in the tradition she had created with the light of her world.  They were now, and will always be, a part of him.  With that epiphany, for the first, only, and last time in Jon’s life he pushed the plate aside, and left a twenty on the table to cover the untouched shrimp Alfredo, glass of water, and more than generous tip then returned home.

Now, once a month for no reason at all, not for good grades or to make up for lost time, not for cleaning his room or as any sort of reward, Jon, his wife, and his son have dinner at a restaurant of their choosing and continue the tradition his mom started so many years ago to honor and cherish the time they have together.