Then she scooped up a little bit of the steaming sauce and took a tiny slurp.
"Ummm, just right. Here, see what you think," said Girl as she raised the ladle and cuffed her other hand under the ladle. Boy timidly approached and sipped the red sauce. Exquisite bursts of wonderful sweet, sour, and salty flavors filled his mouth. Boy closed his eyes and enjoyed the flavors running around in his mouth.
"Really tasty," said Boy.
"The meatballs and sauce are ready!" called out Girl joyfully.
"OK, I'm just finishing up with the lettuce salad," said Girl's father as he took a bottle of olive oil and trickled the golden oil on the salad in smooth strokes. He took a few pinches of salt and scattered the salt from high above onto the glistening leaves. He cut a lemon in half and squeezed the juice into his waiting cuffed hand just above the salad bowl. The juice dripped from his hands onto the waiting lettuce leaves, and the few seeds that were caught in his hands were thrown away. He then, ever so lightly, mixed and tossed the salad with his hands, as if not to hurt the lettuce, after which he picked up a small piece of lettuce and popped it in his mouth.
"The salad is ready," he sang out.
Girl gently stirred a big steaming pot of spaghettis. She fished out a single spaghetti with a fork and tossed it onto the kitchen tile. The spaghetti clung onto the tile like a snail. Girl then pulled it off the wall, tasted it, and shut the gas flame.
"The spaghettis are ready. Would you mind taking the strainer from the counter and holding it above the sink?"
"No, not at all," said Boy.
Girl lifted the big heavy pot and poured the water and noodles into the strainer. Hot steam engulfed them and filled their nostrils as the noodles slipped out of the pot and into the strainer. Boy noticed Girl's delicate but strong hands. He could feel the heat from her body and the sweet and sour fragrance of her skin. She turned on the faucet, and cold water poured onto the steaming spaghettis, soothing them down. Girl gently placed her hands on the strainer, touching Boy's hands ever so lightly, and began moving the strainer in small circles to make sure the water touched every spaghetti noodle. A shudder went through Boy's body, and his face blushed. There they both were, moving in circles, smiling at each other. Then Girl closed the water faucet.
"Here, pour the spaghettis back into the pot," Girl said as she held the pot handle with one hand, stabilizing it. Boy tilted the strainer, and the spaghettis smoothly slipped into the pot.
"Take the salad bowl over to the living room table, and I'll take the spaghettis."
"OK," said Boy, and he followed Girl into the living room.
Girl's father placed three big white ceramic plates on the wooden living room table and placed a napkin and fork next to each plate. He went back into the kitchen, opened a cupboard, chose three heavy glasses that shone like diamonds, and then returned and gently placed a glass next to each plate.
"Have a seat, you two. I'll go and get the meatballs."
Girl and Boy sat across from each other, and Girl's father came back with the hot pot of meatballs and sauce and placed it on a towel next to the spaghettis and salad. He then went back into the kitchen and came back with a big pitcher of water with a lemon slice swimming in it.
The meal was so delicious that Boy had to stop himself from eating too much. He tried not to display his hunger while wolfing the sweet meatballs and luscious spaghettis covered in mouthwatering tomato sauce. It was a sharp contrast to the bland food he was accustomed to at the orphanage. The fine hospitality and food made him feel welcome, happy, and calm. Even a little bit giddy.
"At this very moment I'm the luckiest person on earth," Boy announced lifting up his sparkling glass of water. "I thank you both."
"Cheers," said Girl lifting up her glass.
"Cheers," said Girl's father as their glasses clinked together.
It was late evening as Girl and Boy walked the streets together. The air smelled of honey and oranges. The streets were almost empty, and they could hear their own footsteps. Girl's flailing dress playfully caressed Boy's legs now and then. Her arm touched his arm ever so slightly as they walked close together, shoulder to shoulder. Her skin was warm and soft. Girl took Boy's hand in hers. Boy could feel his pulse in her hand as if she were sustaining him, giving him life. Everything stood still as they faced each other. She kissed him oh so tenderly. He kissed her back and the whole universe trembled with dizzy excitement. They embraced and held on to each other, both feeling each other's heart. And nothing else mattered.
Music
One night Boy went up to Girl's room.
"What's that guitar in the corner?" Boy asked.
"I play the guitar; music is my passion," Girl said. She shyly lifted up the guitar, tuned each string, closed her eyes, and started playing. Her delicate fingers moved on the guitar effortlessly as harmonic sounds filled the room and vibrated as one with the cosmos. Girl wasn't really there. Looking at her face, you could tell she was flying high to a different dimension outside of this world. Birds on the treetops tuned into the magical sounds. A butterfly landed on the windowsill.
Boy was mesmerized. He was taken to a different sphere as Girl sang a melody that uplifted his body and spirit, resonating with and touching his innermost core at the truth of who he was. Boy felt like he was connected anew to parts in himself that made him feel incredibly empowered - like he could change the world.
When Girl finished, Boy couldn't articulate what had just happened. Words in his mind fell short of describing what he felt. He just cried and hugged her. He knew she knew.
Recruitment Center
Boy was a year younger than Girl, who was now 18. When he finished school, he was told that he would be recruited to the army the next year.
"No excuses," the clerk at the army recruitment center told him. "You are of good health and mind, and this country needs you, young man. If you refuse to enlist next year, you will be judged and put in jail. If in jail you still refuse to enlist, you will be sent to a work camp," said the clerk. "And believe me, young man, you do not want to get yourself in a work camp."
"I already told you, sir. I'm not going to enlist. My way is the way of peace," said Boy with quiet decisiveness, looking the clerk straight in the eyes.
"Stop there, young man. I will not be lectured to. You owe this country your life, and it expects you to return the favor. You are a son of this country."
"No sir, I am a son of this world."
"That's enough, young man. We'll see," he said as he stamped the paper of recruitment and handed it over to Boy. The stamp echoed in the bare room. "Be at the recruitment center in January, or else."
"I will not raise my hand on another man in the name of religion, creed, or territorial disputes. I do not believe violence is a means to a solution; it cannot replace friendship and forgiveness. We have to educate and raise awareness of the fact that we are all one big family."
The room suddenly turned so quiet you could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall behind the clerk. Boy's words hovered and soaked into the room. The clerk looked at Boy curiously. Then suddenly he broke into an uncontrollable laughing fit. He laughed so hard that his belly hurt, his face turned red, and he was gasping for air. It seemed like any second he would fall off his chair as he wavered in it like a drunken man losing his balance.
"Friendship and forgiveness," the clerk barely managed to utter in between laughs. "You are one funny lad, I'll give you that much…"
By this time, the clerk was seriously gasping for air. He lost balance, fell off the chair, and crashed to the floor with a loud thud. Boy rushed to his side and turned him on his back. The clerk wasn't moving. Boy shook him vigorously, but noticed that the clerk wasn't responding. The clerk's body was heavy like a sack of potatoes.
"Mister, mister," Boy hollered, "can you hear me?"
No response. Boy put his ear next to the clerk's mouth and could tell he wasn't breathing. Boy cried for help, and soldiers came rushing in. There was much havoc as an orderly tried to
resuscitate the clerk, but to no avail.
The clerk was dead.
In the next weeks, Boy felt sad and distraught over the clerk's death.
"I just can't believe it happened. One minute we were talking, and the next minute, boom, the man is dead. I feel so guilty and shameful inside," said Boy to Snail.
"Look," said Snail, "it isn't your fault the guy died from a laughing fit. And anyway, don't take it to heart. Dying laughing seems to me the best way to go."
"If I'd just kept my mouth shut, none of this would have happened," said Boy.
"There is time for silence. I agree silence does have its place, but there are times when we must speak out our truth," said Snail solemnly and continued its speech.
"Speak out for justice,
for the weak and helpless,
for peace and equality.
Express your ideals.
Let them roam freely.
Speak out your thoughts,
write down your ideas,
sing your song aloud,
let it out into the world.
Dance if you must.
Dream your dreams
and work for them to happen.
Sail away on your imagination.
Free.
You are lucky,
you see.
Create your wishes.
Rise up to your true self
and the world will be better.”
The Bakery
Boy graduated from high school. Eventually he moved into Girl's room above the bakery and helped out at the bakery. It was a wonderful time for Boy, but it was mixed with