First Love Letter (fiction - short story)

Written for my wife's page -https://www.facebook.com/CakeCanvasFromAnnAskitchen

We met for the first time in a coffee shop in Bangalore, on an outing with a few of my college mates to a coffee shop, a friend pointed out to a boy eyeing the huge piece of brownie placed in front of him as if it was the ticket to heaven. My heart skipped a beat as he poured a heavy, really heavy dose of melted chocolate on top of the brownie and completely immersed the titanic proportion in thick chocolate. He deftly cut into it and with great care not to drip the sauce, took his first mouthful to chew it slowly, eyes closed and enjoying the taste to the max. I have never seen anyone enjoy a dessert with so much abandon till that day. The afternoon light permeating through the brown tapestry above played its chocolate magic on his countenance and the earth colored walls around him to reflect chocolate hued shadows around the apparition of the boy who loves chocolate. Being an artist and a fledgling painter, my mind was already framing a mental picture of a good oil on canvas - and he opened his eyes and looked directly at me.

A beat passed and I could feel all the blood in my body rush into my face when I realized that my friends had turned their attention to things other than the one was immersed in and I was the only one who was staring at him at that moment. Just two pairs of eyes locked on to each other from across two tables in a quaint Bangalore bistro with the Eagles crooning ‘Love will keep us alive’.
This was heading to a disaster. I knew it. I pictured the boy to suddenly turn into that perfect moron, swagger on to my table with that usual idiotic self important smile and spoil the moment by trying to chat up the girl who dared to look at him. I winced inwardly; waiting for the shattering fall of the beautiful vision he and I were a part of. But then he did something he does so well, from that time when we were teenagers to now - he understood. I don’t know how and no matter how much I try to take his behavior apart I will never know. With a goofy grin which I loved from the first sight, he looked down on the cake and took another scoop of the cake (now I was watching him from the corner of my eye) then went about his business and spared me of an embarrassment and most importantly, kept the vision and its effect intact.
The waiter arrived with our orders and I was conscious of his surreptitious yet approving glance at the extra large proportion of chocolate brownie on my plate. I wanted so much to pour piping hot chocolate sauce on to the plate and taste the yummy deliciousness with the same gusto as the chocoholic across the bistro but couldn’t give in to the temptation due to ego. He must have seen the forlorn look with which I was regarding my brownie, because he stood up abruptly and walked towards the cashier, spoke to him and paid for his fare and left without finishing his brownie.
I was stunned, hurt a little bit and self doubt started creeping in. Did he leave because I was staring at him? Was he one of those finicky eaters who couldn’t bear to have anyone looking at him? My appetite went for a toss and I was about to pick at my brownie without any interest when I felt a presence at my side.
The waiter had returned, he had a bowl of steaming hot chocolate sauce in one hand and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the other hand. As he served the portions on to my plate, he proclaimed “You are the 10000th customer to order at this place and you get an upgrade” I caught his fib even though my hugely excited friends didn’t. It was him; the boy had asked them to bring me the exact same thing I was craving for, leaving his own dessert in a hurry so that I could have mine in peace.
I finished my PUC in another 6 months and shifted to Chennai and immersed myself into my pursuance of art studies. On occasions I would have a sizzling chocolate brownie and remember the chance encounter with that stranger.
Years passed by and I finished degree and a masters in art and was working in a small designer firm when my parents decided that it was time for me to enter matrimony. Dad called me over for a Pennukaanal (part of a tradition of arranged marriage where the boy comes over to see the girl – a venue where they can meet for the first time)
A faint familiarity tugged my memories as I watched the young man walk into the house flanked by his parents. A cheerful family by the looks of it; quiet comfortable with each other. They made my family lose their tension of hosting the first pennu kaanal in decades. My baby sister ran into my room with her approval. All went well, we talked a bit and he even made me laugh a bit. But the nagging sensation that I know him from somewhere remained. Not an uneasy feeling, but persisting all the same.
The family left, waving byes to all gathered and my folks started giving me looks of anticipation. I glanced a look at the TV screen showing an ad for Cadbury’s and my mouth gaped open!! It was him. We were meeting after 8 years and the years had made subtle changes to the teenagers who met for a brief minute in Bangalore. My lips must have been curved in a smile because my mom started teasing me on starting to daydream already. His family was on the phone they liked the idea of both of us together in matrimony and wanted to see if he could come back the next day to propose.
With my heart beating so loud I was scared others could hear it, I took the phone from my mom’s hand and managed to crock an OK.
The next day, he arrived with the same grin I remembered after all these years and sat down at the dining table. In front of him, in his plate, was a big piece of chocolate brownie I made for him, a bowl of piping hot chocolate sauce and a giant scoop of vanilla Ice cream. His eyes shone in bright luminescence as he eyed the brownie and its ensemble, and made small talk with my family who had gathered around him in excitement till they left us alone.
We looked at each other, me blushing and him looking at me and his plate. He took the sauce and poured it liberally over the brownie, the thick chocolate slowly covering it up as it travelled through the rifts and valleys of the chocolate delicacy. I watched with the feeling that I am going to see him do the same thing for the rest of my life and reveled in the knowledge that I am going to love watching him do that no matter how many repetitions of the brownie chocolate dance he does with his hands. As he took the first bite of the chocolate coated brownie, his eyes closed just that little bit in utter enjoyment and the familiar smile returned to his face. And without opening his eyes, he slowly reached into his pocket to withdraw an envelope and handed it over. I opened it to see the first love letter from my husband.

Attaching a soft copy of it.