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Thomas has it all: nobility, money, the girl, and a position waiting for him at the family business. But when he thinks about the life ahead of him, he can't breathe. So he takes a gap year backpacking.
Nadia...
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Nadia watched Thomas pick up his spoon by the tip of the handle and stir his oily soup. A chicken foot floated to the surface. The spoon dropped, clattering, and he nudged the bowl away, his face blanched.
Nadia sniggered, relieved to have something to take her attention from the heaviness in her heart.
They sat in a small restaurant, not far from the central bus terminal in Lima, in a long, narrow white-washed room. The brown clay tiles were worn, and the red-moulded plastic chairs wobbled with each movement. Salsa music blared from a small, black stereo and the sizzle of pans and clanking of kitchen implements came from a doorway outlined in a dark-yellow smudge — suspiciously reminiscent of a layer of greasy dust. Nadia pushed that thought aside.
The set menu was a bargain. Soup, chicken, rice, and dessert for a couple of dollars — and so tasty. Savouring a mouthful of the liquid, she thought she would never grow tired of the meal, even having eaten the staple countless times. She regarded Thomas as he picked his spoon up again and took a tentative sip of broth. Thick brows lifted.
Despite their agreement, he'd been reticent about eating here. The problem had been resolved by a young woman who grabbed his arm, pulled him inside, and deposited him in an unstable chair.
Nadia found his presence reassuring, even though her head still pounded, and her heart keened. This unsettled her. She swept the realisation into the pile of other unwanted abstractions. The mound had grown exponentially since her arrival in Latin America. It could wait a little longer.
An impish thought darted in to fill the vacant space. Would he gross-out if she ate one of the chicken feet? She always put them on the table — no doubt only to end up back in the pot. But why not try one? When in Rome and all that. They couldn't be too bad if they were so popular over here.
Still a little drunk, she told herself to use the remains of her courage before it evaporated.
Biting down on her bottom lip, she dipped her fingers in the lukewarm liquid and plucked one out. Thomas' eyes rounded as she popped the pink, wrinkled toe into her mouth and chewed. The meat was tender, succulent and full of a rich flavour. "Mmm."
Thomas swallowed heavily, his chest expanding and contracting in a wave-like motion. He didn't look good. Teeth clenched, lips curled back and nose wrinkled. The bone crunched between her teeth. She could have sworn his face turned a shade of green before he turned away to rummage for something in his bag.
Laughter bubbled out of her. She couldn't help it — it was too funny. The waitress shot her a look as if she were mad, but she didn't care.
"I don't see what is so amusing."
"You! You're so easy to wind up!" Nadia wiped her eyes. "So bloody predictable."
His eyes pinched together. "I am not."
"Pfft! You wanna bet?"
He crossed his arms. "You're on."
"Your loss." Nadia's mouth quirked and she leaned in close to fix his gaze. The thin piece of toilet paper in his hand, serving as his napkin, disintegrated. "Eat your feet."
