We were gathering up our stuff, getting ready to leave Lauren’s mother’s house, after enjoying a delicious dinner, when Lauren’s mom offered us some leftovers.
“Here, take this provolone.” Lauren’s mom said.
“No. You keep the provolone. We have plenty of cheese at home.”
“Well, I am not going to eat all of that provolone. You take it.” Lauren’s mom insisted.
“Mom, you can use the provolone for salads or whatever. What we are taking is quite enough.”
I listened from the other room and they said provolone like 30 times. Every time they said provolone it bothered me. Not the actual word but the way Lauren pronounced it.
Driving home I told Lauren to be careful on one stretch of road because cops always hide behind certain building to catch speeders.
“I know I see them all the time when I drive down here.” She confirmed. “You know I have only ever gotten one speeding ticket?”
“Really? When?” I asked.
“Back when I did that craft show in Jersey. The speed limit went from 50 to 35 in an instant. The cops just waited at that spot and pulled people over.”
She told me about how the cop stopped her and acted like he was doing her a favor by writing her up for a lower speed than what he thought she was doing.
“We were together back then. How come you never told me you got a ticket?” I asked.
“I guess I was embarrassed by it then.” She answered.
“Look at that. You keeping secrets from me after all this time.”
“Oh. I am sure you have some secrets kept from me.”
“Well I need to stay mysterious.”
I think she rolled her eyes and the conversation ended there.
This morning we were chatting and I asked her why she pronounced provolone the way she does.
“How do you pronounce it?” She asked.
“Provolone.” I said. “Like it is a professional volone.”
“Well, I prefer provolone.”
“How I did not know that? We have been together for ten years. You would think that it would have come up before.”
“I don’t know.” Lauren said. “I guess it never came up.”
“See. There you go again, keeping secrets from me.”