That's what my heart yearns for now

“I never thought we would get this far,” she says to me. We raise our glasses and playfully tap them against each other. The waiter asks if he can disturb us. with skill and practice He places the plates on our table. You have spaghetti Bolognese, I have pizza.

Wednesday evening. A late sun still glides over our faces, over the terrace, over the square where the restaurant is located. Opposite us is the Monumental Church. Proud, steadfast. Part of the square consists centuries-old houses. The brewery, the goldsmith, the barber. The rest of the space is filled up with bars and restaurants.

“Do you remember what it was like last year?” I say to her. I see her face contort. Pain, disappointment, tension. She curls the spaghetti around her fork. I cut off a piece of the Frutti di mare pizza. Neither of us is hungry. But we agreed. Now that things are going so much better. Now that we have come this far. We treat ourselves. We must not forget to celebrate success.

“Aren’t you ashamed,” a man shouts at us. At us? At everyone present on the terraces. He stands in the cool shade of the Monumental Church. He is dressed in tracksuit bottoms, a bright red sweater, yellow shoes. His forehead is bald. Around his ears, tufts of hair can be seen. As if they were made from cotton wool.

“How much suffering is there in this world,” says the troublemaker. “How many people are not going hungry? How many children and women live in miserable conditions. They are chased from their land. They are taunted, raped, tortured, hunted down.”

I pretend not to hear the prophet of doom. I am not going to let this special evening be spoiled by some frustrated idiot. I smile at her and I start caressing her fine, soft hands. She beams. There are small smears of sauce on her upper lip. I take a sip of red wine.

“How can you sit here so quietly,” says the mischief-maker. “Does it not bother you? The wars in Gaza, Sudan, Ukraine? Do you pretend that nothing is wrong? As if nothing has happened?”

“We made it anyway,” she says. Proud, self-assured, delighted. In the evening light she shines like an exotic princess. The dark eyes, the black hair, her white teeth. And we both realize. Sometimes life knocks us to the ground like dusty moths. And we lie there. Hopeless, broken, dejected. But tonight, we feel we are rising to heaven. Like shining birds of paradise. Nothing can stop us.

“Woe to you!” says the panic-monger. “That you manage to eat something! How is that possible! So many fellow human beings live in miserable circumstances. And you? You only care about food, drink, pleasure, lust, love. Don’t you have a heart?”

I feel a deep anger rising. What is the man interfering with! Why does he have to get his message across to us now? Of all times? Should I take my pizza knife and threaten him to stop shouting? Will that stop his scaremongering? His senseless prophesies?

She wipes her mouth with the paper napkin, pushes her chair back and walks over to the agitator. Resolutely. Calmly. Careless. I don't hear what she says to him. She whispers. He whispers. Then they both turn and saunter out to the terrace. I can feel my heart pounding in my throat when she offers the idiot a chair at our table.

Without any form of consultation, she shoves the largest part of my pizza to his side of the table. She does the same with her meal. Without a second's thought, the rabble-rouser starts stuffing the food into his mouth. It has to be said. He eats effectively. In less than a minute, he has devoured everything in front of him.

Okay, the ground around him is strewn with food scraps, pasta strings and crusts. She beckons the waiter and asks the demagogue what he would like to drink. A beer, he tells him. He drinks this down in one go. Just like the second and third drinks.

Then he says goodbye with a short greeting and a big burp. As a free, new person we see him disappear into a side street.

She looks at her empty plate. And stares at me. Happy, content, untroubled. “That’s what we as clumsy and damaged people need most,” she says almost apologetically. “A little attention.”