I love this little comic so much that I just had to write something!
Nicky waited impatiently for the man to finish. He was standing in front of the olive oils, taking what seemed like an eternity to pick and it was making him restless. There was one bottle of the good olive oil left, sitting next to the row of cheaper oils to the side. The other oils tended to have a bitter aftertaste, Nicky had found through unfortunate personal experience.
’Good ingredients make for a good meal,’ his Nana had always said and she was right.
Nicky made a face. The man was still standing there, pondering and he didn’t want to wait any longer. The store rarely had this brand and he didn’t want to have to come back later in the week to see if they had restocked yet. The vegetables he had in his basket for a ratatouille wouldn’t last that long either.
He stepped forward, muttering a ’Scusa’ under his breath as he went, reaching out over the man’s shoulder. The other man stepped forward in the same moment, their hands connecting as he reached for the same bottle.
Nicky froze, hand outstretched, but only for a moment. The man seemed startled, like he didn’t know how a tall Italian had suddenly appeared at his elbow and it was all the time Nicky needed.
His Nana would be rolling in her grave if she knew how quickly Nicky grabbed the last bottle off the shelf, depositing it safely in his basket before the other man could stake his claim.
“Whoops! Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” the other man said to him. His tone had a hint of polite condescending in it and it was almost certainly because Nicky had gotten in his way.
“You cannot make good food with bad ingredients,” Nicky said in way of an explanation, ignoring the fact that now the other man would have to instead.
“You do realize I was here first, right?” the man said, eyeing the olive oil in Nicky’s basket as if he would grab it back.
Nicky frowned. “You were taking too long.” He took a step back, moving his basket away to make sure the man didn’t try anything.
“So you just barge past someone if they’re considering their options because you’re in too much of a hurry to wait for five seconds?”
“It was at least fifteen,” Nicky argued back.
The man opened his mouth to argue back before his shoulders dropped with a sigh. “Fine. Whatever, man. If it’s that important to you…”
“It is,” Nicky muttered under his breath as he turned on his heel and went the other way.
“Good ingredients make for a good meal,” his Nana’s voice echoed.
Three aisles later her voice had started to morph into another of her favorite sayings.
’Be kind, you never know what someone else is going through.’
Nicky tried to ignore it.
It was just his luck that as he headed towards the checkout aisles, he saw the man just ahead of him, slowly unloading his groceries next to the register. The slump of his shoulders and the tiredness in his frame made the guilt well up stronger in Nicky’s chest. His feet were carrying him closer before he had even realized that he had decided.
The man looked up as Nicky came over, his hands pausing in midair. “Can I help you?”
He didn’t sound impressed.
“I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” Nicky apologized. “Can I make you dinner?”
“Dinner?” the man echoed back faintly in surprise.
“I was going to make ratatouille,” Nicky explained, gesturing to his bottle of oil. “It seems only fair.”
“It must be very good ratatouille if it’s worth fighting over a bottle of olive oil for,” the man commented wryly but his lips were starting to quirk up into a smile.
“It is,” Nicky replied simply.
Two years later, Nicky made it for Joe when they moved in together and another two years after that, he made it for their first anniversary dinner too.
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