Valeria rolls her eyes. “I am surprised to hear that. They are horrible teenagers.”
“They are staying with friends tonight,” Vincenzo says. “When the cat’s away the mice will play.” He winks at me. “That’s the saying, right?”
“That’s right,” I say, not really sure if it applies here, but I’m touched that he’s making an effort. I turn to Valeria. “Vincenzo’s taught me a few Italian phrases.”
“Ah,” Valeria says, turning to her husband with genuine admiration. “Then you’ll be fluent in Italian in no time. In idioms, at least.”
Vincenzo beams with pride. “Valeria studied English at the university in Roma. She’s taught me everything I know.”
He looks on the verge of tears again, so I gesture toward the bartender. “Can I buy you both a drink?”
We trade the barstools for a table in the corner of the bar and split a bottle of wine Vincenzo recommends. It’s a Sangiovese from Montepulciano in nearby Tuscany, dry but robust. Valeria tells me she inherited the wine shop in town and has been running it for the past decade after her father retired. “What made you decide to work for the Farentinos?” I ask Vincenzo.
He shrugs. “My father used to manage their estate before me, so it is how it always was to be.” It seems to be par for the course in La Musa. Maybe you leave town for university and your early adulthood, but everyone always comes back when it’s time to take over the family business.
There’s a quaintness to it that makes me ache with jealousy. My parents were environmental lawyers. While their work inspired my affinity for community organizing and public service, I would’ve dressed as an off-brand cartoon character on the Walk of Fame before I went to law school and followed in their footsteps.
“What made you want to move to La Musa, Izzy?” Valeria asks.
I debate how much to tell them and settle on an abbreviated version of the truth. “I studied here in college—my university used to have a program here. Do you know it?”
Valeria nods enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. Of course. We all remember the days when dozens of American college students would fill the streets of La Musa in the summer.”
“They were like centaurs,” Vincenzo says. “Half man, half beast.” Valeria gives him a stern look. “Though I’m sure our Izzy was not like that,” he says.
I laugh. “No, I understand how a bunch of college students let loose in a town where we could suddenly drink legally would be annoying.” I take a sip of wine. “I really was here to study, though.” Truthfully, I knew how good foreign programs would look on my transcript, how good international experience would look to future voters. Everything I did in college, and everything since, had been to support my dream.
“So you’ve come back now, what, five years later?” Valeria says with a wink. I love her.
“Give or take,” I say. I take another sip. “My life back in the States”—I’m a person who says “the States” now—“was. . . complicated. I just remember everything here being so delightfully uncomplicated. Not to say it’s easy or free from drama, but the pace of life is much slower, in a good way. I need that.”
Valeria and Vincenzo smile at each other. “Well,brindiamoto that,” Valeria says, raising her glass.
I’m significantly drunk by the time Vincenzo opens our third bottle. The door to the bar swings open and I do a double take at the man who walks inside. He’s young, probably mid–late 20s, way outside the normal age range of La Musa residents as has been reported to me. He’s handsome. Wildly handsome. His face is innocent looking with wide eyes and a round jaw, but there’s a vitality to his swagger as he walks through the bar. I feel my cheeks redden and press one ofmy cool hands to my face. Valeria tracks my eyes to the man and back. “Do you have a boyfriend, Izzy?” she asks.
I blush even harder. “No,” I say. “No, not at all.”
She smiles and shares a knowing look with Vincenzo, elbowing him in the gut and nodding toward the handsome stranger. Vincenzo takes the hint and raises his hand in the air. “Giacomo, my boy,” he says. The man turns and lights up when he sees Vincenzo. He walks over to our table.
He and Vincenzo exchange a quick conversation in Italian before Vincenzo points to me. “This is my new friend, Izzy from California.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “Izzy, this is Giac.”
Giac smiles at me and it lights up his whole face. His teeth are shiny, and his smile is without flaw. The kind of perfect that in Los Angeles means they’ve spent an exorbitant amount of money on veneers, but for Giac it’s just his natural aura. He’s not tall, probably only an inch or two taller than me, but his shoulders are broad and strong. The kind you can cling to when the moment calls for it. Shoulders that make you feel safe. I’m too drunk for this, because I immediately picture myself kissing him. “Hi,” I sputter.
“Giac is a teacher. Beatrice is his student,” Valeria says.
“One of my best students,” Giac says.
I’m still tongue-tied by his handsomeness to find actual words, so I simply nod. Vincenzo gestures to the chair next to me. “Please, join us.”
The bartender walks up to us and hands Giac a shot of yellow liquid, limoncello. “I wish I could,” Giac says, his voice melodic, like a song that you hear for the first time and know you’ll be playing on repeat for the next month. “But I am on the late train back to Perugia.” He turns to me. “I live in Perugia but work here.” He sips on the limoncello. “I was having dinner with my aunt.” Vincenzo and Valeria groan sympathetically. I’ll ask later what the deal with the aunt is. Giac finishes the rest of his shot. “I’m sorry to leave so soon. Izzy, it was lovely to meet you.”
I nod. “Mmm,” is all I can get out.
He smiles at me again and I think I notice a hint of interest in his eyes. I’m not the best at knowing when someone is flirting with me, but the way he looks at me makes something in my stomach spin. “I hope to see you around?”
I nod again. He leaves. Vincenzo sits back down and we’re all quiet for a moment. I still feel flushed. It’s pathetic, really, how easily a man smiling in my direction leaves me flustered. “Izzy, you are a tomato,” Vincenzo says. Valeria playfully hits him on the arm.
I fan myself. “It’s hot in here.”
