“Oh, wonderful! Yes, can you tell us where the closest Metro stop is?”
She thrusts a street map of Rome into my hands and I’m able to find our location easily enough.
“Okay, we’re here, so if you go a few blocks this way and then make another right, you’ll find the Cipro station.” I trail my index finger along her route to give an additional visual.
She beams at me in gratitude. “Wonderful! Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome. Have fun.”
The ladies are off to the races and I have to grin as I watch them rush away. I remember the excitement I felt on my first day in Rome. It must be nice to travel with a friend, though. The exhilaration of exploring a new place could only be amplified when you’re sharing it with someone you care for.
Deciding it’s best not to dwell on that particular subject, I take my last bite of pizza and stand up, brushing my hands together to dust off any loose crumbs, and start walking through the courtyard. Then I freeze. The redheaded pizza-hater is directly in my path, just a few feet away. His hands are still clasped behind his back as he looks at me with an amused expression.
I’m going to go ahead and assume that he just heard me speaking in perfect English. I act without thinking and do a quick curtsy.“Scusi,”I say, bustling past him and bounding into my apartment building.
Once inside, I step into the old-fashioned elevator through the two little doors and press my floor number. The lift roars to life and I drop my head back against the glass-and-wood-lined wall.
Yes, Kara. You just curtsied.
I wake up the next morning feeling sluggish and go directly to the pizzeria around the corner to get breakfast. I greet the middle-aged female storeowner and place my usual order, asking for a small slice of pizza marinara in my self-created mixture of Italian, English and sign language. I think she’s used to me by now but finds me tedious. I grab a bottle of water from the display fridge as she wraps my pizza in thick white paper and hands it to me with a strained smile. I pay for my food and exit the store.
I didn’t sleep well last night. I barely wrote. I’m restless and agitated, enough so that I decide to punish myself by skipping my sightseeing trip this afternoon in favor of an extra writing session. If I get something done, I’ll treat myself to a gelato.
By the way, the chocolate is better here. It just is. I managed to find the authentic gelato, the kind that is stored in metal tins and covered with matching metal lids and, no joke, I felt like I’d died and was then reborn with the sole purpose of eating more gelato.
With the promise of elevated ice cream somewhat easing my pessimistic mood, I walk back into the courtyard with more pep in my step. That pep vanishes, however, when I find that my cozy little bench is occupied. Occupied by none other than the redhead from yesterday, who is now sitting quietly, eating a large slice of pizza.
I walk over to stand in front of him, blocking his light just as he did to me the day before. “This scene feels vaguely familiar,” I say.
He glances up at me with an unconcerned look. “Mi dispiace, no English.”
“Well played.” I sit down next to him and rip open the paper that is keeping me from the carbohydrates I so desperately need.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says as I take my first bite. “I thought you didn’t speak English.”
I nod and chew until I’m able to talk. “I may have been faking that a little bit.”
“Really? A little bit?”
“Just a tad.”
“You may not believe it, but after hours of thought and multiple diagrams, I managed to piece that mystery together for myself.”
“What a letdown. And here I thought I committed the perfect crime.”
“It couldn’t be helped. I watched an impressive amount ofInspector Gadgetgrowing up, so detective work has always been a keen interest of mine.”
“You’re anInspector Gadgetnerd? I can only hope that you’re referring to the original cartoon and not the movie.”
“Do I look like a monster?”
We both smile a bit and each take another bite.
“So what brings you to Italy?” he asks a while later.
“I’m sorry, please don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you even talking to me? You didn’t seem like my biggest fan yesterday.”
He doesn’t appear at all fazed by my words. “Yes, I’d like to apologize if I sounded a bit harsh about that. My tone always comes out more serious than I’d like it to. It’s good in business but problematic while attempting friendly conversation.”
