The Campo de’ Fiori market was particularly busy, perhaps more than normal, and Stella hoped that would mean a good day of sales for her humble but charming watercolour stall.
She was glad to be back at themercato, and relished watching how the Romans shuffled among the fruit and vegetables: never touching, only pointing.
While this was the process for many, other locals simply engaged in their usual clamorous banter and gossip against the colourful backdrop of the market.
Stella’s Rome-shaped heart returned to full, and not even the groggy residual jet lag, or the arrival of a stranger to her apartment, were going to get her down.
She was home.
‘BuongiornoGiulio!’ she sang, planting double-cheek kisses on her beloved landlord. ‘How are you this morning?’
Giulio’s eyes lit up. ‘Better now that you’re back!Bentornata, caraStella! Themercatois busy already. It’s going to be a good day.’
Stella began setting up her stall. She opened her easel, unfolded her chair and unpacked her brushes from her tired old satchel. She arranged the paintings she would offer for sale, and to each she affixed a hand-painted price tag.
As she flitted about, Stella noticed Giulio from the corner of her eye. He motioned once or twice in her direction, as if he wanted to say something but decided not to. Finally, he gave in and approached her with a curious finger pointed to the sky. ‘Have you met theAmericano, yet?’ His cheeky tone caused Stella to turn and give him a disapproving sideways glance.
‘Not you too!’ she moaned, rolling her eyes. ‘You’re better than this.’
‘Clearly not,’ he chuckled. ‘Allora?’ His eyes were hopeful.
The entire universe was apparently interested in her love life. While she was able to tolerate the comments and brush them aside, she figured her patience would only stretch so far. She had no interest whatsoever in pursuinganythingromantically inclined. She had returned to Rome for one reason: to secure herself a job and, by rights, a future in Rome. Andthatwas the only relationship she had her eyes set on.
Stella felt her lungs deflate. ‘Marcella’s already started on this thread, Giulio. I have met him, though I think the wordexperiencedis the only way to describe the encounter. I’ve experienced him.’
‘Ok. How was yourexperience, then?’
‘Well, he’s very . . .’ She paused, trying to find the right word. ‘Tall.’
‘And burly, apparently,’ Giulio added.
‘Giulio, in all honesty, he was very rude to Marcella and me, and I really don’t know what to make of the whole situation. I had a run-in with him this morning in the kitchen and I feel really—’
She was abruptly cut off by the finger Giulio had pressed to her lips. ‘He’s staying.’
‘What?’
The puzzled expression on her face prompted Giulio to clarify. ‘He’s staying because he needs Roma.’ Lowering himself onto his chair, he continued arranging blocks of cheese on the table in front of him. He reeked of wisdom, much like a mystic or spiritual master. ‘Ha bisogno di Roma.’
‘That’s exactly what you told me when we first met,’ she commented. ‘You told me thatIneeded Roma.’
‘And I was right. Now look at you!’ He threw his arms passionately into the air and rose from his chair. ‘You were so skinny and sad and depressed when I met you. You were life’s victim. You needed Roma to show you how tasty life can really be.’
‘Ok, first, I resent “sad and depressed”—’
‘The truth!’ His finger snapped to its previous skyward position.
‘And second,’ she coaxed his hand back down to his side, ‘you’re suggesting that Romawhet my appetite for life?’
‘Esatto!’ He leaned forward and took her face into his hands. Looking deep into her eyes, he said, ‘You weren’t hungry enough for it yet.’
This comment made Stella recoil, as if taking an emotional punch to the stomach.
Stella found her way to her stool and, in a moment of sudden clarity, she realised that Giulio was right. Since her big move to Rome ten months before, she hadcompletelyrebuilt life. And herself. She had become more independent, headstrong and, perhaps for the first time, she had a good idea of what she wanted. Stella was hungry for life again. In fact, it was the Roman life she constantly craved.
And right now she wanted – no, sheneeded –a job that could keep her in Rome.
Giulio took her silence and contemplative shift to mean that he had struck a chord. He continued to set up his wares, manoeuvring the mounds of wrapped cheese as if preparing members of his family for a perfectly poised portrait.
