Page 35 of Enzo

“Should I not say his name?” she whispers. “Is he like Voldemort? He Who Must Not Be Named?”

I laugh.

To my surprise, Gloria does, too.

“You really are something, dear,” she says, shaking her head.

Molly flashes a smile. “Why, thank you.”

Everyone gets back to eating and I lean towards Molly again.

“I’m not sure if that was meant as a compliment.”

“I know it wasn’t, but my headmistress thinks I can handle it.”

“Handle what?”

She looks around the table. “These people…”

“I can see that you can.”

“Thank you. Oh. I got talking to …” She lowers her voice. “Luca Valizar out there.”

This is news. “Out where?”

“When I came out of the washroom.”

“What’s he like?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t get to see his face. He’s big and tall.”

“Great. That tells me a lot.”

She flashes a big smile at me again, like it makes her insanely happy. She has a lovely smile. I’m glad she came and found me. Rescued me from sitting through dinner talking to the others.

Maybe Venice has lowered my guard. This evening of masks has allowed me to let go of more than usual, because I’m hiding behind an actual mask. I don’t care to analyze it too much just yet.

“My headmistress thinks I make people feel comfortable, but I don't know if that’s true because when I came up to you, you didn't look comfortable at all. You didn't even know what to say but then maybe that's okay because you don't talk much.”

I’m speechless. I love the way she says what she thinks and doesn't even worry about it.

“But …” Her expression dims and she looks pensive. “It was a risk, me going up to you, a stranger, wearing a mask, and me being in a place where I don’t know anyone. I’m not naïve or gullible, as some would think …” She glances at the people around the table, before turning back to me. “But I can read people pretty well, and I didn’t think you were a weirdo.”

“A weirdo?”

I’m bemused. This is not the kind of conversation I envisaged having, but I’m so glad I am.

“You could tell even though you haven’t seen my face, or been able to gauge my expression?”

“I could read you. The way you stood, alone and off to the side.”

“You weren’t worried that I could be a serial killer?”

She angles her head, like she’s considering it. “My spidey senses told me otherwise.”

I chuckle at this. No woman I’ve talked to has ever referenced Spider-Man.

“My friend Kiki told me ...” Her voice drops again, and she looks around the table conspiratorially. Her eyes meet mine again. “She said I should bag a millionaire, even if he's a dinosaur.” Her voice drops even lower and she makes a face like she didn't like the advice.