Designs of the Heart

by Renee Ryder

  “—eeks of vacation! Since I’ve worked there I haven’t taken one fucking day off, and now you—”

  “Babe, listen.”

  “—want me to waste my vacation time in Tacoma?” she finished, beside herself, casting her eyes above her bed at the painting of the boats.

  “Hannah, no one said you won’t be on that airplane tomorrow.”

  These words, reinforced by his affectionate and reassuring tone, had a calming effect on her.

  “Yes, I promised you that you’ll spend your birthday in Italy, and that’s what will happen. Nothing is going to change that.”

  Her anger turned to bewilderment and the tears dried on her cheeks.

  “You’re saying that you want me to go alone?”

  “Not alone.”

  “With your parents?” Her eyes widened.

  “Of course.”

  Her bewilderment became exasperated laughter.

  “No, Ry. You can’t be serious.”

  “Why?”

  “Are you kidding?” she replied, her irritation intensified by the innocence of his question. “You’re already bringing them with us … what’s up with that, by the way?! And now you’re trying to get out of it the night before the trip? And I’m supposed to … what?”

  “Babe,” he murmured, looking for contact again.

  “Oh good God, what are you trying to pull here!” She held out her hands to keep him away. “So, according to you, I should just be perfectly happy to go on vacation with your mom and dad?!”

  “But …”

  “No. No!” She shook her head. “That would be a nightmare.”

  “Nightmare? Come on, Hannah. That’s bullshit. It’s not like they’re unbearable.”

  “It’s not about them being bearable. I hardly know them. What in the hell would I do with them for fifteen days?”

  “Fifteen? Who said fifteen? It would only be a couple of days.”

  “A couple of …? Wait. I don’t get what you’re saying at all.”

  “No way would I be in Tacoma that long! Are you serious? Two, three days at the most. Then I’ll join you guys in Italy.”

  Stunned, she sat back down.

  She tried to process what was happening. His demand no longer seemed so absurd, even though it was still unacceptable.

  “So? Do we agree, babe?”

  “The hell we agree. Three days is seventy-two hours. And then there’s all the traveling. What am I supposed to say to them on the airplane? All four of our seats are together.”

  He looked pensive and stared at her for a few seconds, then sighed in surrender.

  “Listen. The main reason that I’m going to Tacoma is for us.”

  “Us?”

  “I wanted it to be a surprise, but seeing how this has turned into our first real fight in two years together, maybe it’s time to tell you that I’m planning my own startup.”

  The shock of it disarmed her to the point that she couldn’t articulate a word.

  “I’ve already found a place for our future office, in a business park out in the suburbs where the rent is more affordable.” He walked towards the refrigerator as he talked. “Every time we go to lunch Arnav tells me how he’s tired of feeding the bank accounts of people who enjoy ordering us around. He’s got a couple of friends, just graduated but really solid, and they’d follow him if he started his own business.” He searched through the fridge and found one of the bottles of his favorite beer that she kept stocked for him.

  “I can win over these guys from Tacoma for good and bring them on when I start my business.” He took a drink. “A company like that, which is on the forefront of medical devices, especially in biotech, would open the door for dozens of other contracts for me! Arnav is brilliant. We trust each other more than if we were brothers by blood!” Enthusiasm shone in his eyes. “He and his team would be able to create excellent software. I’d be finding the clients and selling it to them. And with all the biotech R&D in this area … Look, I don’t want to put the cart before the horse, but I believe I could do great things.”

  “Me, me, me! You’re just talking about yourself and your job.”

  Her initial curiosity in his plan had turned bit by bit into disappointment. She felt put in second place. As long as she’d been with him, she’d never before seen this determined businessman who’d just taken over the body of her thoughtful, loving boyfriend with such cockiness.

  “Not ‘me,’ babe. When we get the startup as big as Alex’s, if you want, maybe you could join us. In management, not as a regular employee. But right now your position is solid and I’d never want you involved in such a risky enterprise, even if it has great potential.”

  “Join you in management … So I could make Lifeline?” She saw a ray of sun peek out from behind the clouds.

  “Huh?”

  “My project! The one about my app!”

  “Oh, yeah. That one, too.”

  “You don’t sound very sure.”

  “Sorry, babe. You haven’t talked about it anymore, so I assumed you gave up.”

  “I didn’t talk about it anymore because you told me that it’s not that convenient, economically speaking,” she explained, while the clouds came back to obscure the sun …

  “Yeah, I thought I had convinced you and you stopped thinking about that.”

  “Well, guess what! I’m still thinking about it.”

  He remained quiet, and that sharpened her frustration.

  “So?” she pressed him. “If your new company will do well, we could try, couldn’t we?

  “Babe, maybe you’ve got too many irons in the fire … Let me see what Arnav and I can do. Then we’ll talk about it. How about that?”

  His pathetic attempt to sell her a ‘no’ as a ‘maybe’ humiliated her pride and embittered her mood. Regretting opening the subject, she forgot about her dream and focused back on the vacation.

  “Okay, Ryan. So, what’s gonna happen tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow you and my parents leave for Italy. I’ll join you in a couple of days.”

  She scowled.

  “A couple of days that could make our future … better. I’m sorry,” he added quickly, watching her scowl deepen.

  “Why don’t we postpone the trip until you’re done in Tacoma? I mean, it’s only a few days.”

  “I thought about that, but the apartment where we’re staying is already booked for those two weeks. I read Porto Loreno is so full of tourists in July that you can’t even find a third rate B&B.”

  “We could go to another town. I’m sure Italy hasn’t run out of nice places to visit.”

  “ ‘Booked’ means my dad’s already paid.”

  “What about cutting short our stay? Instead of Saturday, we’d get there Monday.”

  “Babe, the airline tickets are nontransferable. You know that one-way tickets cost more than round trip. Three to Frankfurt and three to Rome! Not to mention buying them a few days before the flight would cost an arm and a leg.”

  At least on this, he was right.

  “Plus, the car service to drive us to Porto Loreno. It’s already booked for Saturday and paid for … Do you really want my dad to lose all that money because you can’t stand to spend a few hours with those horrible people?”

  “You’re such a bastard,” she burst out, bothered by his acid tone.

  She stood up and moved to the window.

  “Come on, Hannah,” he said, trying to calm things down. He set the bottle down near her laptop. “You’re drawing this out for nothing.”

  She was about to lash out at him. Her instincts strained at their leash, but she had the impression that he was counting on this. Rather than responding to him, therefore, she looked down at the street, keeping an eye on his reflection in the glass. She saw him get close to her. He seemed sorry. She hoped he wouldn’t touch her, because she didn’t know how she’d react in that moment.

  Under the
weight of silence, she considered the situation.

  The unexpected ding of an arriving text to Ryan’s phone shattered the stillness.

  She turned, curious to see whether he’d dare give a text precedence over a delicate moment like this. But evidently he knew better than to do that; just as he’d realized not to reach for her a moment ago, he ignored his phone now.

  Heartened by his respectful attitude, she was going to tell him her decision when she noticed some money on the table.

  “What is that?”

  “Oh. They’re euros. It’s good to have cash on hand. I figure it’s not very smart to depend completely on credit cards.”

  She appreciated his thoughtfulness, but something still rankled at her. As though everything was already set up with no room for her opinion. She had already decided what she’d do, but this latest pressure only distanced them further.

  “I suppose that if Alex had told me this morning that there was a huge problem on the app I worked on thi— this year, I’d also be leaning towards delaying my departure for a couple of days, without wanting to me— mess up yours.”

  She’d hesitated because his phone had chimed with two more incoming text messages.

  “So, tomorrow you’re leaving with my parents?” he said while checking his phone.

  Such an awful move!

  “Problem?” Her voice oozed sarcasm.

  “No. It’s Arnav. I’ll answer him later.” He put his phone back in his pocket. “So, are we all set?”

  “…”

  “Please! I’m totally wiped out, and I still have to explain this mess to my parents.”

  At least he’d had the decency to talk about it with her first. But it wasn’t enough.

  “I love you and the last thing that I want is to see you mad. I’m only asking you for understanding about a situation that is bigger than me.”

  “Okay, Ryan. Tomorrow I’ll leave with your parents like you want. On one condition.”

  “Whatever it is, yes.”

  “Perfect. Then leave and don’t call me until I call you.”

  4. The Flight

  And here we go! Hannah thought.

  The take-off phase was over and now the plane was soaring above the clouds. After unfastening their seatbelts, a new danger loomed: making conversation with the Corwins. The hardest thing was trying to figure out what they thought behind their politeness, since she didn’t know how they’d taken the idea of traveling without Ryan. She had been tempted to set aside her pride and call him to ask before leaving but, still too mad, she’d preferred to throw herself into the unknown. Now she regretted it. She had to make it through ten very slow hours before they landed in Frankfurt, an eternity of a trip if you also counted the wait in that airport, the flight to Rome, and the drive to Porto Loreno. She really couldn’t see how she’d survive it. She had her e-reader, there were infinite options on the touch screens embedded in the seats, and planning to get a few hours of sleep to fight the impending jet lag seemed reasonable. However, avoiding them for the whole trip was unthinkable. She didn’t mind talking to them; it was more about not knowing what subjects to discuss and how to fill awkward silences, since she couldn’t excuse herself and leave. The fear of running out of things to say roamed her mind like a ghost in a castle that gave her shivers every time it dragged its chains and howled.

  Right, so what can we talk about?

  That they were her boyfriend’s parents reduced the number of topics, and combined with not knowing them very well, everything seemed quite embarrassing. Besides the dinner where Ryan introduced them, she’d only spoken to them briefly at Uncle Paul’s party and then cousin Carrie’s birthday. Not to mention the anxiety about her first long flight, since she’d never flown farther than Las Vegas.

  She would have called Lauren before leaving her house that very morning to tell her what Ryan had done. A little venting would have been healthy but, considering the fast-approaching meeting with the Corwins, she found it wiser to keep all the tension inside her in order to stay focused. She knew that letting it out freed you, but she was about to spend several entire days with two strangers who were both her boyfriend’s parents and the financiers of the vacation. If she felt too free, she might do or say something impulsive that could make her seem arrogant or ungrateful. So, she’d simply sent a succinct and diplomatic text to inform her about Ryan’s work conflict, saving the full story for the next time they talked.

  The only good thing was that, once on board, the Corwins hadn’t made her sit between them—they were in one of the middle rows, with Roger on the aisle, Susan next to him, and then her. The seat that should have been Ryan’s remained empty, so they used it to set down some of their personal effects.

  Until that moment, what with check-in, stopping at a cafe, boarding, and her thanking them for the vacation, she had easily found enough conversational topics to avert an impasse. Their clothing choices had helped enormously. She’d so far only seen Susan dress with a refined elegance, hair always immaculately styled, which had put her in awe regardless of the fact that she was Ryan’s mother. Instead, the woman who stepped out of the taxi in a casual ensemble of black jeans and an indigo sweater, with her long brown hair held back by a fabric headband, looked so young that no one would have guessed her age to be fifty-three. Roger, graying hair slicked back, wore a suit—like the ones he’d worn before—that hid his extra pounds very well, the little shortcoming of his belly only visible when he sat down. Now, the game had started and Susan wasn’t the one who blew the opening whistle like she’d assumed.

  “So your grandmother’s parents were from Porto Loreno?” Roger asked and sipped the ginger ale the flight attendant had just served him.

  “No. I mean, I don’t think so. Probably not.”

  The Corwins turned toward her—him leaning over because his wife was in the middle—and gave her a puzzled look.

  “My great-grandparents were Italian, but they met in New York,” she went on, adjusting the blanket on her legs as she began to feel cold. “They each left Italy on their own, then met, got married, and moved to New Jersey. They had three children, including my grandma Julia. She wasn’t that close with her parents, because she was the last born. At the time it wasn’t like today, she always told me, where the youngest often gets more attention. Just the opposite. She grew up in a difficult situation, and resolved to have a life of her own as soon as possible. That’s why she married my grandpa before she was even twenty. He was from Spokane, so they moved there before coming to start a family in Seattle. I imagine she never dug into her family’s origins because they weren’t close. The only thing that she passed down from them was a love of the language, which I came to share.”

  “Yes, Ryan told us you speak Italian very well.”

  “That’s an exaggeration, Susan. I’m able to carry on a conversation because I understand almost everything, although I can’t express myself in a fluent way. I make lots of mistakes when I speak,” she added, trying to relax and be less formal.

  “Are you putting yourself down?”

  “I’m really not, Roger.”

  “I suppose you must have taken some classes,” Susan said in interest, with the friendly air of someone trying to put the speaker at ease.

  “Actually, no. From when I was very little, Grandma used to add Italian words and phrases into everything she said to me,” she continued, hoping that her voice wouldn’t show the sudden lump of nostalgia she felt in her throat. “That’s how, without realizing it, my love for that language bloomed. When I grew up, I started studying it for fun. And I still do.”

  “Sue, would you switch seats with Hannah? I’m getting a stiff neck from twisting like this.”

  “What do you think, dear?”

  “I’d be happy to.” She tried to keep her tone free from sarcasm.

  The move was complicated, due to both limited space between the rows of seats in economy class and the folding tables they’d
set their drinks on.

  “Oh! That’s much better,” Roger sighed, relaxing against his seat back.

  “So you are self-taught?”

  “Yes, Susan,” she nodded with a smile, undeterred by a sudden twinge in her inner ear.

  “I’ll tell you right now,” Roger said. “Ciao, grazie, and por favore. That’s all of our Italian.”

  “Luckily, you’ll be with us. So we won’t have to worry about how to communicate.”

  Clearly Susan spoke with good intentions, but implicit in her words was that they would be spending a lot of time together before Ryan’s arrival. She couldn’t work up any excitement about it.

  “So why didn’t you study the language at school? You could have been an interpreter. They supposedly make good money.”

  “No, Roger. I wasn’t interested in it as a career. I like learning Italian, listening to it, speaking it … but only as a hobby. As a job, I wanted to do what I do now.”

  “You work in tech, right?”

  “Yes, Susan. I’m a web designer.”

  “We probably already talked about it when Ryan brought you to dinner at our house, but four months have passed and I can’t remember very well. Roger, either.”

  “No problem, Susan. Plus, I didn’t say much that night.”

  “Right, dear. I guess you have learned by now that Ryan is kind of the main focus when he’s in a group,” Susan said, oozing motherly love.

  “So, what exactly does a web designer do?” Roger asked. “For someone like me who’s always built real homes in the real world, I’m afraid these virtual things remain kind of a mystery.”

  “I work on designing websites, and I take care of the graphic look of the web pages. But I also took some programming classes in college, so I’m able to coordinate with programmers to make a site work well. Basically, we want to make it as quick and intuitive to click through as possible. Plus, I help in making apps, given that everyone’s accessing websites through their smartphones by now.”

  “Interesting, dear. And how do you like working in this company?”

  “I like it very much.” Susan’s affable tone gradually worked to put her at ease. “Our boss demands a lot from us and makes us work hard, but he also understands when we have problems. And I get along with my coworkers, so we’re a great team.”