A Semester Abroad

by Papa, Ariella

  I couldn’t help picturing the two of us on these small streets. Sometimes he came up behind me and placed a hot hand on my neck. I saw us together in the kissing couples. I closed my eyes to envision him pressing me against the gray walls, more persistent than he had ever been. My skin shivered against the stone from where my shirt was lifted by his hand.

  These were the images that would do me in. This was Crazy trying to trick me.

  I should have listened to Kaitlin that day when Jonas came up to us in the student center. I was helping her work on a mural with her art class. I couldn’t draw, but I was letting her boss me around, enjoying the sight of her red hair tied back, fingers pointing and wiping paint on her jean cutoffs. All I had to do was keep filling in the sky with the cobalt blue paint it had taken Kaitlin hours to decide on.

  Kaitlin ran a tight ship, and she went to pester one of the freshmen about his choice of color for one of the parts of the mural. She left me alone with Jonas.

  I knew him through friends. I knew him from parties. He lived in my dorm. I chatted with him about our plans for the weekend.

  “You, uh, got a little something on your face,” he said, gesturing to his own. He smiled at me. I don’t think we ever really looked at each other before that minute. I don’t think we saw each other the same after that. I don’t know why, how it happened. I could feel the paint on me, but I wiped the opposite side of my face.

  “Other side,” he said.

  “Oh,” I said and overshot so I was scratching above.

  “No, here,” he said, shifting his book bag and touching my face for the first time. I smiled at him.

  “Are you going to the cafeteria soon?” I asked hoping it would sound casual. “I could use a dinner break.”

  “I, uh,” he hesitated. In that hesitation, I understood how out of reach he was. In that hesitation, I was hooked. “I actually have to go to a screening for class.”

  “Okay,” I said, hoping it wouldn’t sound devastated.

  When he was gone, Kaitlin was at my side. “You know he has a girlfriend, right?”

  She didn’t think I was that kind of girl. I didn’t either.

  I still don’t.

  “I heard she took the semester off. Besides, it was just dinner.” I said. I ignored the face I knew she was making and went back to filling in the sky.

  Olivia was leaving for Florence. Her three weeks in Siena were done. She would live with a family. She and Suzie agreed to be roommates in Firenze as well.

  Olivia and I went to the Duomo because she wanted to go to the cathedral one more time before she left. My group had already been to the Duomo twice. I knew more about architecture, the painters the Lorenzetti brothers and the ancient tribe of Etruscans who founded Siena and their legacy than I ever could have anticipated. Everywhere I turned I encountered a fresco by some famous painter that Kaitlin would have loved. It was mostly lost on me.

  As Olivia walked around the cathedral looking at the artwork, I could see that Olivia’s group had also been inundated with “culture.” We started pointing things out to each other, trying to outdo each other with our respective facts about what statement the artist was trying to make through Mary and baby Jesus’ expression. We speculated as to why Jesus was sometimes a sour-faced baby and sometimes a mini adult in Mary’s arms. We tried to keep straight faces as we spoke as academically as possible. Then I started making up facts about the artist Giotto and Olivia lost it, drawing stern looks from the Sienese women praying in the pews.

  “Andiamo,” Olivia said, laughing hard. “I’m hungry.”

  “I could eat a fresco,” I said as she pulled me out of the Duomo and we stood giggling on the steps.

  We found an osteria behind the Duomo. The people in the restaurant were so friendly to us that we knew we wanted to stay. We didn’t even need to look at the menu before deciding to sit down. The host led us downstairs into a cave. He sat us in a private alcove.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, looking up at the cool brown walls.

  “It’s like an Etruscan tomb,” said Olivia, not meaning to invoke the game again. The waitress brought us glasses of prosecco for no reason. I looked at Olivia, confused, but when Olivia shrugged, it was good enough for me. We clinked our glasses together and said “chin chin” like we heard the Italians say in all the bars. I drank the bubbly white wine and smiled.

  We ordered crostini and bruscetta and declared it the best we had ever had. Olivia ordered a bottle of Chianti, and we each got some sort of pasta that we didn’t quite understand. There was no rush to this meal or to any meal I experienced in Italy. Olivia confessed a secret that she hadn’t even told Suzie. She kissed one of the milatario that she and Suzie met one night at the Re Artu bar when I was out with Janine and Michelle.

  “How come Suzie didn’t, you know, see you kiss him?”

  “I waited till she went to the bathroom. Now he’s off to Sicily.”

  When the plates of pasta came we ordered another bottle of wine and I was sure that we were glowing from sulfites and happiness. We each took a deep breath of our food and sighed, then smiled, realizing we did the same thing. Olivia got a type of ravioli, and I got thin, small, twisted pasta. We both got sauces made of truffles. The pasta was not drenched in sauce but barely coated. Still, it tasted heavy and rich. It was heaven.

  “This meal tastes of everything that is good in the earth,” I said, knowing it would make her laugh. I felt this urgent need to communicate with someone who understood me in my language.

  Olivia told me that Gaetano called her hotel the day after we met him.

  “I don’t know why. We weren’t even that nice to them,” I said. I was jealous that she had a phone, something to keep her in touch with the outside world. She didn’t have to hope as I did that people remembered me when I ran into them on the street.

  “It’s not how nice we are; it’s how bella.” She accentuated the syllables. “You have no idea how hard it is to try to talk to these people over the phone. They just keep saying English words over and over like they have that disorder.”

  I giggled. Olivia was becoming beautiful to me. I was getting too accustomed to her looks, to the mole on her lip, her straight dark bangs and the scar on her temple. That was how I could gauge the strength of our friendship. Her features were no longer strange but familiar and comforting.

  Olivia wondered what would happen if Suzie and Kurt keep going at the rate they were. “It’s not like school; I can’t just run down the hall and sleep in someone else’s bed.”

  “Have they done it yet?” I asked.

  “No,” she rolled her eyes. “They haven’t even kissed. She’s one of those.”

  “A prude,” I said.

  “Virgin,” she said.

  “Wow,” I said. “I can’t imagine she will be much longer in this country with all this,” I gestured to the wine.

  “I know,” Olivia said, mopping up the last of her truffle sauce with a piece of crusty bread.

  For dessert, we had cappuccino and tiramisu and zuppa inglese, rolling each creamy dessert flavor around our mouths. I was falling into a food delirium. We asked for the check, but they brought us cantucci and vin santo instead. We were already feeling drunk, but we dipped the little biscuits into the dessert wine. When il conto came, it really wasn’t all that expensive.

  “We could come here every week or at least every time you visit,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as desperate as I felt. Maybe she wouldn’t return. Who knew what Firenze had in store for her? I might be left with no one to laugh with, trapped in someone else’s language.

  Olivia invited me to go to the bar Re Artu with her for a last drink with her group. I didn’t want to spend time talking to all the people that were leaving. Besides, my tiny bed was actually inviting with my belly full of this much food. But I walked her around thecampo over to the bar. The streets were crowded with people walking in giro. These walks in

  giro—basically just walking around the tow
n—were the pastime of the Italians before they went to their bars or café. We stopped in front of the bar.

  “Ci vediamo presto,” she said. We will see each other soon. “It’s only an hour away on the Pullman or train. You have the number. Call in a few days.”

  And it saddened me a little that the first thing I thought was that I didn’t know if I could handle the conversations that would be involved in getting those Pullman or train tickets. Getting to Florence was another maze I would have to run through.

  “Si, certo,” I agreed, smiling. We hugged goodbye, and she went into the bar.

  I started to walk home and noticed that a group of people was gathered outside a paninoteca on Via Independenza. There were two men fighting viciously. I couldn’t see their faces but I saw Dino and Giovanni in the crowd. They spotted me as I went over to them. They kissed me on both cheeks before turning their eyes back the fight.

  “Hai visto Gaetano?” Dino asked, gesturing toward the fight. I followed his gaze and realized it was Gaetano holding on to some guy’s nose, drawing blood. He looked like an animal and had a nasty scratch on his forehead. The friends of his victim pulled the nosebleeder away.

  Gaetano bent at the waist, put his hands on his thighs and breathed out. Dino called to him, and Gaetano looked up to see us. He came over immediately, practically panting, his breath coming white into the brisk night air. Dino said something to him in dialect, and Gaetano nodded. He didn’t kiss me; he was bloody and sweaty. He took a cigarette from Giovanni. “How are you, Gabi?”

  “Fine, and you?” In English, I would have made a joke about the fight he had gotten into. In English, I could try and be a little witty in lieu of this situation. In Italian, I was a dumb girl who didn’t say much and kept her voice low.

  His answer made his friends laugh, but I couldn’t understand him. I assumed he said something like, “I’m good, but you should see the other guy.”

  “What happened?” I asked. In the distance was the sound of sirens. It was polizia or caribinieri. I still didn’t know the difference. Only their tiny cars were allowed to come down those streets at night. Gaetano took my hand. He was still holding it when his friends said that he needed to leave.

  “Will you call me?” He asked this twice, in both of our languages

  “Gaetano, dai!” His friends were anxious. They started to tug his dirty sleeve. He was still holding my hand. He wouldn’t leave until I answered.

  “Will you call me?” I didn’t want to, but the dumb girl who couldn’t say much and found it necessary to smooth things over answered to appease the anxious friends.

  “Si.”

  “Sicura?” Was I sure? Of course not. I didn’t have a phone. I had nothing.

  “Si,” I lied. And then he smiled and ran off with his friends, leaving me alone on the suddenly empty street.

  I crossed the campo before the polizia arrived.

  5.

  Janine had a boyfriend named Roberto. She met him at the enoteca. He was from Sicily, and he had a car. He could also speak English, which made life a lot easier for Janine. He was the ideal boyfriend for her.

  One night, I was sitting at the table in the hallway working on my compito when Janine came up to me. I looked up from my homework. She didn’t say it right away, but I could tell almost immediately from the bright smile that she wanted something.

  “How’s it going, Gab?” I hated to be called that. Michelle in some of her relaxed moments had taken to calling me G, but Gab I hated. I didn’t say that, though.

  “Bene.” We used the little Italian we knew like slang in the house.

  “What are you up to stasera?” Janine liked to inflect all the Italian dramatically.

  “Tonight? Not much. I feel sort of sick.” Almost a month of cold weather had taken its toll on me. I was sniffling and my head felt stuffy.

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” said Janine. She put her hand on my shoulder. I wanted to believe she genuinely felt bad for me, but I saw the gesture for what it was, a means to an end. “Because I was going to see if you want to go out with me and Michelle and Roberto and two of his friends to that club Tendenza.”

  “I probably shouldn’t.” Though actually moving, dancing, not just sitting sounded good.

  “C’mon, don’t be a nerd.” She made one of her funny faces. “I’m not going to ask Lisa.”

  She wouldn’t care so much if it weren’t to please a guy. But I did want to check out that club and it would be easier to go in a car. I could be resting in America, hiding in my bed as I had in the past. Now I was in Italy, and I reminded myself that I shouldn’t miss any experience. “All right.”

  “Nice, G,” Michelle said walking through the hallway. She was eating an apple. It was probably one of the only things she ate that day. I suspected that Michelle puked in my bathroom so Janine wouldn’t hear it. Michelle trailed the scent of perfume behind her. That smell reminded me of Kaitlin. It made me think of times when I was happy and we went out together, just to have fun, not to prove anything or to drown any sorrows.

  “Yeah, it’s going to be kickass. So I was wondering if I could look at your clothes and see if I want to borrow anything.” At last, Janine made the real request.

  “Sure, check it out. I might want to check out your stuff, too.”

  “No prob, Gab,” said Janine ready to begin her search-and-recovery mission. She was already in Lisa’s room when she added, “If you think you’ll find something that fits you.”

  I heard Lisa giggle. Lisa thrived on any insults that were not directed at her. Janine hadn’t invited her out, and Lisa was going to be bitter. It was worse that Janine decided to model all of my clothes that she liked for Lisa. Lisa complimented everything. She was hoping for an invite, hoping at last to get out of the life she has chosen, sitting in our empty apartment, studying hard to show off to people who didn’t like her.

  I tried on everything I liked in Janine’s closet, too. My larger chest stretched out Janine’s sexy cheap tight black shirts. I defiantly buttoned up a red wraparound skirt. It was a little tight around the hips, but I didn’t care. I didn’t appreciate her comments.

  I settled on one of her dresses. It was tight and gray but styled like a schoolgirl uniform. I could wear my own black shirt under it, and it would fit me even shorter than it fit Janine. I felt like looking good tonight.

  I went back into my room for more primping. I shut the door so Lisa, who was pacing nervously around the apartment, could not prey on me. She kept sighing and mentioning how she needed to work on her American celebrations essay, hoping if she sighed loud enough, someone would give her another option. It didn’t work. At last, Lisa came sheepishly into my room. I continued lining my lips.

  “So you’re going out with them.” From the way Lisa said them, I knew she had already glorified them. They were the cool kids she was never going to be. I began applying the gloss with more care than usual. I considered wearing eyeliner.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Did they ask you?”

  “Well, I didn’t just tag along. I don’t do that.” I turned to Lisa, holding her eyes. Her forehead was full of acne. It had to be stress.

  “Can I come?” No one with any sense of pride would ask this when they are so obviously not wanted. Is she liked somewhere else, I wondered. Is there anywhere this girl has friends? I finished my bottom lip before answering. I almost pitied her. She was just trying to impress Janine when she giggled at her comment. I should be the bigger person. I should understand that she was lonely and desperate. But I wasn’t a saint or a psychiatrist.

  “I don’t know, Lisa. It’s not my thing. It’s Janine’s. It’s her boyfriend. You should ask her.” I tried to make my voice softer, kinder. She looked at me, pleadingly. I tried not to think about all the times she corrected me and acted like a know-it-all. “All right, I’ll come with you.”

  “C’mon,” Lisa left my room in a hurry, glancing back to make sure I followed her out through the kitchen into the b
etter bedroom, where Janine and Michelle slept. Michelle was checking her face out carefully in the mirror. Janine was in the bathroom. I pretended to need to borrow some perfume. Lisa asked Michelle if she could go out with us. Maybe she wasn’t as socially inept as I thought; she was picking the nicer one.

  Michelle was nervous, not sure how to answer, but she didn’t have to because Janine emerged from the bathroom. She was dressed more conservatively than she usually was for going out. Roberto liked Janine to dress like this. Janine said he was traditional. He wanted her to be modest, even though he liked the fact that he could fuck her the first time they met.

  “You can’t come, Lisa, there just isn’t room in the car,” Janine took charge while giving me a quick look up and down. She turned to Michelle. “Do I look okay?”

  “You look good.” Michelle said, for once barely giving Janine any attention. She wanted to look good tonight too and kept shifting her outfit in the mirror.

  Lisa looked at me. Again with the pleading. This was where I was supposed to intervene. Fine.

  “I’m sure we can make room in the car,” I said. I looked over at Michelle. She let herself meet my eyes for exactly a second, before glancing quickly at Janine and then back at her reflection.

  “Do you want to switch with her?” Janine asked me. “I mean, there is only so much room in the car.”

  “We can sit on laps,” I tried. I was starting to fret that I was going to lose my chance to get out of this freezing apartment.

  “That’s with sitting on laps,” Janine said. She smiled at Lisa. “Next time, Lisa. Gabriella is already ready, anyway. Maybe sometime we’ll go out when it isn’t a school night.”

  A good woman would offer to stay with her. A better one might switch. But I was neither and the idea of staying with her in the frigid apartment or, worse, staying by myself was more than I could take. I looked at her and tried to convey my apologies.