by Marlene Hill
“It’s also obvious that either Aletta or someone in her agency had been negligent. No one even visualized how it would be to actually live there.”
“I’m sure you’re exactly right.”
“You’re patronizing me. I don’t blame you. Let’s change the subject.”
They entered his apartment, and he crooked his arm around her neck, pulled her close, and said, “What shall we talk about?”
“You’re choice. I’m all talked out.”
“I have a project in mind that doesn’t require talk.”
“Let me guess,” she said.
“You’ll never guess.”
“Oh?”
“Before I left for the museum, I put bedding in the laundry, “ he said, “and rather than talk, you could help me make up the bed. And then—”
“Then we could take a bath together and settle in for the night,” she said reaching up to feel the raspy growth of his beard, running her finger across his mustache and full lower lip. “Why is it I like the feel of your stubble?”
“Interesting question. Come on, let’s do our chores, then we’ll concentrate on your beard question.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Sunday morning, Giulia filled a breakfast bowl with strawberries she’d found at the Rialto market. She added a dollup of plain yogurt and felt satisfied, but Chuck whipped up a three-egg frittata for himself. As he drank a third cup of coffee, he looked up from the Gazzettino, the Venetian paper, to watch Giulia twirl a strand of hair while working on a crossword puzzle from the International Herald Tribune. He wondered when this fly-boy had ever felt such pleasure in doing nothing?
“Do you have big plans for the day?” he asked.
“None. I’m sick of fretting about that apartment. And you?”
“It’s a glorious day out there. How about a walk along the Lido’s sea wall down to Pellestrina?”
“Perfect. But I’ll need hiking clothes and boots from my wretched place.”
“While you’re doing that, I’ll go to Antonio’s. I’ve been hankering for his fabulous panini. You know his place on Frezzaria?”
“I know Calle Frezzaria, but Antonio’s?”
“Antonio is the main man there, can’t remember what the shop’s called.”
“What shall I bring?”
“Yourself will be plenty. Can you meet me at Piazzale Roma in front of the bus ticket office?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll get my car from the garage and we’ll catch a ferry to the Lido.”
“Good idea. The Lido bus takes forever and hardly makes any stops.” She carried her bowl to the sink. “Okay Karlo, I’m off.”
When Chuck drove to where Giulia stood waiting, he felt a little hitch in his chest. She looked so small standing in baggy, navy-blue cargo pants and clumpy walking boots. She wore a loose Tee-shirt to match the pants, but there was no way she could disguise her sweet body. Oh Lord. How lucky to have her in my life. Now, can I keep her? If I play an entrapment game like old Peter the Pumpkin Eater did, I’ll lose her. The only way is to somehow make sure Giulia believes it’s her idea to move back into my pumpkin shell.
* * *
All day long the weather had been perfect. But it began to rain while they were on the number eleven bus traveling back north from Pellestrina to the Alberoni inlet where they’d left Chuck’s car. When the bus stopped, the rain was coming down hard and gusts were blowing in from the sea. They dashed for the safety of his little Fiat minutes before the sky opened up with a thundering torrent. It was slow going north along the two-lane road. But, they were in luck, because the lights of a ferry were approaching just as they drove onto the Lido’s dock.
As they stood at the window of the ferry while crossing the lagoon to Venice, Chuck held her from behind. “It’s been a great day, Micina. We goofed around, got a little exercise and—”
“And?”
“Nothing, just rambling.”
“You don’t ramble. And what?” She faced him.
“It took your mind off that… apartment.”
“You bet it did,” she said, turning back toward the window. “And now the perfect ending to our day is to watch the magical skyline of our Venice emerge through the mist.”
His chin rested on her head, and he took in the scent from her hair: part sea-salt, part jasmine shampoo and part sexy woman.
Giulia had already planned to stay at her place. But, on one of those hunches that Chuck often had, he followed her up the stairs to her apartment.
“I want a decent kiss before I leave you tonight.”
They put their sandy boots outside her door on a mat of woven rush she’d found in a flea market. The minute they opened the door, they felt a cool, damp breeze ruffling the gauzy curtains in the narrow entry way. Giulia started to rush down the hall toward the bedrooms where the gusts came from, but Chuck held her back.
“Let me go first,” he whispered.
She waited, trusting his instincts.
He was back in minutes. “No one’s here,” he said, “but you left a window open in the spare room and the rain’s blowing in.”
“I did not leave that window open. Two days ago, the handle came off in my hand. I called Aletta, but, of course, she had to arrange for its repair.”
He said nothing.
“Oh no. Look at this bed,” she said. “Soaked. I bought new sheets and pillow cases with lacy tatting on them because Nonna’s planning to come for a visit.” Her voice had risen into a whine. “I wanted it nice for her.” She began ripping the bed apart. “This is the last straw!”
Chuck stood in the doorway. With her arms full of bedding, she wheeled toward him when her stocking-foot slipped on the wet floor. He lunged and caught her before her backside hit the tile. But he lost his own balance and they both ended on the floor in a heap of wet linens.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No, I’m not okay. What do you think?”
He waited.
“I wedged a broken broom handle between the window and the bed.”
“That was a good plan.”
“Yeah, so why didn’t it work?”
“Guess the force of nature was too much.”
“Some kind of force is working against me here.”
“Might be a good time to break your lease. Seems to me you’d have every right without having to pay a penalty.”
“I should never have rented a furnished apartment. Should have found something else. Should never have rented a place with the owner all the way down in Calabria.”
He got up and lifted her to her feet. She sighed. “All I saw was the canal.”
“I know.” He gathered up the wet linens. “Where shall I put these?”
“I’ll take them.”
He followed her and closed the door to the small room. There’d be less chance of gusts from the window. After she slammed the laundry-room door, he said, “Sit in the kitchen. I’ll fix tea and we’ll make plans.” He pulled out the new teapot and dumped in a few loose tea leaves.
“I need to clean up the mess, first,” she said with dry towels in hand.
“It’s only water, angel. You make the tea and let me take these. Maybe I can find something more substantial than that light-weight cot to wedge the window closed. Okay?”
“Okaaay.”
She heard a loud screech, two thumps and a bump and he was back with damp towels in his arms. “The window won’t open again until it’s repaired properly. Were these towels okay to wipe the floor?”
“Sure. The whole mess’ll need washing anyway. What’d you use?”
“A large wooden dresser that stood in the corner. It’s heavy enough, but it needs work. For a second, I thought it was coming apart but it held.”
Giulia sighed. “What a jerk I’ve been and—”
“No reason to blame yourself. Come sit while we wait for the tea.”
They sat but Giulia still seemed wound up tight.
“Who would expect an
apartment run by a reputable agency to be in such terrible condition?” he said.
She got up and walked around, still agitated. “I didn’t tell you about the crazy doorbell. I leaned out the window and felt like one of those old Italian women who watch the street all day. Finally a man came and fixed it.”
“So?”
“The next morning, a horrible buzzing woke me. I wandered around in a stupor until I discovered it was coming from the bell mounted at my front door. I could not make the thing stop. If I’d had a hammer . . .”
Chuck smothered a laugh.
“I got the cover off and located the part making the noise, but when I let go, the racket started again. With that sound battering my brain, I managed to close the door to the hall and call Aletta. Had to leave a message, of course.”
“After an interminable ten minutes, the clever girl called to suggest I go downstairs and push the button. Maybe it was stuck. Maybe a mail carrier had pushed bells at random to get into the outer door. I threw on clothes and ran down leaving that screech behind. And guess what?”
The tea kettle shrilled. He poured boiling water into the teapot.
“Sure enough, a new brass button was all the way in its socket. I pushed. Nothing happened. I shoved again, hard, and finally it popped out. She was right. When I got up here, the noise had stopped. Peace at last, but no more sleep.”
“You’ve had your share of problems, for sure.”
“The problems are endless. A lamp in the spare room was no good so I bought another one and added it to my list. The cord on a heavy floor lamp in the living room was frayed. After it sparked the second time, I dragged it into the far corner of the entryway and exchanged it for a table lamp that sat beneath the stairs to the loft. Don’t ask what junk is stashed up there.”
Giulia plopped down, deflated, and he poured the tea. “Thanks for your patience, Chuck.”
He sat down and lifted his cup to smell the brew.
She did the same. “Ah jasmine. You found the good tea.”
She began again. “Don’t know if you noticed the door into my apartment is oily around the strike plate.”
He shook his head.
“I swab it with olive oil daily. It was giving me trouble and I worried that I couldn’t get inside some cold, dark, rainy, stormy, miserable night.”
At this last complaint, he couldn’t stop a big chuckle from rumbling out. She saw his face and broke out laughing, too. “You’re right, I need to get out of here. Do you think The Marc would know a real-estate lawyer?”
“We’ll call him tomorrow. How about leaving this miserable place?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Marc did know someone in real-estate law, and late Monday afternoon Giulia started the lease-breaking process. All parties knew she was moving out, but the lawyer urged her to maintain a semblance of possession until papers were legally filed. She’d grown to hate everything about the place and didn’t want to stay another day. Earlier she’d been determined to stick out the six-month lease to give Chuck time. But in spite of her tantrum when the rain blew in, he’d made it clear he wanted her with him. The truth? She was the one who felt conflicted. Did he truly accept her in spite of her past?
Then Aletta called and asked Giulia for a huge favor.” The new custom-made mattress would be delivered from Milan on Wednesday, the fourteenth of May, but she couldn’t be there. Could Giulia do that for her? Giulia agreed without much grace, but Aletta didn’t seem to notice.
On Tuesday she called again announcing in her cheery voice that the mattress had arrived in Venice, but with heavy rains and a high tide, boats were having trouble getting under low bridges. She still expected delivery on Wednesday. “Thursday for sure,” she sang out and hung up.
Giulia had been noticing water sloshing onto the fondamenta when boats went by although most pilots moved cautiously during high-water times. Wednesday morning, Aletta called saying, “Maybe late in the afternoon, when the tide and wind go down. Even though you’re moving out,” she trilled, “at least you’ll have a few decent nights in the apartment.”
It didn’t matter a fig to Giulia anymore, but it did sadden her to think of the fate of Venice. The old Venetians didn’t expect high water to come so often and certainly never in the middle of May. In the old days, acqua alta came only in November.
At 4:42 p.m., the doorbell rang. The mattress had arrived. She responded over the intercom but leaned out anyway to see the mattress man below. He looked up, waved and smiled. She liked him right away. His smile reminded her of Brian Dennehey, the stocky actor she’d always respected. And better yet, the man’s daughter came with him.
Together they carried the mattress to her door. She was pleased to see a father/daughter company in Italy. They set to work speaking quietly to each other. They’d been instructed to put the disgusting, floppy abomination up in the loft with all the other useless items stored there. So much for the “bonus space” advertised on the internet.
They installed a new frame made of handsome pieces of blond, polished wood. He demonstrated how Giulia might move leather straps on the slats to give them more or less support. Had Chuck ever seen a mechanism like this? She wanted to show it to him before she moved out. Should she make the bed? They might try it out before she vacated her “dream” apartment. But there was no time to make the bed, because, after the delivery people left, Chuck was at her door, maneuvering a borrowed handcart out of the freight elevator.
“What a clever idea,” she said and gave him a hug. “Are you still sure you want me moving in with you lock, stock and barrel?”
“I’m sure,” he said, holding her.
“It will be awhile before I get my apartment-hunting energy up again.”
“Maybe you won’t need to go hunting.”
“So you’re willing to take a risk with me, considering my past?”
Chuck’s eyes flashed and he dropped the handle of the cart on the floor. When it struck the tile, the sound rang out as angrily as the look on his face.
“Why the hell can’t you trust that I believe your explanation?” He held her away from him and looked straight into her eyes. “Methinks you protest too much. Which is it, Giulia?”
“So you do doubt me!”
“Not until sixty-seconds ago. What’s going on?”
“Well, you did have doubts about whether Tom was telling the truth.”
“Don’t even go there,” he snarled. “Tom and I have—we’re solid.”
“I thought you thought he had said what you wanted to hear.”
“You think too much.”
“I’d never heard you speak of this wonderful trustworthy friend until you insisted I go to the airport to meet him.”
“You weren’t reluctant about going until you saw who he was. Then the cat was out of the bag and you had to fess up.” Suddenly, Chuck heard his father’s voice arguing with his mother.
Giulia’s body seemed to crumple and turn in on herself. “I struggled a lot about when and how to tell you. It seemed best to do it right there at the airport.” She spoke so softly he could barely hear her.
“Yeah. Maybe so. But… hell, we’re veering off.” He didn’t want to be like his dad but couldn’t let it go. “I’m thinking you have the biggest trust issue here. Maybe the lumps in that bed are the perfect penance you’ve been looking for.” He turned, walked out and didn’t look back.
She stood stunned. What had she done? He’d been honest about how he felt. He’d shared his struggle over the whole thing. He’d given her every chance to explain. But she kept making him jump more and more hurdles. And he’d jumped them. Why had she goaded him… again? She’d gone too far.
She ran to the window overlooking the street below and leaned out. “Karlo, don’t go.”
He was walking away fast, but turned and jammed his hands in his pockets. He’d never felt so furious with her and knew his face was flushed. He was tempted to say for
all the neighborhood, ‘Need one last fuck?’ But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead he said, “What do you need?”
“Please wait. I… I love you,” she yelled.
He stood speechless, and she gasped herself. But hearing those words shouted for all the world to know told her they were the truest words she’d ever uttered. A couple of people walking by stopped to look at Chuck then up at Giulia. They shook their heads, smiled and walked on.
In a quieter voice, she asked, “Can we talk? I’ll be down in a sec.”
When she came out the door onto the sidewalk beside the canal, his dark eyebrows formed straight lines over those pale, wolf-like eyes. “Is this a game with you?”
“No! No game. I need to explain even more,” she said putting her hands on his forearms. “Somewhere else?”
“A public place,” he said, not wanting cozy intimacy.
“Of course.”
* * *
Giulia wrapped both hands around the stem of a glass of chilled white wine, and Chuck sipped a beer. Made in Sicily, Birra Messina had less than five percent alcohol. He was pleased this little bar near Campo Santa Margherita had it on tap. It was the only thing that pleased him at the moment. He needed to focus one more time on this complex woman huddled across from him.
She reminded him of the relationship with Ricky that ended in abortion.
He nodded, but felt exasperated. He took a small sip of beer.
She had avoided men for a year until she met Jason. She told about him lying from the first and his estranged wife showing up pregnant.
“I knew he wanted children, but I hadn’t been ready while in grad school. After that, I swore off men and wanted revenge.”
Chuck started to interrupt but sensed she needed to tell it all before she lost her courage. He sat back, drained his glass and signaled for another. Giulia lifted her glass to take a sip, but her hand shook. She set it back down and looked scared. Tears formed in her eyes but she blinked a few times obviously determined not to break down.
“I feel embarrassed. It was stupid to think I could get revenge against Ricky and Jason by taking money from strange men. When I first got the idea, I’d planned to go all the way. What did I care? My life was over anyway. Whatever they wanted, I’d give. But—”
