by Gail Mencini
“None for me,” Meghan said. “How about you?” She smiled at Bella and Hope.
Bella shook her head. She’d never really had a boyfriend. A casual date here and there, but work and school took most of her time. She didn’t even have many friends, not until the group planning to spend the summer protesting about Nicaragua had befriended her.
Bella had met one of the girls when she was studying outdoors, beside the large fountain at the entrance to their urban campus. The girl had plopped herself down next to Bella and started chatting, soon inviting Bella to join her and her friends that night for pizza.
Their political fervor had been contagious, partly because there was lively discourse and teasing among the group. Bella longed to expand her family to include more than her mother; after all, it had been only the two of them her entire life. Following their politics had been more a means to be included in the group than an active decision to support their causes.
Hope spoke with quiet pride. “I’ve been dating Charlie since high school, and we’ll be married after I finish college. He was in the Marines four years. He’s got a great business job. We could afford to get married now, but he wants me to finish college first, since my folks will help pay for it if I’m not married.”
Karen leaned forward, and her eyes had a mischievous look. “Did he like you coming to Italy?”
Hope shook her head. “Not at all.” She dropped her head and gazed at her hands. “I almost backed out at the last minute, but the money was nonrefundable, and it was something my mom really wanted for me.”
Karen nodded. “So it looks like you’re off the market. Right?”
Hope nodded.
Karen jumped off the bed and held up four fingers on one hand and three on the other. “Good odds, I’d say. Four men, three eligible women.”
“You’re not eligible,” Meghan said. “You’re practically engaged to Ed.”
“But I’m not. Not yet.” Karen wiggled her hips back and forth. “And I intend to have fun this summer. Other than Lee, who I’ll bet is a bookworm, they all seem to have potential."
Meghan nodded, a broad smile across her face.
Bella had to admit that the guys were a good-looking bunch. Lee was the most serious. Phillip, a total stud, acted a little standoffish. Was it because he had an attitude as an athlete? Stillman was definitely hot, friendly, and had that sexy Southern accent. Rune had kept them all laughing during their walk and had flirted with all of the girls.
These kids were friendlier than the students filing in and out of classes at City College. Maybe this summer in Italy wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
“Woo-hoo,” Rune said. “At UCLA, I’m used to the beach babes in California, but those twin blondes are hot. You can look at their eyes all you want, man,” he nodded at Lee, “but I plan to find other ways to tell them apart, and then I’ll be able to report on whether or not they’re natural blondes.”
Lee responded by throwing one of the hard, flat pillows at Rune’s head.
Stillman had invited Lee and Rune to come to the room he shared with Phillip after they had unpacked.
Phillip seemed a little put off by the lack of air conditioning and having to share a bathroom down the hall, but Stillman didn’t care. His first memories of the farm in Georgia with his mama and the preacher were when their only toilet was in a hot, airless bathroom added to the side of the house.
“I’m not sure I’d win if I arm-wrestled Hope,” Stillman said, “but she seems like a straight-up gal. Bella, on the other hand, matches her name. Beautiful. I call dibs on Bella.”
“Dibs?” Phillip scowled at Stillman. “There are no dibs.”
“Ahh,” Stillman said. “Every man for himself then?”
“Hell,” Rune said, “it’s always that way. I plan to frequent the locals, too. They’re not so puritanical about sex in Europe, you know. If I focus on their tiny bodies and big tits, I’ll be able to ignore their hairy pits.”
Lee stood up, grabbed the pillow from the other bed and sailed it toward Rune. Phillip followed the pillow and tackled Rune against the bed. Not to be left out of the wrestling, Stillman piled onto Phillip. Lee landed on the narrow bed between the guys and the wall and whacked them with one of the pillows. The bed swayed and creaked as if it would collapse. Grunts and laughter punctuated the air.
Stillman wondered how they’d all pair up this summer. It seemed inevitable with four guys and four gals together in Italy. Hot weather, wine, and an ocean separating them from home.
This was a pass-fail class, a welcome break from Stillman’s grindstone of pre-med courses and competition for the top grade in the class. He’d seen Lee before in large classes at the University of Michigan. Even though they were both aiming for medical school, on a campus that large it wasn’t unusual that they hadn’t met.
Lee was a natural enemy for him. With Affirmative Action in place and limited slots for med schools, a killer instinct was pervasive among white males in pre-med. Stillman would do whatever necessary to get the top grade in a class, and he suspected Lee was exactly the same way.
4
The next day, Paolo walked them for hours around Florence, reciting the city’s history in professorial fashion. He had the common sense to include stories of wars, rivalries, love affairs, and Mafiosi to keep their interest. He wanted them to embrace the city and recognize its neighborhoods, storied churches and piazzas.
Bella was surprised at how easily her classmates conversed and joked with each other. Once drawn into a conversation, she knew, if she had to, that she could hold her own with any of them. But that first step terrified her. She didn’t make friends easily and feared being the outsider all summer.
Bella stuck next to Hope. Having a roommate was a blessing, in that she had an excuse to tag along with the girl from Colorado.
The two girls followed Paolo, and halfway through the morning, Stillman appeared next to Bella. He asked her questions about New York and her family. She tried to quiz him back, but he wouldn’t say much, only that his mother had died when he was young.
“Do you get home often, with Georgia being so far away?” she asked.
“Nah,” Stillman said, “I usually stay in Ann Arbor and work over breaks. What’s to go home for? The preacher—I live with him—just rags at me and makes me do chores if I’m there. We get under each other’s skin, the preacher and I, so I’m better off staying north of the Mason-Dixon line.”
He chuckled. “You know, that was the thing that I wondered about the most before I started college. I’d never met a Yankee, or been north of Atlanta.”
Bella laughed. His polite, Southern manner put her at ease. “The Mason-Dixon line? Obviously, that’s a much bigger deal to you than us Yankees. I hate to admit it, but I’m more sheltered than you—this is my first time out of the five boroughs of New York.”
Sticking close to home might not be the only thing she and Stillman had in common. He never mentioned his father, which made her curious. Had both of their dads abandoned them?
Lunch was a slice of room-temperature pizza and an orange drink from a walk-up counter, and then off they trekked again. As they trailed behind Paolo, Phillip scooted up to claim the spot beside her.
He chatted at length with Hope first, asking about skiing in the Rockies and comparing Rocky Mountain National Park with Yosemite. Bella listened with interest and tried to imagine how those peaks and hiking trails and waterfalls looked. Such a different world from her own.
Bella felt Phillip’s eyes turn to her. She looked him in the eyes and waited for him to speak.
“So you’re a big-city girl.”
Really, she thought? That’s all he could think to say to her? Bella didn’t know why, but his question rubbed her wrong. Surely after the detailed discussion with Hope he thought she was more interesting than merely being a “big-city girl,” whatever that meant.
Her voice came out even more sarcastic than she had intended. “Seven million people? I’d gues
s that qualifies as a big city.”
Phillip threw back his head and laughed. Not at all the reaction she’d expected after her snide remark.
“Seriously, I’ve always wanted to see New York City. Now I actually know someone who lives there.” His voice sounded sincere rather than being a sleazy come-on. “Maybe you could show me around if I came to visit.” He rubbed his palm over her bare biceps.
His touch on her skin sent a shiver that started at her arm and ran across her shoulders and neck.
Then Phillip’s questions began. And not just about the usual sights, but about life in an urban environment. Did she feel safe with so many people around? What did city dwellers do for recreation besides Broadway and restaurants? Did young children play outside after school, and if so, where? Did she ever get out of the city to ski or hike?
She answered his questions and found herself telling him bits and pieces, between Paolo’s walking lectures, about her favorite things in New York.
“Every season has its own charm. In the spring,” Bella said, “Central Park comes alive with blooming trees and flowers. Summer brings the outdoor concerts and loads of street vendors. Autumn is a blaze of color, and, of course, there’s the Thanksgiving Day parade, Rockefeller Center, and Times Square.”
Telling him about it brought a wave of homesickness over Bella. She had to change the focus of the conversation for fear she’d cry. “Did you get a car when you were sixteen?”
Phillip nodded.
Bella quizzed him about it, and how it felt to drive. Wasn’t it terrifying? She admitted to never having driven a car, and after hearing Phillip describe cruising along a beachfront road, for the first time she wished she had.
Hope, on the other hand, boasted of driving a tractor, although with a hearty laugh she said she’d vote for being behind the wheel of a convertible any day.
The afternoon flew by, and Bella wondered why she’d worried. Living together with seven new friends and being in Italy? This had the potential of being the best summer of her life.
Later, after they had washed off the sweat from the day’s heat, they followed Paolo to a nearby ristorante for dinner.
Bella was famished. Inside the restaurant, after stopping to look at a wall of dusty cubbyholes holding equally dusty bottles of wine, she was the last to reach the small room where her group had gathered.
To Bella’s chagrin, Paolo and her male classmates had remained standing, waiting for her to sit down. She saw that Phillip and Stillman had positioned themselves so that should she sit at the logical open chair, they would be on either side of her.
She couldn’t remember why Phillip had struck her as standoffish yesterday; he had chatted with her all afternoon, even buying gelatos for Hope and her .
Smiling at Stillman, then Phillip, Bella slid into the chair between them. A girl has a sense about these things, doesn’t she? They wanted to compete for her attention? Let the games begin.
5
The days settled into a routine for Bella. Espresso with hard rolls and thinly sliced prosciutto or salami for breakfast, then an hour lecture and introduction to the day’s lesson.
Following the classwork, they paraded out to the streets, Phillip and Stillman jockeying to be the one by her side through their stroll.
After the first few days, an easy rhythm developed, and, she thought, a truce between Phillip and Stillman. She loved her laid-back conversations with Hope and Meghan and would walk much of the day arm in arm, like the Italian girls did, with one of them. In the mornings, Stillman flanked Bella’s other side, and in the afternoon, it was Phillip.
Lee had gravitated to Meghan. He clearly had the hots for her, and he walked next to Meghan whenever possible. Lee, like Stillman, was a pre-med student and the most serious of the group. Bella even saw him take notes on their lectures in the museums. Didn’t he understand that a pass-fail class meant you didn’t have to ace it?
One morning, after Bella had ducked into a tabacchi, a tobacconist, where she purchased stamps, Lee cornered her and asked how to send mail home. His mother, he admitted, had demanded that he write to her every day. With a guilty look on his face, Lee told Bella that he hadn’t mailed anything yet and had a stack of letters to send.
Bella grabbed his arm and led Lee back into the store, pointing out the large white “T” on the sign overhead. After he had purchased enough stamps for his unsent letters, Bella showed him the correct slot on a mailbox in which to drop his mail, so—hopefully—his letters wouldn’t end up lost in the Italian postal system.
“I’m close to my mother, too,” Bella said when they stopped for a mid-morning espresso. “Are you the eldest or an only child, like me?”
“First born,” Lee said. “And, unfortunately for me, my mother can lay the guilt on better than anyone. Anyone, that is, except her own mother. We may have that in common, you and I. Don’t Jews and Catholics practically own the rights for laying guilt on their kids?”
Bella chuckled. “That’s normally true. I’m lucky, though. I guess because my mom’s parents disowned her for being an unwed mother, she never got into the “guilt” thing. Your mom’s bad that way? I’m sorry to hear it.”
His voice rose and he shook a finger at Bella, pretending to be his mother. “You must become a doctor. A specialist. Your grandfather, God rest his soul, was a respected surgeon until he died fighting Hitler. You must do this, not only for yourself, but for the family.”
“Your grandfather died in World War II?”
Lee nodded. “He was in the Naval medical corps. Survived Omaha Beach, only to be killed a year later by a bomb.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!”
“My grandmother’s a remarkable woman, but she won’t rest until someone in the family becomes a physician—a specialist with advanced training, of course. My mom thought she had it taken care of when she married my dad.”
Lee’s face flushed. “My dad—he’s a good guy—he went into business. He was pre-med when he married my mom, but then his grades weren’t good enough. I’m next in line, and since I’m smart enough, that’s my future. It’s not an option for me; becoming a doctor is an ironclad obligation to my family.”
Bella put her hand on Lee’s arm. “You’ll be a great doctor. You seem to really care about people. Have you ever thought that even without the pressure from your mother and grandmother, you might have picked medicine?”
“Actually, I’ve asked myself the same question. The answer is no. I’d pick something impractical, like art. But hearing you say I’ll be a good doctor makes me feel better. Thanks.”
Male voices from the piazza halted Bella and Lee’s conversation. Three Italian men, looking only a few years older than they, chattered and peered at something, or someone, behind Lee and Bella. Suddenly, one of the men pushed through the seating area, brushing against Bella and Lee’s table. Bella grabbed the edge to steady it.
The man stopped at the table where Karen and Meghan sat. He leaned over and kissed Karen on the lips, then threw his hands into the air and said, “Fantastico!”
Karen laughed and shooed the man away with her hands. He returned to the piazza, his arms overhead as if he’d won the World Cup, to rejoin his cheering companions.
Despite being practically engaged, Karen flirted with all the guys: the males in their class, the older museum guides, and the coffee shop baristas. It was no wonder the man had kissed her.
Karen had a technique of thrusting out her well-endowed chest while her eyes issued a playful dare. Her flirting was only topped by Rune’s, who hit on all the girls, baited Lee with his audacious remarks, and disappeared during the quiet time. He spent his “study time” either looking for marijuana or finding a spot to make out with the latest Italian girl he’d attracted.
A week after Phillip and Stillman’s “truce” began, Bella dragged herself uphill between Phillip and Hope.
They had crossed the River Arno that morning on a seemingly endless walking tour. After lunch, in spite of th
e increasing heat, Paolo had led them through the Boboli Gardens. Now they faced a long trek back across the river to their hotel, many blocks beyond the Duomo, the Cathedral of Florence. Bella and Hope didn’t have the energy to chat. It had been a long day in the sun.
Bella felt Phillip’s eyes on her. She knew her forehead was damp with perspiration and that her hair frizzed in tight curls around her face—not her best look, by a long shot. She sneaked a glance at him. How could he look so cheerful?
Suddenly, Phillip sprinted up the hill ahead of them. With a broad grin on his face, he flipped upside down into a handstand.
“Woo-hoo.” Hope clapped her hands.
Bella had to laugh. Phillip stayed there, upside down and grinning, until she and Hope stood in front of him.
“Bella,” Phillip said, “I’ll flip for the chance to hold your hand.” With that, he waggled his feet up and down to emphasize his words.
Bella giggled. Phillip could certainly make her laugh. She held out her hand. “I’d rather hold your hand than your foot, but it’s your choice.”
Rune clapped and said, “Good job, man.”
Phillip bent his arms and sprang lightly to his feet. He beamed, brushed his hands off on his jeans, and clutched Bella’s hand. With a hoot, he raised their clasped hands into the air in a victory salute. Their classmates, other than Stillman, cheered his success.
“I’ve never seen that approach,” Bella said to Phillip. Her legs had new energy as they continued up the stone street.
Leaning closer to her, he winked and said, “Oh, I have a lot more tricks up my sleeve.”
And he did. One day, he scaled the outside of a stone wall, finding handholds where none visibly existed; he later explained that he had learned bouldering and climbing skills during summer expeditions to Yosemite.
Bella wasn’t sure if he did these stunts to make her laugh or to highlight his athleticism. Either way, he succeeded.
