by Gail Mencini
Meghan shook her head. “I’d be a distraction, and I love him too much to do anything that would hold him back. Besides,” she added, her somber face breaking into what was almost a smile, “I need to help Karen plan her wedding. We’re going to design all the dresses ourselves, and I’m going to help with the arrangements and planning. She needs me.”
“Right. I guess you do have to do that.”
Meghan looked up, her eyes lit with excitement. “While Karen and Ed are honeymooning, I’m going to be looking for a place to lease for our boutique. Our dad’s giving us some seed money, and Ed’s going to be a partner in the business, too, putting in some of his own money. You see, I have to be where Karen is so we can start our boutique. That’s always been our dream. To open our own shop after college.”
Bella nodded, but she could not imagine breaking up with Phillip. Thank God Phillip was in sync with her and was going to move heaven and earth to be with her. Bella watched as Meghan miraculously tucked the last blouse into the suitcase and closed it with only a gentle push.
Meghan patted the lid of the closed case. “So, I guess you and Phillip are going to try the long-distance romance?”
“He’s going to transfer as soon as he can figure out the money thing. Hopefully, this semester.”
“Lucky you. No, I should say, lucky him.”
Bella and Meghan were the last to tumble into the courtyard, lugging Bella’s suitcase and backpack.
With their chaperone chiding them to deposit their bags by the van and to hurry and line up for a photograph, the group laughed and jostled each other as they complied. Bella hugged each of her friends in turn by the van. She couldn’t imagine not being with them next week or next month. These seven kids were the best friends she’d ever had.
Bella punched Stillman on the shoulder to get his attention as he tucked his suitcase into the back of the van. “Hey, I need a hug from you.”
Stillman turned around. “Nope. You’re rationed. You get one at the airport, and that’s it.” His face was dead serious.
Bella pretended indignation. “After sharing a couchette with me on the train to Paris, you’re rationing me to one flippin’ hug?”
Stillman nodded in the direction of Phillip. “Doesn’t he get all your hugs?”
Bella rested her hand on his forearm. She leaned close, so only he could hear her words. “That’s bullshit. I hug who I want.” Bella wrapped her arms around Stillman. “You’re my friend, and I’m going to miss you like crazy.”
“Friend.” Stillman snorted. “The hot ones always want to be my friend.”
Phillip appeared at Bella’s side, tugging her free hand, pulling her into the line being formed for the picture. Laughing and joking, the group lined up—Phillip, Bella, Stillman, Hope, Lee, Meghan, Karen, and Rune. Summer abroad was officially over.
Phillip held her tight. Bella glanced sideways at him, giddy with the thought that he’d soon meet her mom. She couldn’t wait to be home and see her.
Being so far from her mom this summer had been harder than she’d imagined. It had become even worse when the letters from her mother stopped coming. Bella had shared her worry with Phillip, who had shrugged and chalked it up to the unreliable Italian postal system. For now, Bella pushed away the nagging worry. She’d see her mom in less than a day.
Bella daydreamed about being back home with both her mom and Phillip, all three of them together at the kitchen table. Her family.
15
JFK Airport, New York
Bella twitched with excitement in spite of her exhaustion from being up twenty-four hours straight. Her mother stood somewhere in the waiting area.
“I’ll take off work, honey. I can’t wait to see you.” Her mother’s lyrical voice, her cadence slower than usual, had crackled through the lines during her telephone call two weeks before.
Bella couldn’t get back soon enough. This was the longest she had ever been apart from her mother. Ever since Bella had started college, she and her mother had been best friends, often talking and giggling together late into the night.
Bella blinked at the harsh airport light and breathed deeply to force out the stale airplane air. Her pace, which had been a sprint from the steps of the airplane to the shuttle bus, and then on to the terminal and the lines in U.S. Customs, had turned into a crawl in the waiting area.
Around her, voices chatted in English, not Italian. English meant home. Bella’s eyes danced through the curtain of eager faces waiting for loved ones. Light bounced everywhere; it welcomed her home. Finally.
She skipped forward at the sight of her neighbor, Mrs. Kowalski, but the swarm of passengers slowed her progress. Her eyes searched for her mother as she walked toward Mrs. Kowalski, twenty feet away. Wrinkles framed the woman’s eyes, not just from the passage of time, but also from hours and hours of laughter. Today, though, Mrs. Kowalski’s eyes, accustomed to smiling, seemed clouded with sorrow.
Bella stopped. She felt someone slam into her from behind; hot breath swept the back of her neck, and garbled words marked the person’s sudden redirection.
Bella clawed and swam through the people still blocking her path until she reached Mrs. Kowalski. She could see that red puffiness had turned Mrs. Kowalski’s laugh lines into creases of pain. “Where’s my mom?” The breathless words echoed, too loud, too harsh.
Mrs. Kowalski clutched Bella to her.
Bella couldn’t breathe.
“I’m so sorry, honey.” Mrs. Kowalski’s husky voice against Bella’s ear excluded all other sound. “She got so weak. Your mother went into the hospital a week ago. They found cancer everywhere. I didn’t know how to reach you.”
Bella wrestled away from the fleshy arms. “Where is she?” She tugged on Mrs. Kowalski’s arm. “Let’s go. What hospital is she in?”
Mrs. Kowalski shook her head, and tears wet her eyes. “I’m so sorry. She’s gone.”
Bella stared at her.
Her knees trembled. Voices ping-ponged around her. The lights dimmed ...
Bella’s eyes fluttered open. She was sprawled on the floor. Dirty male toes in Jesus sandals stood a foot from her nose. She remembered. Her eyes squeezed closed. Her cheek pressed against the cold, hard floor. It smelled like dust and lemon industrial cleaner.
Mom.
A few weeks later, Bella sat in a molded chair, back at JFK. The terminal’s vast empty space loomed around her. Even the bright summer colors of passengers’ clothes couldn’t warm the sterile cavern.
The previous few weeks blurred in her mind. Endless paperwork, tears until she could only hack and choke up air, and a swirling fog that circled her every movement and thought. Exhaustion gripped her, even though she had fallen into deep chasms of sleep every night in her mother’s bed. The burn on her left hand caught her eye. She wondered if it would scar, a constant reminder of ironing the dress she had buried her mother in.
She hoped the oppressive fog surrounding her might lift today. Or at least not surround her until she gagged and choked, like it had each of the days since she learned that her mother had died all alone. At the same time, she, the dutiful daughter, had flirted and made love with Phillip in Italy, relishing the idea of introducing him to her mom. She had known that her mother would love Phillip.
She clutched her purse in her lap, the precious letter tucked inside. Bella sighed and pulled out Phillip’s note.
So sorry to miss the funeral ... need to see you ... had a long talk with my parents about transferring out East ... love you ... can’t wait.
I love you.
Phillip
Bella refolded the paper, weak along the fold lines from countless readings.
“Meeting a boyfriend?” a petite woman nearby asked. She wore a stylish black suit and crisp white blouse, with a black-and-white silk flower pinned to her left lapel. Her hair was twirled behind her head in a French twist. The woman smiled.
“Yes.”
“Lucky you. I’m picking up my boss. Fine thing to do o
n a Friday night when you’re single, isn’t it?” The woman moved one seat closer. She extended her hand. “I’m Edie Bernstein. Actually, I’m divorced. I was married seven years to an attorney who liked to jump into bed with his clients. Literally.” Her face lit up with a teeth-exposing grin. “But I know a few sharks in Manhattan legal circles, so I came out just fine, thank you very much.”
Bella couldn’t help but smile. “Bella Rossini. Nice to meet you. Sorry about the ruined Friday night.”
Edie leaned closer and lowered her voice. “My boss hates airport shuttles, and the company won’t approve a limo. I volunteered to pick him up.” She flashed another toothy grin and winked. “I got my husband’s Cadillac in the divorce.”
Edie snapped open her slim leather briefcase and exposed a pad of paper, a silver card case, and a clutch purse. As she extracted a business card from the card case, she used only the pads of her fingers; her manicured fingernails glistened.
She handed the card to Bella. “Editorial assistant. I’ll be a full-fledged editor before the year’s out, with my own author clients. A huge promotion up from gofer, don’t you think? At twenty-nine, a girl in the city has to scramble to get ahead. So you donate your Friday nights to airport runs in exchange for a promotion.” She winked again. “A hell of a lot better than fucking him, I say.”
“Amen.” Bella smiled. “My boyfriend’s going to transfer out here. Or at least he hopes to. He’s got interviews with three schools.”
The public address announcer’s garbled words prevented Edie from replying. Bella and Edie stood and edged toward the gate door being opened by two blue-uniformed women.
A balding, rotund man exited the gate third. Edie raised her left hand and waved. It was her boss, apparently. A fixed professional smile had lodged on Edie’s face. She moved behind a pillar toward the spot where her boss would enter the waiting area. Edie half-turned to call back to Bella. “Nice meeting you. Remember to come up for air this weekend, Bella.” Another wink and Edie and her boss disappeared into the crowd.
Bella turned back to study the faces of the people arriving. She rocked up on her toes and found herself smiling at all the exiting passengers.
A thin, tired-looking man with wire-rimmed glasses appeared in the door. With a suitcase in one hand, a diaper bag slung over his shoulder, and an unusual, folded-up stroller in the other hand, he spanned the width of the doorway. Ten seconds later, a woman, obviously his wife, walked out, a toddler holding one of her hands and a tiny baby cradled in her other arm.
No wonder he’s tired, Bella thought.
After the mother, one, two, and then a third flight attendant exited the gate.
Bella watched the uniformed woman at the door speak into a walkie-talkie. The gate attendant closed the door.
Bella’s face turned cold, her smile frozen in place.
“Bella Rossini?”
The male voice behind Bella made her spin around.
Bella nodded.
A man in his forties handed Bella an envelope. He wore a gray, short-sleeved shirt and matching shorts. The words “Airport Courier” and his name, Walt Smiley, were embroidered on his left chest pocket. He nodded at Bella, then turned and hurried away as if he had just punched out for the weekend.
Bella lowered her head and studied the envelope. She took a deep breath, then opened it. Inside was a piece of paper with a short typed message on it. Key words jumped out.
Didn’t mean to deceive.
Engaged.
Planned to break up.
Business considerations.
Her father ... great opportunity.
Bella read the page twice. The typewriter’s “e” character had a flaw in the top curve, so every “e” had a break in it. She thought it odd that she noticed the broken curve, but then, why wouldn’t she notice? Every word, every letter, burned into her mind.
Forgive me.
Phillip’s name was typed at the bottom, one space below his closing lie. The biggest lie of all.
I’ll always love you.
Bella folded the page into thirds, the same as the letter in her purse. She creased the folds twice with her fingertips. She pulled Phillip’s hand-scrawled letter out of her purse and folded the new, typed missive inside it. Bella pressed her eyes closed, to stop the stinging tears. She felt hot, stale air on her face. When she dared to open her eyes, she tucked the letters into the bottom of her purse.
Bella lifted her chin, swiped her wet cheek with the back of her hand, and swept her hair over her shoulders. Her eyes scanned the terminal filled with strangers.
She, and she alone, would have to cope and somehow survive. But how?
16
Ann Arbor, Michigan
Lee sat inside the Blue Coffee House with a half-drunk cup of cold coffee. The swarm of students around him had one topic of discussion—the upcoming annual Michigan football game against their archrival, Ohio State University. This year, Lee had no time for football. Having grown used to strong espresso during his summer in Florence, the University coffee tasted weak in comparison. The only good thing about this coffee was the caffeine.
A letter from his mother had arrived this morning. They never changed. The standard letter consisted of three parts.
First, study hard or he wouldn’t get into med school. For as long as Lee could remember, his mother and grandmother demanded that he become a physician.
Second, Lee must learn how to be at the top of his class now, so that he would excel later in med school. Following med school, his mother would remind him, Lee must secure an internship, and then a residency in one of the specialties. Cardiology. Plastic surgery. Anesthesiology. Something that garnered prestige and a high paycheck, restoring the family to their rightful position, which had been lost with his grandfather’s death in World War II.
His mother’s last demand? Write to her more frequently.
Lee concentrated on the Organic Chemistry text open before him. With practiced effort, he tuned out the chatter and laughter around him. Not his ideal study location, but this was where Stillman had suggested they meet. A clap on his back startled Lee; his glasses slipped down his nose with the sudden motion.
Stillman dropped his books on the round table, jostling Lee’s cup. He slid into a chair. “Hey, dude. How’s it going?”
“Shitty. My deadbeat lab partner dropped. Of course, he could have bailed before he’d taken on half the responsibility for our labs.”
Stillman shook his head. “Tough break, man. So did you get his work before he rode off into the sunset?”
Lee’s disgusted look answered the question. “Zip. Nothing but piss and promises.”
“That sucks. You know, it freaks us out now, but someday we’ll be living the life of rich doctors driving fancy cars, and O Chem will be ancient history.” Stillman leaned back in his chair and eyed the large-chested co-ed at the counter. “Have you talked to Meghan since the summer?”
Lee looked away. “Nah. You know, MCATs this year, plus this friggin’ organic.” He shrugged. “I miss her, though. Who knows? Maybe I’ll call her.”
Stillman, motionless, seemed to be studying Lee as if he were an alien to be wary of.
“How ’bout you? Have you talked to anybody? You were pretty tight with Bella.” He was fishing.
Stillman pursed his lips and gave one decisive shake of his head. “Not really.”
“But I thought for sure you two did it before she and Phillip became an item. I remember you guys burning the midnight oil at least once or twice alone together. Plus, of course, the train.” Lee leered at him. He remembered how Bella and Karen had shared berths with Stillman and Rune out of fear of their Middle Eastern couchette-mates. “Those couchettes were something, weren’t they?”
“I haven’t spoken to her since we left Italy.” Stillman’s thumb rubbed the binding of his organic book. “She and Phillip were going to keep dating in the States.”
“Really? I never caught that.”
“Gue
ss it was hard to see anything beyond Meghan’s tits.” Stillman chuckled.
Lee wanted to snap back. He cared about Meghan. He really did. It just wasn’t their time. Not with MCATs and then med school applications looming. But he knew Stillman spoke the truth. During those last weeks, his world had consisted of Meghan and Florence, two beauties he had hated to leave. He grinned. “Guess I’m guilty.”
Stillman straightened his stack of books on the table, as meticulously as if he were being graded on it. Expressionless, he looked up and his eyes caught Lee’s. “What’re you going to do about the labs? The final project with all the lab results from the semester is worth thirty percent.”
Lee’s posture stiffened. “Can I tag with you and your partner? I’ve lost some ground but I’ll do most of the work from wherever you are if you’ll share data with me. There’s no way I can start from scratch and finish in time. How ’bout it?”
Stillman pursed his lips and leaned back, the perfect study of contemplation. “Nah.”
Stillman collected his books and pushed away from the table. “I’m sorry. You know I’d do it, but it won’t fly with my partner. Every one of us is competing for the top grade and those coveted med school slots. He won’t share. He’s paranoid about the competition for grades. I don’t even trust him to give me the full analyses. I use his data and write my own.”
He clapped the back of Lee’s shoulder again. “Hey, good luck, man. I wish I could help you. You have natural luck with the ladies. Maybe one of them will share their labs.”
Without a word, Lee watched Stillman duck through the crowd of wind-chapped faces that entered the coffee shop.
Three weeks later, finals loomed as if they were a phantom lurking around the campus. The campus pubs, normally overflowing at night, were as empty as ghost towns. Only a handful of fraternities hadn’t broken stride in their social schedule.
