On cue, the band began to play Frank Sinatra—“I’ve Got You Under My Skin”—and I gulped in a breath and prayed I wouldn’t trip in my heels. With a firm grip, the waiter led me across the floor, slowly at first when I shifted my feet wrong or stumbled slightly, then faster as I began to get the feel of it. When I struggled for control, I messed up because I began overthinking, and as I became more adept at allowing him to guide me, our movements became smoother. I felt as if we were locked into a frame at the top and let loose at the bottom. Most of the dance was too stressful because I was worried, but toward the end of the song, I realized I’d relaxed and actually began enjoying the way my feet were able to match his steps and the graceful glide of movement when I just let go.
Finally, he stopped, took my hand, and led me back to my table.
He stopped at my seat and bowed. “Thank you for the dance, signorina. It was a pleasure.”
My skin felt flushed, but a bubble of pleasure fizzled in my veins. It was like a natural high. “Grazie,” I said, unable to think of something else cleverer.
He winked. “Prego.”
With a lingering look at my grandmother, he disappeared. I slid into my chair and tried to act cool, but my mother leaned across the table. “Allegra, you looked amazing out there! I had no idea you could dance like that.”
“He’s too old for you, dear, but now you know what real romance is,” my grandmother added. “That’s what you deserve.”
Mom’s eyes flickered with longing. “Don’t we all,” she murmured.
I tried to brush it off, but everyone at the table was smiling, and I was suddenly struck by a strange joy and grief that twisted within me. I’d never experience a dance with my father, or him walking me down the aisle at my wedding. My kids would have no Pop Pop. I’d never had a chance to love a father because Mom had taken the option away. And, yes, it was probably selfish, because there were never guarantees of getting a decent dad, but I felt strangely bereft, as if the emptiness that was always inside me needing to be filled would never be satisfied. I’d never have a father who’d share in all my firsts, so it’d been with a waiter who was kind, but a stranger.
I excused myself to the bathroom. I desperately needed a few moments alone to process.
This trip was bringing up things I rarely let myself think of, but I had a premonition more was to come.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Francesca
The iconic Colosseum rose before me with an arrogance and power that stole my breath. The broken stone and rubbled pathways only added to the mighty glory of a structure that had once been witness to bloody battles, destruction, and death.
The only thing that ruined the experience was the group of fake gladiators lingering around the entrance, urging tourists to take pictures with them. They were the same kind of people as those in Times Square who dressed in tattered Elmo and Batman costumes, luring children to pose with them, only to spring the fee of a ten-dollar bill for the privilege. Enzo waved them away when they approached, but Kai begged for a picture.
Hana and I sighed in motherly commiseration, and I didn’t blame her for surrendering. The boy practically shook with excitement as he squeezed in the middle of the fake gladiators and raised two skinny biceps, growling at the camera. Allegra laughed, but we all agreed sometimes you just needed to be a patsy and give in. It was probably worth the ten euros for his joy.
Enzo passed us off to a new tour guide, and we snaked through corridors, which offered brief shade in the choking heat. It was only ten a.m. and my T-shirt was damp with perspiration. When we stepped out into the main center and gazed at the floor that had contained the slaves and lions, a shiver bumped down my spine. The stands would have held only men, rabid for the blood sport of watching men fight for their lives in front of thousands of screaming fans. The soft blue sky and fluffy clouds seemed to mock the past savagery they cloaked from above.
Like my experience in the Vatican, everything was larger in scope and power than I’d imagined, dragging me down into history I’d never experienced before. It struck me again how young America was and how Europe must look at us sometimes—these fierce babes in the woods who believed we were always right even though time had not truly tested our power.
Not yet.
We spent the morning touring the Pantheon, and around lunchtime, the group split up. The three of us decided to roam around the city for our last day in Rome and be off the clock. We sat at a café and sipped cold, fruity Pinot Grigio, splitting a pizza, salad, and a plate of fresh pears and nutty Parmesan drizzled with raw honey.
“Enzo said we’ll be visiting a family farm where they make fresh mozzarella,” Allegra said, guzzling her soda.
“What do you think of the tour so far?” I asked them. “Aren’t you glad we went with the smaller one with more customized outings?”
“It’s only our third day, Mom,” Allegra pointed out. “But, yeah, I like our group and Enzo. I was afraid they’d make us do a whole bunch of stuff we didn’t want to.”
“Many tours get kickbacks from the vendors they promise to visit,” I said.
Mom mopped her forehead with a napkin. “The only thing I’m regretting is coming in the summer. I had no idea it was this hot.”
“Drink water, less wine,” I said, pushing away the glass that still held a few more swallows. “We can go back to the room and nap for a bit if you need to.”
She snorted. “No way. I’m not missing Rome for a nap. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
I smiled at her familiar saying and a memory sparked. “Remember when Allegra was little and she begged you to take her to the water park?”
“You had to bring that up?”
Allegra glanced back and forth at us. “What happened? I’ve never heard this story.”
“I took you to the Little Squirts Water Park to spend an afternoon and keep us both busy,” Mom said. “I had no idea those places were like the Lord of the Flies. Kids running and screaming, water fountains blasting out everywhere, and crazy climbing mazes. I lost you within a few minutes and was terrified you’d get hurt. Besides injuries every half hour, all the moms were gathered around the tiki bar drinking.”
“Tell her the best part,” I urged.
“You had gotten yourself tangled in this rope maze at the top of the slide and couldn’t get out. You were screaming and crying for me, so I had to climb the obstacle course to get you out.”
A helpless giggle rose from my lips. “Poor Mom got to the top and freed you, but she couldn’t climb back down because of the line of kids behind her.”
“They were pushing and blocking me from retreat,” Mom said, shaking her head. “I tried to get past them but they were like little monsters. I cried out for one of the moms to help me, but they didn’t hear.”
“No way,” Allegra breathed. “Did you get down?”
“Sure, but not the way I wanted. I got pushed down the waterslide. The biggest one in the park. I ended up in a pool of water in my clothes because I hadn’t worn a bathing suit. I figured I could just watch you without getting wet.”
Allegra gasped. “Where were the supervisors? Didn’t they have any?”
“Let’s just say no one cared to help. When I landed in the pool, one of them informed me I was too old to go down the slide and to please obey the posted rules next time.”
We all burst into laughter. “I never took you to a water park again,” Mom declared. “And I still blame your mother. She never warned me it was a terrible idea.”
“Yes, I did! I said I’d take her on the weekend and not to give in to her begging.”
“Honey, if we had waited, Allegra would never have gone. You worked that weekend again, remember?”
I jerked back at the barb. An awkward silence fell, and Mom cleared her throat, obviously regretting her words. “That’s right. I remember now,” I said coldly. No
thing like my own mother trying to shame me.
She tried to make peace, but we all knew it was too late. “It was a busy time. You were still building your company and we understood.”
Allegra dropped her gaze and concentrated on her pizza.
On cue, my phone buzzed. I glanced at it quickly and read the long text regarding feedback results from the test group and asking for approval on the new print ad. I didn’t have to do it. I’d asked to be notified of everything and Kate had agreed to loop me in. Pretending not to stress, I casually tucked my phone back into my purse and decided I’d sneak some work in later. I’d be able to fit it in with the time change.
I drained my wine and motioned for the check. Some things were universal. “Where should we head to? I mapped out all of the plazas we haven’t visited, the last two fountains, and highlighted some highly rated monuments from TripAdvisor.”
Mom and Allegra shared a glance. “Let’s get lost,” Allegra said.
“What do you mean lost? We have phones now and maps that talk to us block by block. We don’t have to get lost like in the old days.”
Allegra shrugged. “I guess I just want to start walking and see where we end up. It’d be nice to be surprised rather than stick to the textbook.”
“Agreed,” my mother said.
I nibbled my lip. I preferred planning to chaos. Getting lost just wasn’t done anymore, because it was avoidable. But I wanted to indulge them and this was something I could manage. “If that’s what you want, I’m in.”
“No phones,” Allegra warned. “We need to figure things out by ourselves.”
“Not even Google Translate?” I asked. I was addicted to technology and not too proud to admit it. “Or a text to Enzo?”
“Nothing. Let’s see what happens,” Allegra said.
Mom nodded, and I was outvoted. I paid the bill, and we picked a street and set out on foot for an adventure.
It took me a while to settle in and begin to enjoy the sights without worry. We headed over the bridge, crossing the Tiber River, not sure what we’d find. As we navigated narrow cobblestone streets, I was struck by the endless rows of buildings in rich, earthy colors, covered with bright green winding ivy. Wrought-iron balconies spilled over the square filled with pots of red, yellow, and pink geraniums. Savory and sweet scents of bread and sugar drifted in the air, teasing our nostrils. We passed cafés where people lounged at small tables, smoking and drinking aperitifs, and listened to the chatter of lyrical Italian float in the air. Mom bought a leather wallet, and I picked up a bright red Pinocchio ornament with moving legs for our Christmas tree. We guzzled bottled water to combat the heat as the baked pavement seeped right into our flimsy sandals.
“This is so cute,” Mom said, her head craning back and forth to take it all in. “Don’t you wish we could sell everything and live here?”
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” Allegra said.
We looked at each other. “Really? You preferred going cross-country in a dilapidated RV with some half-baked musician. How would you deal with simplifying your life to this extent?”
“He’s not half-baked,” she replied hotly. “He’s got a lot of talent and needs to go out there to share his gift.”
“As long as he doesn’t share his weed.”
She blew out an annoyed breath. “You have no idea what would make me happy. I bet I’d do well here with less stress and more focus on living.”
“You’re eighteen. You need to live big first before you decide to settle down to the simple life, don’t you think?”
“My big isn’t your big, Mom. It never was.”
My mother got in between us and clucked her tongue. “My question was supposed to be fun and hypothetical. No more fighting. Both of you would thrive anywhere because you have strong cores and stubborn determination. Discussion over. Oh, look, a bakery! Let’s get some goodies to go.”
We followed her into a small shop with assorted baked breads and pastries in the display case. I couldn’t afford any further carbs today, so I got an iced coffee and watched Mom and Allegra nibble on mini éclairs and biscotti. As we ventured further into the town, we stumbled upon a gorgeous basilica that dominated a plaza and marveled over the opulent gilded interior, which reminded me of a mosque. We found a beautiful park and sat on benches while we breathed in the lush scent of the plants surrounding us on all sides. Time stretched and flew by until we finally glanced at our watches and realized the late hour.
“Better head back toward the hotel,” I said, glancing around. We’d wandered past the main squares into a quieter place that was more isolated. “We need to change and get ready for dinner.”
I reached for my phone but Allegra stopped me. “No tech, remember?”
“That’s silly. I have no idea where we are.”
“Oh, we can figure it out,” my mother said, waving her hand in the air. “Let’s try this way.”
I tamped down a sigh. “Okay, but my feet are starting to kill me.”
We took a right and followed a few zigzagging streets that seemed to lead us nowhere. Now there were few people and no restaurants or shops. As we trudged along, my skin felt burnt, sweat dampened my clothes, and blisters were forming on my feet. I began to curse under my breath.
“We’re lost,” I announced. “And this isn’t fun.”
“Now who’s a complainer?” Allegra taunted. She was known to be a tad of a whiner when things didn’t go her way. I hadn’t imagined she got it from me. “Nonni’s still doing fine.”
My mother shrugged. “I told you those Jane Fonda DVDs helped.”
This time, I led and headed left. We crested hills, crossed streets, and finally came to an empty square with a few benches. In the distance, a trash can held a raging fire, and two elderly ladies were crowded round the can, looking like they were discussing the latest episode of their favorite show.
“Let’s sit down and I’ll bring up a map. I want to be found now.”
Allegra didn’t protest this time, so I knew she was done too. I grabbed my phone and opened the app, tapping a few buttons to get our home location.
“Um, Mom? Those ladies are staring at us.”
I turned my head. She was right. They seemed transfixed on us and bent their heads together, pointing wildly. Terrific. I figured they wouldn’t be a great source for directions. “Just ignore them, honey. This will take a minute.”
I got a home signal and zeroed in on our location.
“Frannie, they’re coming over here,” Mom hissed.
The two women began to march forward, and I realized they were carrying two large sticks in their hands. Holy crap, what was going on? Even in New York City the homeless left you mostly alone. Were they looking for money?
“Let’s go, guys. I’m sure they’ll back off.”
We rose from the bench and began easing away, but the ladies let out an angry tirade of Italian. As they moved closer, I noticed their dirty clothing, mismatched shoes, and bedraggled hair. But it was their faces that scared the hell out of me. They were pinched in rage.
“Uh, scusi, mi dispiace, we go. We go,” I muttered. Allegra called out a phrase in Italian I didn’t recognize, and I grabbed her hand and Mom’s, ready to flee. “We go.”
They attacked.
Holding the sticks up high, they raced the next couple of feet, as if we’d done something terrible and they were bent on revenge. I gave a shriek and held tight to Mom’s and Allegra’s hands, and we ran out of the square as fast we could, our feet pounding on the pavement, heading toward the road we’d passed beforehand.
After a full block, I realized they hadn’t followed, and we slowed down to catch our breath. “Are you okay? Mom?”
“I’m fine. What did we do? Oh my goodness, they were mad! Those were the first not-nice people we’ve met here.”
“Do
you think they would have hit us?” Allegra asked in shock.
“No, but I’m guessing the bench was their property and we weren’t supposed to sit there,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Allegra was ahead of me, her fingers flying over her phone. “Screw this, we’re getting an Uber, Mom.”
“Good idea.”
In a matter of ten minutes, we’d made our way to the curb of some street and saw the magic minicar pull up. We squeezed in and I worshipped the age of technology as the driver drove us directly back to our hotel without worry of translation of language or transfer of cash. It was a beautiful thing.
“We’re not cursed or something, are we?” Allegra asked. “You fell down the steps, and now we get attacked.”
“There’s no such thing as a curse. This is what happens when you get lost. Anyway, you wanted an adventure. Guess we got it.”
By the time we stumbled back to safety, the exhaustion of the day had set in, along with a deep satisfaction. I had forgotten the ups and downs that could occur after spending a day with my family. And, yes, we’d annoyed one another, but we ended up sharing an experience we’d be able to laugh at in the days to come. I was just sifting through the realization that this trip had been a good idea after all, when my daughter let out a gasp of shock and stopped still in the lobby. Her gaze was trained on her phone.
“Oh my God.”
My heart stopped. “What is it? Did someone you know die?”
She slowly shook her head, eyes wide. “Something tells me you’re not going to like technology anymore, Mom.”
A strange foreboding washed over me. “What are you talking about? What are you looking at?”
My mother leaned over to peek at her phone. Her hand flew to her mouth. “You taped your mother falling down the stairs?”
“No! But someone must’ve, and then they uploaded it and—” She trailed off, biting her lip. Her features screwed up with worry. “It went kind of viral.”
A roaring in my ears registered. I stretched out my trembling hand and she placed the phone in my palm. It was opened to Instagram.
Our Italian Summer Page 15
