What Happens Abroad (2 page)

The buildings around me were three and four stories high, and they curved darkly over the narrow street, encasing me in a strange, quiet tunnel.
Where were all the tourists?

I spilled into the blinding sunlight abruptly, and I stared around, dazed. The narrow street had led me to a sprawling piazza, filled with pigeons and people milling around. I turned in a slow circle, trying to take in all the sights at once, and then I spotted the imposing white-and-green-striped Duomo. Scaffolding covered two-thirds of the building, but the reddish dome peeked up over it, looking imperious and, I realized with a strangled giggle, like a really pointy breast.

I felt a gentle tug on my bag, and I looked around, confused. A dark-haired girl in a wild, multicolored skirt was standing a few feet away from me, staring at me intently, but there wasn't anyone close enough to have jostled into me. Frowning, I tightened the strap on my shoulder bag and draped one arm casually over it. I glanced back at the girl, but she had turned away. Still, I felt a prickly sensation on the back of my neck, and I hurriedly resolved not to get so wrapped up in the architecture anymore. Before I'd left for my trip, my roommate, Shauna, had specifically warned me to be careful of pickpockets in Italy, and the girl who'd been watching me reminded me of Shauna's warning.

Gripping my bag, I walked across the piazza toward the Duomo. Even covered in scaffolding, it was magnificent, but I didn't feel the same enchantment I'd felt when I saw Notre Dame for the first time. Still, I dodged around small groups of tourists to get a closer look.

A guy who looked like he belonged in one of the Godfather movies—crisp gray suit, polished leather shoes, olive skin, and rakish dark hair—whistled and waved something at me. I looked over, and I realized that Mafia man was just a street hawker, selling small Italian flags. I grinned at the image, and he smiled back at me with a dazzling display of white teeth.

“For you,
bella
!” He called out.

I shook my head. “No, thank you, er,
grazie
.”

He grinned wider. “But you must!”

Although I'd started to get annoyed by the way guys came on to me in Paris, there was something charming about the flag guy, and even though I had no reason to buy an Italian flag, I found myself crossing the cobblestones to him. “How much?”

He grinned mischievously, pulling the flag out of reach. “For the flag, or for me?”

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. “The flag.”

“Five euro.”

That seemed a bit much. “What about two?”

“I'll give you two flags for five, if you'll give me a kiss!”

I laughed and started to walk away. “No, thanks!”

“You don't want to make a deal?”

I shook my head, ignoring his protests, and wandered away. I thought I heard him holler, “
Ciao
, sweet bella,” after I'd left, but I couldn't be sure. I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. It was like I had a whole new attitude here in Florence; maybe I had just needed to get away from Paris to really be able to enjoy my trip. My thoughts flitted to Hunter, but I firmly pulled my mind away, focusing instead on the gorgeous striped marble building in front of me.

I suppressed a giggle; it really did look like a giant breast temple, but besides that, the building was different from anything I'd ever seen. I racked my mind, searching for forgotten facts from my freshman year art history class, and I remembered that the doors were special for some reason.

I rounded the edge of the huge building, and I caught a flicker of red out of the corner of my eye. I glanced over my shoulder, and I saw the girl who'd been staring at me earlier moving unobtrusively through the crowd. I stopped and watched her carefully, and I almost swore I saw her lift a guy's wallet right out of his back pocket, but she moved so fast I couldn't be sure. Clutching my bag tighter, I felt around inside. For a panicked moment, I didn't feel my wallet, but then my fingers closed around the familiar faux leather and I sighed in relief. Still, I kept my eye on the girl. It wouldn't do me any good to get robbed on my first day in Florence!

A side door into the Duomo was open, despite the scaffolding around it, and acting on impulse, I slipped into the cool darkness. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the space; whereas Notre Dame had the beautiful stained glass windows to fill the place with light, the only windows in the Duomo were clustered around the base of that massive dome, making it dark and eerie inside. I almost felt like I'd walked into a crypt instead of a church, and I shivered.

Gradually, my eyes got used to the darkness, and I realized that this space was as impressive as Notre Dame in an entirely different way. The polished marble floor was almost reflective under my feet, and the round dome threw voices from across the church around in ghostly echoes, making me feel like I was surrounded even though I had been alone when I stepped into the church.

I wandered slowly around the space, snapping pictures with my camera, but my heart just wasn't in it. Maybe it was the chill inside the Duomo, or maybe it was the darkness, but the bright, happy energy I'd been feeling outside was quickly being replaced by gloomy melancholy. I spotted a door and slipped out of the church, hoping some time back in the sunshine would fix my mood.

I exited on a different side than I'd entered; there wasn't any scaffolding out here. I stepped away from the shadow of the church, aiming purposefully back the direction I had first wandered that morning, but I paused. I hadn't noticed how many narrow little streets fed into the large piazza, and I wasn't entirely sure which one would take me back to our apartment. Glancing at the sun overhead, I swallowed my panic. It probably wasn't even noon yet; I had plenty of time to find my way back before Joelle and Sarah would be there, waiting to be let in.

~

God, I was so screwed.

I'd been wandering away from the Duomo for what felt like hours, but the first three little streets I tried weren't familiar at all. Finally, I stopped for lunch at a pizzeria and dug my guidebook out of my bag. I flipped the book open to the map, and I tried to figure out where our apartment was. We could see the Duomo from the windows, but I realized that as big as the thing was, lots of places probably had a similar view, and I'd been so exhausted yesterday that I hadn't thought to find out the name of our street. Sighing, I took a bite of my pizza.

It was crunchy and flat, heavy on the tomatoes and light on the cheese, but I was too hungry to complain. I remembered that Shauna had warned me that pizza in Italy was very different from the pizza I was used to in the States, but at the time, I hadn't paid her much attention. Still, it was food, and as I chewed and tried to puzzle out my map, I decided that I sort of liked it.

Finally, I thought I had a pretty good idea which direction would take me back toward our apartment, and I finished my pizza and started walking again. I figured I could always use elimination, too, just going street by street and doubling back to the Duomo if things didn't look familiar. Besides, I'd managed okay on my own in Paris, and I headed into the street with renewed confidence.

How long could it take me, really?

When I finally found my way, I stopped in the little corner store on the same side street as our apartment and grabbed a box of spaghetti. Mercifully, the store sold jars of pasta sauce, and I bought one of those, too, and a loaf of fresh bread. It wasn't going to be a fancy dinner, I reasoned, but at least it was food. Maybe when I had more time to plan I'd cook something that required a little effort, but right now, I was exhausted and annoyed.

Joelle and Sarah were sitting on top of the stairs when I made it up to our floor (I'd forgotten about the elevator until I was already halfway up, and I didn't want to risk going down and dropping my shopping bags), and they hopped up when I came huffing and puffing around the corner.

“What took so long?” Joelle admonished as she took the groceries from me.

“I got lost,” I admitted.

Sarah smiled gently. “We got lost a couple of times, too.”

“Yeah, but it looks like you still beat me back.”

Joelle frowned thoughtfully. “I'll be right back.” She handed Sarah the groceries.

Sarah glanced at her, confused. “Where are you going?”

Before I could say anything, Joelle darted down the stairs. I sighed. “Let's get inside.”

It took three tries to get the key to turn in the lock, but finally, we stepped into our apartment. It was like walking into an oven. “
Gah!
Why is it so hot in here?”

Sarah set the bag down on the table. “I have no idea. The windows are open; why isn't the breeze helping?”

I stopped and stared at the windows. “God, Sarah, you don't think that's it, do you?”

She looked around, confused. “What?”

“All those shutters; I thought it was just quaint. What if we're supposed to keep the place closed up during the day as some sort of air-conditioning?”

Sarah considered my idea. “It
was
nice and cool when we got here,” she finally admitted.

“Do you think it'll do any good if we close the windows now?”

She shrugged. “It couldn't hurt. I'll close up if you want to start dinner.”

Right. Dinner
. I sighed heavily.

“But still, this is so much better than staying in a hostel, right?”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

Rooting around in the kitchen, I found a pot to cook the pasta in, but there didn't seem to be any kind of saucepan, so I decided I'd just simmer the sauce in the same pot after I'd strained the water.

I managed to burn my wrist when I dropped the spaghetti into the boiling water, and some of the sauce got stuck to the bottom of the pan in a nasty, gloppy mess, but at least we had food. Sarah offered to slice the bread, and she dug around in the cupboards until she came up with a box of salt and a bottle of olive oil.

“For dipping,” she assured me, carrying the bread and oil into the next room. She grabbed a stack of plates and set the table without waiting for me to ask her, and her quiet efficiency started soothing my ridiculous mood. At least I was in Italy, not moping around back at home or something. I shuddered; if I were home and Mom found out about my lies about the scholarship and this trip, she probably would have insisted I start working full-time at the salon immediately. I so wasn't ready to spend my life like that.

Joelle came back in, grinning and carrying a big brown paper bag. “For dessert!” she called triumphantly, carrying it into the dining room. I waved at her from the kitchen; the pasta was almost ready. Finally, I found a big ceramic serving dish and dumped the noodles and sauce into it.

Grabbing a pair of salad forks from the drawer beside the stove, I carried it triumphantly into the dining room.

It almost looked like a scene from a movie; Sarah had left two windows open, and the pink-tinged skyline winked at us as the lights of Florence started to come to life. The table was set with pretty pottery, and Sarah had arranged the bread almost artfully on the cutting board. Joelle's contribution turned out to be a plate of delicate custard and chocolate pastries and a huge bottle of Chianti.

They applauded when I set the spaghetti down, and I laughed, my bad mood forgotten. “Sorry it's not fancier!”

Joelle scooped herself a big portion of spaghetti. “Are you kidding? It's our first dinner in Florence. That's fancy enough!”

Sarah grinned. “It's perfect.”

When Joelle uncorked the wine bottle, I started to shake my head, but then I shrugged. “Only a little.”

She nodded. “Much better to drink at home than out in a club.”

Sarah flushed, and I looked at my two companions. “That sounds like a story,” I began slowly.

Joelle chuckled. “Probably more than one!” She lifted her glass into the air. “Here's to Florence!”

We all clinked, giggling a little at the serious gesture.

“So,” I began, winding pasta around my fork, “what did you guys end up doing today?”

“We went shopping,” Sarah spoke around a mouthful of bread. “There's a pretty cool market nearby.”

Joelle nodded, inhaling her food. “Leather, jewelry, all kinds of great stuff. You should come with us tomorrow.”

I grinned. “I think that's a good idea. Maybe I won't get lost then!”

“Safety in numbers! Right, Sarah?” Joelle said, and smiled.

Sarah took a sip of her wine. “As long as there aren't any boys.”

Joelle sighed. “You
will
get over him eventually.”

Sarah and I had talked a little bit about the guy she'd met, but I didn't know a lot of the details. “So what happened?”

She bit her lip. “Basically, I accused him of robbing me and kicked him out.”

I sat back in my chair, stunned. “Seriously? Good for you!”

She shook her head. “But then I found the money that was missing once he was gone.”

Joelle refilled our wineglasses. “We all make mistakes, sweetie, and maybe that mistake just meant that he wasn't the right one for you.”

I thought back to Hunter. “Some mistakes are hard to let go of.” I took another sip of my wine. It was tangy and sharp and perfect with the spaghetti, although we'd polished off most of the food and were just left with the pastries.

Sarah squeezed my hand. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

I shrugged. “I got drunk, lost my virginity to a stranger, and then threw up in front of him. Not the best set of choices I've ever made!”

Joelle drained her glass. “That's nothing. At least you didn't get trashed and make out with a girl at your brother's wedding.”

Sarah and I stared at her, openmouthed. “Seriously?”