Ordinary World (13 page)

“Si, si. Grazie,” I said.

Then I changed my mind. “No, no. Sona cercando Ecco Roma,” I said slowly.

“Ahhh,” she said. She started to rattle off directions, speaking much more rapidly, but I put my hand up.

“Uno momento, uno momento” I beckoned, using an inflection that suddenly reminded me of my grandmother. “I
really
need to use the bathroom.”

She offered to wait. I turned the corner, trying to remember her directions, and found two doors opposite each other. Each was marked in faded letters, but I couldn’t make out the words. I opened the one on the left and walked in, mortified to find a row of urinals and a man standing in front of one. You’d think that growing up with two brothers, I would’ve walked in on one of them at least once, but no. I’d never even seen actual urinals. I gasped and apologized in English, but in the nanosecond before I turned away, I caught a glimpse of the man who snapped his head around, holding his fly in panic. And then I gasped again.

“Oh my God—Devin!”

“Andi?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What are
you
doing here?”

“I’m lost.”

“I’ll say.”

I ran out of the bathroom. He called out, “Wait!” I heard the tap of running water. Seconds later, Devin rushed out, drying his hands on his shirt. He looked at me, slightly out of breath, and smiled.

“Andi!” He just stood there and gawked at me. “I can’t believe it!”

I didn’t know what to say or do.

“Devin,” I said.

“David,” he corrected.

“I’m sorry—
David
.”

I shook my head to snap myself out of my daze. Neither of us moved. Then he hugged me, and I stiffened. He let go and gave me another once-over; the expression on his face turned from one of delight to slight confusion.

“Nice outfit,” he said with uncertainty. I looked down at my apparel of jeans and Sam’s Patriots football jersey and my face turned the same red as the logo. “You couldn’t find a soccer jersey that fit, at least?”

At that moment, the woman who offered to give me directions approached us. When she saw Devin—David, she said, “Ah, you find you lover,” in broken English. He smiled at her, flashing those alluring sienna eyes and winking. She transformed into a teenager, twinkling her eyes and batting her lashes in return. It never ceased to amaze me to see the effect he had on women, that all it took was one coy little wink. He said something to her in fluent Italian, and she turned and left, wishing me a good evening. I thanked her one last time.

He turned to me. “You lost?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you staying?”

I told him.

“Ah, I know where that is. C’mon, I’ll take you. You’re not that far off, actually.”

Dusk quickly set in as we walked through the streets together.

“Where’s your husband?” he asked.

I couldn’t open my mouth; just looked straight ahead and kept walking.

“Andi?” he asked.

“He’s not here,” I managed to spit out.

“Okay,” he said. He didn’t say anything else.

Devin—David—was right; we were very close to the hotel. He walked me in and up to my room, like a gentleman.

“Well, here you are,” he said.

“Where are
you
staying?” I asked.

“I’m at the Ritz of Rome.”

I widened my eyes. “Wow.” I turned the key and opened the door. “Wanna come in for a sec?” I asked.

“Sure.” We entered and he looked around. “You didn’t do too badly either,” he said in approval.

I threw my key, purse, and shopping bag on the bed and then turned to face him. He stood tall and towering in cargo pants, a long-sleeved, navy blue Henley shirt, and Italian-made canvas tennis shoes. His hair had grayed quite a bit at the temples and I noticed some wrinkles had appeared on his forehead, but he was still exceptionally handsome.

“Wow. Devin.”

“David.”

“Yes. Sorry. David.” I froze.

“Hey Andi?”

“Yeah?”

“Where’s your husband?”

I crossed my arms and hugged myself—a voluntary behavior that Melody observed I had conditioned myself to perform whenever I had to face the painful truth. The gesture was an attempt to appease myself, to get through the moment when the world felt like it was going to crash on me yet again and this time kill me for sure.

“Sam was killed by a drunk driver seventeen months ago.”

I’d seen this look on others when I’d tell them about Sam: first shock, then horror, then sympathy, then terror for their own mortality. Devin—David—went through the first three, but sympathy turned into the look he used to give me when I had confronted the shames of my sexual inexperience: total compassion and warmth that would envelope me. I averted my eyes to avoid getting sucked into that warmth.

“Oh my God. Oh, Andrea,” he said. He came to me and pulled me to him. “I am so sorry.”

I pulled myself away from him. It occurred to me that I still hadn’t used the bathroom.

“I gotta go,” I said, running to the bathroom. When I finished, I washed my hands and splashed some cold water on my face. I came out to find him still frozen in the same place.

“Well, thanks for getting me back here. Small world, huh.”

“Don’t,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t pretend with me. Don’t go back to that. We’ve both come too far.”

I shut my eyes and shook my head slowly as I spoke. “Then don’t make me feel it right now. Please. I’d like to get through just ten minutes without feeling it.”

We stood facing each other, him looking at me and me looking at the ground. The silence finally got to me.

“What
are
you doing here?” I asked.

“Business—I’m a buyer for certain gallery owners and patrons. And pleasure—I needed my Italy fix. What about you?”

“Second honeymoon.”

He cocked his eyebrow in classic Devin-style.

“Sam had intended to surprise me with this trip. It was for our fifth wedding anniversary. He surprised me by getting killed instead. I found the tickets a year later.”

“How brave of you to come by yourself.”

This time I cocked my eyebrow. “You mean stupid, don’t you?”

“You’re daring to reclaim your life. That’s incredibly brave.”

I sat on the edge of the bed. He sat next to me.

“Doesn’t feel like that to me. Feels like I’m hanging on by a thread. Feels like I’m grasping at straws, trying to find something that makes sense and feels normal again.”

“I went through that after my father died and you left. It was a double whammy. You’re in the right place, you know. Rome works wonders on the soul.”

I sat quietly and retreated to my thoughts. Devin—David—sat patiently, also quiet. Then I snapped out of it.

“How long are you here for?” I asked.

“As long as I need to be. How ‘bout you?”

“For the rest of this week. It’s spring break back home.”

“Well then, looks like we have a lot to do in a short amount of time.”

“
We?
”

“I’m gonna show you everything you need to see, take you everywhere you need to go, and feed you everything you need to taste.”

“You’re offering me your services again?”

Geez, was I
flirting
with him?

He grinned and nodded. “You bet.”

“I have nothing to offer in exchange this time.”

“Don’t be too sure about that.” He stood up. “So, what time shall I pick you up tomorrow?”

“I rarely get up before ten unless I have to.”

            He dropped his jaw. “Are you kidding me? Oye, Andrea!” he said, gesturing his hand demonstratively. “So much wasted time! No more. Be ready to leave at seven-thirty.” I looked at him in protest—you’d think he asked me to be up at three a.m. “I’m telling the desk to give you a wake-up call at six,” he said. I didn’t even attempt to argue this. “Wear sneakers,” he added.

            “That’s all I brought.”

            “Well, that’s not all you’re taking home. I’ll be knocking at your door with biscotti and espresso tomorrow morning. Buona sera.” Then he kissed me on both cheeks. “Sleep well.”

            “Thanks, David.” I remembered.

After he left, I leaned back on the bed, looking at Sam’s picture. I suddenly felt like he had eavesdropped and was not happy.

I fell asleep in my clothes, and was jarred awake the following morning by the ring of the telephone at six a.m. For once, time had flown in a flurry.

Chapter Seventeen

Day three in Italy

           
F
OR THE FIRST TIME, I SAW MYSELF IN THE MIRROR and noticed how ridiculous I looked in Sam’s clothes. Why no one had ever said anything, I don’t know. Then again, I don’t know how receptive I would’ve been if they had. Nevertheless, I became self-conscious of both my body and my clothes in anticipation of David’s arrival. (I had been practicing calling him David in my mind.) But I hadn’t packed anything even remotely flattering. Moreover, since I’d gained weight, I didn’t own anything remotely flattering. 

Indeed, at seven-thirty on the dot, David knocked on my door, and I opened it to find him holding a tray of espresso and biscotti. I was dressed in the hoody and jeans, and was putting my makeup on when he showed up. I couldn’t even remember the last time I wore makeup. He watched me get ready. Then he went through my drawers and armoire.

“What are you doing?” I asked, offended.

“Looking to see what you brought.”

“I packed comfortably.”

“Yeah, I can see that—are these all Sam’s clothes?”

“The shirts and sweaters are, yeah. The t-shirts and jeans and underwear are mine.”

“Hm. At least you’re not wearing his boxers.”

I didn’t know whether he was kidding. He opened another drawer.

“What’s with the cotton fruit-of-the-looms?” he asked, holding one of my panties up and letting it dangle.

“My friend Miranda told me to buy cheap underwear and throw them away.”

He shot me a glance of absurdity.

“I didn’t come here to hook up with anyone, Devin—David,” I corrected myself before he could. “What’s the point of wearing sexy underwear that’s just going to stink up my suitcase for the rest of the week?”

“That’s not the point, Andi.”

“What is the point?”

He shook my underwear. “The point is that these panties say, ‘I’m one step away from wearing diapers because I’m just too lazy to go to the bathroom.’ They say, ‘I don’t have a sexy bone in my body.’ They say, ‘I give up.’ Good Lord, didn’t I teach you anything?”

“Don’t start in on me already.”

“You could have at least gotten the black bikinis. What’s with the white briefs? Are you like, twelve, or something? You’re in
Italy
, for crying out loud!”