A Semester Abroad (19 page)

When they returned, makeup faded, Lisa too drunk and looking bloated, Janine not as put together as she once was, Lisa passed out immediately, but Janine sat with us for a while, blowing puffs of cigarette smoke inconsiderately. I waved the smoke away with my hand, exaggerating. Janine scowled at me and didn’t apologize. Smoking had, as is had for many of us, become her new habit. And she did it to the extreme, milking every puff for the dramatic look it gave her.

Finally, she went to bed and Michelle made instant coffee in the kitchen. Although I couldn’t see her, I knew that Michelle was crying. When she returned to the table with a
cannella
laced cup for both of us, I smiled up at her, wrapping my hands around the warm cup.

“You okay, Michelle?”

“Yeah, hanging in. Just been feeling a bit homesick, you know. I think it’s good that I’m going to go home.”

“Yeah, but you’ll come back right?”

Michelle waited a second before answering. She sipped from her cup and savored it. “Of course, I will. I can’t leave you alone in the house with these two freaks.”

We agreed to stay up until six. At five, we decided to go for a walk. The night we walked home from Tendenza, we smelled bread. We found the bakery again, we banged on the wooden door and tried to negotiate with the round Sienese man with a bushy beard.

He offered us a basket of steaming rolls. He refused payment. We took two rolls each and walked back to our apartment with the warm paper bags. We ate the first one quickly and the second one we relished, letting the bread practically dissolve in our mouths.

“I have to come back,” Michelle said. “We don’t have bread like this back home.”

At the
pausa
the next day, I saw Michelle who winked. “I got a B on my final.”

“They tell you right away?”

“Yep. And let me just say, it’s a good thing you schooled me on those
passato prossimos
. It was in, like, every multiple choice.”

“I didn’t think they’d tell you right away.”

“Why wait?” Michelle asked. She gave me a big hug. She was in a rush because she had to get to the airport in Pisa. “Listen, G, have a good time in Paris. And tell Janine I said bye, in case I don’t see her.
Ciao, bella
.”

Then she was gone, leaving me in the café to look over at the terrifying Signora Laza. I was going to know in two days whether or not I passed this class. Grades had always come easy for me, but I had been studying harder than I ever had to do well in this class. Shouldn’t this language be innate in me? I was Italian-American. Didn’t that count for anything?

I studied for five hours straight after class. I didn’t even eat lunch, because I was going out for dinner with the class and Signora Laza at a pizzeria on the
campo
.

“Don’t you think you are overdoing it a bit?” Lucy asked when we finally met up to walk over to the dinner.

“You’re going to get an A. I’m the one
La Strega Laza
said had to study.”

At the restaurant, it was just my luck to be sandwiched between Lucy and the opera singer, directly across from Signora Laza and the beautiful German, Brigitte, at dinner. I whispered in Lucy’s ear that whatever happened, she couldn’t leave me exposed to any kind of conversation with the
professoressa
.

Signora Laza literally let her hair down. She still wore her unstylish glasses, but she chain-smoked and she laughed. It was an actual sound coming out of her open mouth, not merely the strange tight smile she had when one of us
stranieri
said something stupid.

She ordered the meal for the group, dropping c’s like a Tuscan and not using the perfect accent she did in class. We were served family-style. We started with the bruschetta and crostini with chicken liver. There was copious amounts of wine.

Then the food came in waves. All of the pasta was
fatta in casa,
homemade
.
There was the ubiquitous thick Sienese
pici
pasta served with peas; there were large ravioli served with some kind of sweet meat that tasted like duck. Then there were roughly cut pieces of pasta served in a rich glistening sauce and tossed with crispy pieces of sage.

The
secondi
were brought to us on deep blue beautiful china. There were thin slices of beef served with earthy mushrooms, grilled pork chops and the wild boar
cinghiale
that was a treat I only splurged on occasionally. I also sampled some roasted rabbit, which was tender and delicious, though I couldn’t quite get over what it was.

Initially, I tried to avoid eye contact with Signora Laza, but unfortunately Lucy got caught up in a conversation with the Greek over my plate. They were scandalously speaking English. If I participated, Signora Laza would believe that I instigated the English, because I couldn’t speak Italian.

The Greek woman and Lucy were arguing. Lucy accused Maria of being disruptive in class. I giggled when Lucy sincerely called the her a prima donna, but it wasn’t a big deal, because Maria liked it.

“I’m an actress,” she said again and again. “I’m an actress.”

“And you, Gabriella,” Signora Laza said. “What will you do for this break?”

“I will go to Paris to see my friend.” My Italian was perfect. I pretended I was saying it to Gaetano. And because I drank too much delicious Chianti, I said it with the best accent I ever had, rolling my r’s a bit too much, truth be told. “I need the rest after all of the studying.”

In the light of the restaurant it was hard to be certain if behind Signora Laza’s glasses she winked, but Brigitte, the German, laughed. I shrugged and smiled. Under the table, Lucy pinched my leg. Over the table, she poured me more wine.

The plates kept coming from the kitchen, bringing more and more until it was finally time for dessert and espresso. We ate
zuppa inglese
for dessert. It was a yummy sponge of orange, vanilla and liquor. We all shared it and when we thought the meal was over, Signora Laza insisted on ordering the Vin Santo and
cantucci
that completed every meal. I couldn’t help thinking that she really was a
strega
, a witch, fattening me for the kill.

“Okay,
ragazzi
,” the
professoressa
said, clapping her hands together as she did in class. “I would like us to go to the
campo
and get to know a little something about your culture.”

We were confused, but everyone put their jackets on. When I stood up, I realized how incredibly full I was. It was rare for me to eat so much, but it was all on Signora Laza. I wondered if the school subsidized her or she was actually that generous.

When we got to the
campo
, it was strangely empty. We stood before the tower. I was scared of what came next. I was too drunk for any kind of weird language lesson she might have cooked up. I didn’t trust this scheme of Laza’s.

“Okay, who will be done with their studies after this final?” Signora Laza asked the group. Brigitte and two of the Koreans raised their hands. “Only you three may climb this tower. The rest of you must wait until you know that you are done with your studies here in Italy or you will have bad luck. Now I would like all of you to sing to us a song from your country. The national anthem or another song that you prefer.”

Lucy immediately handed me a cigarette and said, “I’m not much for the ‘Star Spangled Banner.’”

We smoked and watched as the groups of Japanese, German, Spanish and the Greek sang their songs. Maria, enjoyed this the most. She was a true ham, enjoying the solo, but she had a beautiful voice. It was the Americans turn, Lucy and I and Pete, from another program.

“
Boh
,” Lucy said in the Italian way of confessing confusion. Then she looked at us, her two partners. “What should it be?”

“We could do ‘American Girl.’” I suggested, shrugging once again.

“That’s got that funny little break down,” said Pete. “What about ‘Born in the U.S.A?’”

“I could do the boss,” Lucy said. “He represents.”

“Okay,” I said, “but I might forget the words.”

So we sang and I hesitated a bit, but found I knew all the words. On the third chorus the rest of the group, including Signora Laza, sang along. The Japanese couple raised their hands in the air on each “born” and swayed from side to side. Afterward, everyone clapped, as much for themselves as for us.

Then it was the Koreans turn. Jung stood in the middle of the two Korean women. They sang a song with a title I would never know. But it sounded so sweet and they looked so sincere that I sighed. I understood why Signora Laza wanted to do this. The
università per stranieri
was more than a place to learn the language. I smiled at Signora Laza, not afraid for the moment to meet her eyes.

“Okay,
ragazzi
, now you must get some sleep. Remember, tomorrow is a study day for you, so I will see you Friday afternoon after your written exam. I suggest you all study very hard. And now I wish you luck the Italian way. Does anyone know what it is?” No one was sure.

“
In bocca al lupa
.” The mouth of a wolf. I knew it and remembered how to answer.

“
Creppi
.”

We all wished each other luck the Italian way. I should have known that one way or another Signora Laza would manage to teach us a lesson.

On Thursday, I didn’t pull an all-nighter but I did study during the day for eleven hours. I ate tuna packed in oil for protein. Lisa was overly confident about the test. She tried to engage me in Italian preparatory conversation. She claimed to want to practice, but I suspected she wanted to embarrass me. I would not give in. “I’ve got to study for the written part, Lisa.”

Around nine, there was a knock at the door and I opened it to find Gaetano leaning against the door frame as if he was posing for a picture.

“Hi,” I said in English, because I was surprised, then I remembered and switched to Italian after we kissed hello. “I’m happy to see you. I was just studying. Tomorrow, I have a final and then I leave for Parigi.”

“Yes, I know, I wanted to see you before you left.” He held out a bag. “Chicken, for you to eat.”

“Thank you, do you want to come in?” He came inside, pointing and shaking his head at my bare feet. We sat at the little table in the hall.

“Do you want to get a drink later?” he asked.

“No, I can’t. I have to study.” What I really wanted to do is ask him to refresh me on definite rules for using
passato remoto
. I didn’t do that, though. I had to get used to him not helping me. “Maybe we can get a drink another time, when I get back.”

“Maybe,” he said, glancing around my apartment as if he expected someone else to be there.

“Michelle has gone, you know. You heard about her grandmother?”

“Duccio told me.” He was being matter-of-fact with me. He was providing answers to my questions, nothing more. There was no sparkle, no sweetness. I wasn’t sure how to take him.

“So, did you go home? Did you go to the south?”

“No, not yet.” So he just didn’t keep in touch with me. I understood that. I didn’t like it, but I understood. I changed the subject. I would be as charming and as social as possible.

“This chicken smells delicious. Do you want some?”

“No,
tesoro
, I got it for you. You enjoy it.” I was still his treasure somehow.

“It was very nice to see you,” I said. “Would you like me to make you lunch tomorrow? I don’t have to leave until three.”

“I may be busy studying, too.”

“Okay,” I said. I looked down at the chicken in my lap. The grease was seeping through the bag a bit. It was rare for me to get poultry here. I couldn’t wait to eat it. I wished he would stay and eat with me. He reached over and rubbed my cheek, surprising me.

“I have to go,
bella
. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” We stood up, leaving my books and my grammar questions behind. I opened the door for him.

“Thank you again for the chicken,” He shook his head at my
grazie
. “I know, I know, but it was nice and I wanted to say thank you.”

‘Okay,
bella
,” he kissed my cheeks. Then he wished me luck for the test tomorrow. “
In bocca al lupa, domani
.”

“
Creppi
,” I said, pleased that I know how to answer, thanks to Signora Laza.

The chicken was delicious. The aroma filled the house. Both Lisa and Janine hovered around me until I offered them pieces. When I was finished, Lisa asked to eat my leftovers.

At midnight I went to bed. I was afraid to stop studying, but I knew I couldn’t absorb any more. I crawled into my bed. It was still cold in my room but not cold enough for me to undress under the covers. I set the alarm for eight and checked it several times, neurotically.

I would not let myself think of anything, but verb conjugations and pronouns. As I reviewed them in my mind, I fell asleep.

In the morning, I woke up feeling as if I had already taken my final but knowing that I had been dreaming about it all night. On the way to the bathroom, I passed Lisa sitting up in her bed. She was getting in one last final review. Lisa was more nervous about this test than she let on.

“
Hai parlato nel sogno
,” Lisa said. You talked in your sleep.