A Year at 32 September Way (5 page)

***

“Oh my god, I don’t think this apartment has seen an architectural or decorative update in about a thousand years,” groaned Nicolette as she looked around from the doorway where she’d stayed since Marcello had showed Josh around.

“Sweetheart,” Josh replied with saint-like patience, “I don’t think the apartment is that old. Besides, it’s a perfect representation of the mixture of history and progress that makes up Verona.”

She watched her husband walk from the sunlit sitting and dining area into the bedroom with suitcases in tow. “Can you help me put the clothes in the wardrobe?” she heard him say, but she pretended that his words had fallen on deaf ears.

Nicolette walked over to one of the large windows near the kitchen and eating area. She pulled the sheer white curtain aside and eyed the surrounding buildings suspiciously, noting that they all looked as old as the one they were stuck living in. “What on earth will I do with myself in this city?” she wondered aloud.

As if reading her mind, her husband called from the other room. “There’s so much for you to see and do here when I’m on the set, Nic.” The shuffling sounds of unpacking drifted out from the bedroom as he continued. “You can also come to Tuscany with me and, if you don’t like that idea, there will also be a driver at your disposal.”

The entire time he was talking and unpacking, Nicolette had remained frozen by the kitchen window, trying to process her new living arrangements. Josh popped his head out of the bedroom, interrupting her thoughts. “Hey, you always used to love an adventure. Why don’t we look at the next year as an adventure and see what we can make of it?” He walked over to Nicolette, ran his hand over her silken blond hair,
then
let it fall to grasp her hand.

“
You know I love you”
he whispered as he kissed and nibbled her ear. “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think you would end up loving it.” His hand let go of hers and slid to the small of her back.

“Come here, Sig
nora Reardon,” he whispered as he drew her close. “Let’s go have our first adventure now.” He led Nicolette off to the bedroom as the creases on her forehead softened and her lips began to turn up in a smile. Italy was going to be their new start, Josh thought.  He lay her down on the canopy-covered bed, covered her with kisses and then looked into her eyes. They made love tenderly and passionately, and Nicolette forgot all about her initial disappointments.
At least for now.

***

Charles had been sitting in his third-floor apartment for an hour, alternately staring at the cup of tea in front of him and the view outside his kitchen window. He had to admit it was quite a view. Yet he felt frozen to the kitchen chair, unable to move and unsure of what to do next.

His entire adulthood, Charles had worked. The bank had been his life, except for the brief months with Emma, which were only a memory now. His schedule, his desk, his focus on work had filled in the gaps and provided him with the soothing reassurance that life was okay, that he was okay. When he rose in the morning, he dressed for work and thought about his morning agenda. Before he went home at night, he organized the brown leather-bound planner on his mahogany desk so the next day was planned out and waiting for him when he returned.

The garment bag full of suits was draped over the back of the couch in Charles’ Verona apartment. “What will I use them for?” Charles asked himself. The nerves and anticipation that had filled him on the plane this morning were gone, but they had been replaced by fear, uncertainty and emptiness.

“Who am I now?” he whispered. He thought of the suits he’d carefully hung inside the garment bag. Memories of the meetings he’d worn them to filled his distraught mind as he struggled to soothe himself with a familiar thought. The charcoal gray lightweight wool suit was Charles’ favorite; he had worn it for his last promotional meeting. He’d been the last one to enter the mahogany-paneled meeting room that day after the bank’s board members had discussed the various candidates for executive branch manager. A few other candidates had been summoned in before Charles, but he’d felt unusually calm that morning.

As he’d walked past the mirror on his way into the boardroom, he’d caught a glimpse of himself and had been surprised at the confident, successful-looking man peering back at him. The man looked so sure of himself, as if he could take any circumstance and turn it into a smashing success. Charles had quickly dismissed such thoughts about his own image and chalked it up to the suit. Since then, if he sought success in a situation, he always turned to his favorite charcoal gray suit. It had never let him down.

In a flurry of movement, Charles jumped from his chair, knocking it backwards to the floor with a
thunk
. He leapt toward the garment bag and unzipped it with trembling hands.  Normally he removed his suits gingerly from the bag, but this time he yanked them out one after another until his lucky suit was in his hands. “Thank god, thank god you’re here!” he exclaimed, clutching it to his chest. It would be fine now; everything would be fine now, he thought as he stripped down to his neatly pressed boxer shorts and white dress shirt. One piece at a time, he put on the suit: the pants, the vest and finally the jacket. Calmly, he walked back to the table and righted the fallen chair. Before sitting down, Charles removed a leather-bound booklet and pen from his suitcase, and placed them side by side on the kitchen table. He sat down and opened to the first page of the yet-unused booklet.

“Agenda: 1
st
Day of September,” he wrote across the top in his neatest penmanship. The agenda would be made a little late today, but he wouldn’t allow that to happen again. Order would be restored, and Charles would feel better about things. He knew he would. He brushed an errant fiber from the right sleeve of his wool suit jacket, and then mopped the perspiration off his brow with a paper napkin.

“Purchase cloth napkins,” he wrote on the day’s agenda, and then he paused to think about the other familiarities he would need. He would be okay in Verona once order was restored.

***

Eva had fully expected to be settled into her apartment and snuggling in Marcello’s arms by early evening, yet here it was nearly 7pm and she wasn’t there yet. She had been to Verona plenty of times before and knew the ride from the train station to the center of the city should only take about ten minutes. But after they got into the taxi, the driver’s cellphone rang. He’d turned away slightly and spoke rapid Italian while gesturing with his free hand. After hanging up and mopping his brow with a cotton handkerchief he’d pulled from his pants pocket, he’d smiled sheepishly at Eva.

An hour-long drive around Verona followed; each time Eva questioned the taxi driver, he responded in Italian. It seemed that, somehow or another, he’d lost all ability to speak English
after receiving that phone call at the train station. Eva was tired, hot and sweaty as the taxi finally turned down the street. She looked around and realized there were high courtyard walls on either of the street, rather than the open courtyards she was used to seeing, or the doors and windows with geraniums that spilled over the flowerboxes like water from a waterfall. Then it dawned on her; they were driving down the alley that ran between the backs of two rows of buildings. This was where the residents parked their scooters at night and set their trash each week for the waste truck to take away.

“Why on earth are we coming down the back street?” Eva wondered, struggling with a mixture of impatience and confusion. It was as if she was being snuck in like a spy. She opened her mouth to protest, but then the taxi came to a stop. The cab driver got out, opened the door for her and had her luggage out of the trunk before she’d barely gotten herself unstuck from the fake leather upholstery. He walked with her to a locked courtyard gate and knocked twice, then paused for a moment and knocked once more. She could hear a key turning in the lock before the gate slowly swung open.

“My darling!”
Marcello exclaimed as he pulled her into his arms and then quickly released her as he realized she was sweaty. “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting…no,
longing
to see you again.”

Marcello placed his folded hand in the palm of the taxi driver, leaving behind a wad of cash that seemed to far exceed a normal cab fare. At that point, though, Eva didn’t really care. The trip from the train station to the apartment had been a fiasco, and she was ready to be done with it. Anger welled up inside her chest, making it difficult to breathe even in the cool evening air.

“Bring me to my apartment,” she managed to say before a small sob escaped her throat.

“Oh, my rose, you’re not sad, are you?” Marcello lifted her hand and brushed it with a gentle kiss, tasting the salt on her skin.

“Please, Marcello. It’s been a long trip. I want to go to my apartment, take a shower and get settled. That’s all I want right now.” She wanted to question him about why he wasn’t there to pick her up like she’d expected. She wanted to know why the taxi driver had driven around for an hour before bringing her to the apartment and why, for god’s sake, they drove through the back street to get there. But Eva didn’t ask any of her questions because she just wanted to go home, wherever that was.

“Of course, my darling.
Let me carry your luggage and we’ll go right up to your apartment,” Marcello said as if everything were perfectly fine. “There’s no need to be upset. I’ve prepared everything for you and have made your apartment almost as beautiful as you are. In fact, look,” he gestured toward a tall enclosed staircase on the back of the building, “I’ve even arranged for you to have your own special entryway so you don’t have to be bothered with anyone else’s noise.”

At that point, Eva was just thankful she didn’t have to carry the two heavy suitcases up the four flights of stairs. Marcello was fit but, by the time they reached the doorway, even he was
huffing and panting. He turned the key and, between gulps of air, gestured into the room with a sweeping motion. “Welcome to Verona, my sweet rose. Welcome to your new home.”

The apartment was indeed lovely, Eva thought as she stepped through the heavy wooden door. The white stucco walls revealed areas where various colors of stone were left uncovered to decorate the walls with spots of pale yellow, slate gray and other earthy colors here and there. Dark wood beams alternated with stucco to form the ceiling, and the floor was made with pale gray natural stone. Pastel-hued rugs covered the floor, adding to the softness and warmth of the room’s décor.

Sunset was just two hours away, but the last of the sun’s rays shone through the windows and the sheer cotton curtains fluttered in the cool evening breeze. The kitchen was simple but functional, with terra-cotta and stone crockery containers decorating the countertop. One small oak table and two chairs sat near the window; next to the window was a pair of French doors leading to a small balcony where Eva could watch the whole city wake up as she drank her morning coffee.

Beyond the kitchen was a comfortable sitting area with an overstuffed couch adorned with cabbage rose upholstery, a wicker chaise lounge with a pale goldenrod cushion and a wooden cocktail table in the middle. On the cocktail table was a large glass vase that held a few dozen pink roses, too many to count, and their sweet spicy fragrance filled the room. Between the sitting area and the bedroom stood a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf filled with books by many of her favorite authors…a loving gesture Marcello had gone to great lengths to achieve just for her.

To the left was a full-sized bed with a wrought-iron headboard and footboard and a fluffy feather bed. Pink rose petals decorated the top of the bed, trailed over the nightstand and ended to form a path on the floor. Marcello had outdone himself, Eva thought as she felt her disappointment and anger dissipating. It was clear he’d gone to a great deal of trouble to make the apartment perfect for her. She’d even noticed her favorite brand of coffee on the countertop.

“Marcello, I’m sorry I was angry. I was just so tired from my trip and so sad that you didn’t come to meet me yourself. The apartment is beautiful, and I know I will be so happy here.”

“My darling, it pleases me to hear that you are happy. I know I’ve disappointed you. But I will make it up to you. I promise to make it up to you.” Marcello drew her into his arms, letting one hand get lost in her silken blond hair. He kissed her, gently at first, and then more fervently as the passion welled up inside him. Eva returned his kisses with her own rising passion until she broke away from him, beckoning him toward the bed with her eyes. They made passionate love as the sun set over Verona and cast shades of pink and violet over the inside of the apartment.

The apartment was all but dark when Eva lit a candle next to the bed and asked Marcello if he would spend the night with her. “I have an appointment first thing in the morning at the bank, so I have to leave early. But nothing would please me more than to be with you your first night here and wake up next to your beautiful face.”

Marcello climbed out of bed and strode naked across the room toward the bathroom. Eva watched him in the glimmer of the candlelight. “God, he’s gorgeous,” she thought, noticing the movement of his muscles and the glistening of his golden skin.

Thoughts of making love to Eva again and again consumed Marcello as he retrieved his cellphone from his pants, which were draped over the sofa. There was one text message from Carlotta’s brother: