Ciao Ciao Ciaooo

I know it's been a while and I will post a real blog update about life in Rome later on tonight...this is my first ever short FICTION story that I have written, it was for my writing class, but although it's fiction, it comes from stories that I have heard or things that I have seen. It was fun to write in this manner, it's a little crazy, but anyways...here it is: 

I called our house from my office, there was no answer. He's late again, I thought. I finish work at 8, but his shop closes at six and he has a thirty minute walk, or if there's a bus it's possible to be home in ten. This is the third time this week.  I called home at 7:30, and surprisingly there was no response.  I know living in a chaotic city such as Rome can be unpredictable, but three times? I am late from time to time, sure, but I can blame it on the dreadful public transportation.

 I remember one afternoon I was at the 'capolinea' or end stop, and normally the bus driver has a quick 10 minute smoke, or grabs a ‘cafe’, but on this particular afternoon there was a bit of a distraction. In the bus door window stood a flirtatious twenty-something-year-old Italian girl. This wasn't your ordinary girl, like most Italian women, sexuality is something that pores freely out like wine, and drinks just as easy as it’s poured. Sometimes I sit back and wonder how it's possible to have that much sex appeal? At any rate, this girl was pouring a gallon of wine this evening. She stood in the door way with knee high black leather 6 inch heel boots, the right toe of the boot was gently crossed behind the left and would lift a few inches as she pelvicly laughed at bus driver's attempt to take her home.  Her left hand was elevated beyond her head and placed on top of the glass behind her. On her right hand swung a few gold bangles lined in red rubies, she had this hand placed on her hip, although most of her weight remained in an upward left lean, in a full-frontal body language engagement.

Like a snake charmer playing a flute, she had mesmerized him in such a way I’ve never seen. She flipped her long hair to the right as she spoke in quite flowing Italian. I was now mesmerized, I felt like taking notes, staring at her every move, touch and voice.

 Glancing at my watch, the bus was now ten minutes over its ten minute break. For I had lost time, but the Signora next to me surly did not, as she marched right to the bus drivers window, reached out her old hand carved wooden cane and pounded it eye level at the driver.“Andiamo, ADESSO –We go, NOW”, she said in a firm Grandma like way.  This is Italy, this is normal.

You never know when a bus will arrive; you never know when a shop will be closed. If you were to explain this story to an Italian man his response would be something like, “Ma sa una bella donna, e’ una bella donna,- But if she’s a beautiful woman, then she’s a beautiful woman”. It’s an excusable excuse. This mentality has been the Italian way for generations and will always be the Italian way. Where is my husband?

It’s 7:45, no phone call, no text. This work day seems to never end, by now I hardly understand the Italian documents I’m translating. The words just seem to blend together with English, if it closed at 6, and it’s now fifteen-till eight, that leave an hour and forty-five minutes. I have to stop this thinking, it was my choice to marry an Italian and leave everything I loved in Napa behind. I was too busy translating my own thoughts to translate anymore; I closed my books, packed up my leather satchel and headed for the door.

With my head down I rushed through the brightly light corridor, trying to go unnoticed of my five minute early departure. As I reached for the door handle I felt the soft strong touch of a man’s hand over mine. My body jilted from the familiar touch, “Oh William, it’s you, I’m sorry I didn’t say bye, it’s just, I.. umm… I needed to slip out a bit early today and head home”. He looked at me with his soft green eyes and strong jaw line, and reached out his hand which was holding something inside.

“Here, my cleaning lady found this under the nightstand yesterday, and well I think it belongs to you.”

I slowly lifted my left hand, leaving my right hand grasped tightly on the doorknob as William dropped a small pearl earring into it. I clasped my hand tightly and swung open the door as I headed home to find my husband.