Again, But Better

by Christine Riccio

  He tilts his head forward. “Shane, it doesn’t open till three.”

  “Yeah, you go, and I’ll stay here.”

  “You think I’m just going to leave you here huddled on the curb by yourself?”

  I look away from his face, feeling guilty. “Just go meet up with them. I’m fine!”

  I wonder what the protocol actually is for losing your passport in a foreign country. Why wasn’t this in So You’re Going to Study Abroad?

  “Let’s go grab some food, and then we’ll track down Sahra and Babe,” he suggests.

  My eyebrows furrow again. I do my best to keep my voice level. “Pilot, I don’t have any money. I have nothing; I have to stay and wait for my purse.”

  His eyebrows descend as he responds with all seriousness, “Oh, is it meeting you out here?”

  A breath huffs through my lips, and I fiddle with my numbers bracelet, spinning it around on my wrist. The idea of carrying the added guilt of ruining Rome for both me and Pilot is too much. Losing a passport is a trip ruiner.

  “What does your bracelet mean?” he asks.

  “It’s a Lost thing. You’d have to watch it.” I dismiss his next distraction attempt and instantly feel shitty about it.

  “I lost my wallet once—” he tries again.

  I interrupt him. “This isn’t the same, Pies.”

  “Excuse me, can I tell my insightful story?” He raises his eyebrows. I deflate, caving in on myself and staring at the ground.

  “So, I was in Florida with my roommates, freshman year spring break, and we took a cab to the beach.”

  I’m distracted momentarily, imagining Pilot all shirtless on the beach. I raise my gaze and watch him talk.

  “When we got there, we set up camp near the water, and then I realized my wallet wasn’t in my pocket.”

  I raise my eyebrows sarcastically.

  He continues. “It was our only beach day there, and I spent about an hour retracing my steps all over the sand before heading back to where my buddies were. I had to borrow one of their phones to try and get ahold of the cab company. I gave them my hotel info and my friend’s number so that if they found it, they could return it. Then I spent the day stressed out, pacing around and worrying.”

  “Uh-huh.” I narrow my eyes.

  He smiles. “And then I got a call around four that a driver had found a wallet and dropped it off at my hotel. When we went back, it was there.”

  I study him skeptically for a moment. “What’s your point?” I say, trying to sound aloof.

  “It’s not worth the stress of stressing. We’re here for two days. You can’t spend one of them sitting on the curb of a restaurant for six hours.”

  “But what if—”

  “Let’s go get a gelato.” He stands and offers me a hand.

  “What? It’s, like, nine in the morning,” I say from the curb.

  “And?”

  “And I don’t have any money,” I add gloomily.

  “I’ve got this one.”

  I twist back to frown at the trattoria behind me. Why are you closed? I need you now! When I turn back, Pilot’s still holding out his hand. I am hungry. I won’t be able to eat if I pass up this offer and insist on staying—because money.

  “And then we’ll come back and check on the restaurant?” I ask, grabbing his hand.

  He pulls me up off the curb and releases my palm. My hand is fangirling as I return it to my side. I begrudgingly follow him down the cobblestone street.

  “And then we’ll meet Sahra and Babe at the Colosseum.”

  I let this sit for a moment. Maybe he’s right. Am I being stays-in-her-dorm-and-misses-everything-out-of-fear Shane? But, if they happen to open early, I’d be here the second they open.

  I sigh. “But what if I need Chapstick and start to deteriorate due to withdrawal?”

  In front of me, Pilot turns back and shoots me a sarcastic look. I can see him trying not to smile behind it.

  “If it gets bad, I’ll take you to the hospital myself.”

  The corners of my mouth twitch up. Pilot hooks a left at the next corner, and we stop abruptly outside a gelato shop. It’s open. What the heck? “How did you know this was here?”

  “We passed it last night.”

  “It was dark!” I exclaim in disbelief.

  He puts a finger to his temple. “Good with directions.”

  Pilot buys me a watermelon gelato, and we make our way down to a tourist-swarmed Colosseum. We find Sahra and Babe in the line to get in. While we’re waiting, I express my extreme disappointment in not being able to document the day because my digital camera is in my purse—and immediately Babe offers to let me borrow hers whenever I feel like snapping a picture. I fight the urge to wrap her in one of those abrupt, emotional thank-you hugs because I don’t want to come off as too dramatic. I go a little boneless for a second, looking from her to Pilot. I got real lucky being assigned to Flat Three.

  1/16/11 11:50 p.m.

  I thought I would be tired, having spent the last two days flouncing about in Rome and then traveling all the way back to the Karlston, but I’m invigorated right now. I’m riding this weird post-travel high. I already edited all the pictures, put them up on Facebook, and finished dramatizing a first draft of the harrowing tale of almost losing my passport for my blog (“That Time I Lost My Passport”). I’m happy with it, but I need to put down a more personal recounting of the weekend so I don’t forget any of the details that made it super-wonderful.

  THE ROME TRIP 1/14–1/16/2011: A HIGHLIGHTS REEL

  We Explored the Colosseum

  When the time was right, I switched into photographer mode, borrowing Babe’s camera and snapping solo pictures of Babe, Pilot, and Sahra. Afterward, Babe took the camera away and shooed me and Pilot out in front of the lens. Immediately, I felt nervous and self-conscious. Is it okay to be in a picture alone with Pilot? Babe snapped the shot. Pilot then took the camera from Babe and instructed the girls to go stand at my side, and he snapped one of the three of us.

  We Saw Super-Ruiny Ruins

  We headed up the hills surrounding the Colosseum where temples and ruins of all sorts of ancient architectural grandeur were scattered. We took our time, stopping to gawk in awe at everything. I basically ended up hijacking Babe’s camera for the entirety of the hike, directing everyone into different poses in front of all sorts of beautiful giant structures. You don’t see things like this in the United States. We’re too new. Everything in Rome feels old, weathered, and loaded with character.

  I Ate More Ravioli

  Around noon, we stopped for more Italian food. Sahra offered to cover my meal. I hugged her. She politely patted my back until I pulled away. I told her I’d pay her back as soon as I gained access to money. The three of them drank more Italian wine, and I worried more about my purse. Pilot promised he’d come with me to check out the trattoria again after we ate, so I quickly devoured the most delicious ravioli I’ve ever had.

  We Found My Purse

  Thank the heavens! When I raced us back to the trattoria, it was open, and they had my purse behind the counter. Babe whooped, Sahra smiled, and Pilot loosed an excited HEY of triumph. My relief was palpable. It was all I could do not to tear up as I described the items inside, and the owner handed the cross-body to me across the hostess table. I fell to the floor in a low squat and hugged it to my chest, feeling so blessed that I got to keep going—the adventure wasn’t over yet.

  We Saw the Pantheon

  Pilot took the lead, paving our path to the Pantheon with the map he had stashed in his back pocket. We headed down a narrow street lined with little shops that emptied into an open square dominated by one single, giant stone structure—the Pantheon.

  I did a whole project on the Pantheon in high school, so walking up to it felt more surreal than any other landmarks we visited. I reverently stepped through its garden of pillars and into the circular cavern within. Niches line the circumference of the chamber, each one filled with som
e sort of historical statue or tomb, and when you look up at the ceiling, there’s an enormous uncovered hole in the center called the oculus. You can look right up at the sky! While I was ogling up at it, Pilot said, “Give me your camera,” and when I dropped my gaze, he was right in front of me. I handed it to him. He hurried back a few feet and snapped a picture of me inside the Pantheon. Babe saw him take it, came over, took the camera from him, and told him to get into the picture with me. My skin buzzed as he sidled up next to me and settled his arm around my waist. Another picture of just the two of us. This one, on my camera. This one would be (is) in my Facebook album.

  The four of us made our way around the circumference of the room, exploring all the niches and reading the signs inlaid with small bursts of history. Robert Langdon–related trivia kept zooming around my brain. I got to a point where I couldn’t help myself, and yelped about it excitedly.

  Me: *flails* Guys, remember when Robert Langdon came here in The Da Vinci Code?

  Pilot, Babe, and Sahra: *crickets*

  I proceeded to insist upon their reading of Angels and Demons and The Da Vinci Code.

  We Saw the Trevi Fountain

  We all threw coins over our shoulders and made wishes. The fountain itself was fantastical! There was so much detail in every statue, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it sprang to life (but that would be horrifying; there’s one too many practically naked intense-looking men in that fountain).

  We Climbed the Freakin’ Vatican

  Sunday (this morning), we spilled out of a bus into an area cordoned off with an impressive array of giant pillars. It legit felt like we were walking into Mount Olympus. The four of us wandered into the most breathtaking square thus far. I’ve never seen architecture this grandiose, this—epic.

  Inside the Vatican, we climbed this endless winding staircase. The steps actually twisted sideways and up onto the wall as we reached the uppermost domed portion of the church. I loved it.

  We were all out of breath when we finally reached the top. The path led us outside, onto a narrow balcony that encircled the tip of the dome. The four of us diffused, spreading out among the rest of the tourists. When I spotted an open area of railing, I flung myself against it to stare out at the city. I tried to memorize the view, the feeling of wonder and accomplishment, the joy pumping through my veins.

  We Saw the Pope

  Back in St. Peter’s Square, there was a massive gathering of people looking up at a taupe-colored building. We wandered over to see what the fuss was about, squinting our eyes against the sun. There, five stories up, looking out over a balcony, arms extended, was the Pope. What even!

  I can’t believe we were only gone for two days. We saw so much. I never dreamed so much could be done in two days. But it can! I can’t wait to do this in other countries. There’s so many possibilities. I’m so much more excited about my Packed! For Travel! internship!

  11. What Comes Next?

  January 17, 2011

  Mom and Dad,

  I got an email this morning confirming that I got the internship at the magazine, Packed! For Travel! I start next Tuesday! I’ll have to lie to you about where I’m working when we Skype, and I’m not looking forward to it. I hope BBQ this past Sunday went well. Did anyone notice I was gone?

  XO,

  Shane

  I slip today’s postcard in with my growing collection as Professor Blackstairs hands back our first assignment. I almost leap out of my seat when mine falls onto my desk. I got an A.

  An hour and a half into class, Professor Backstairs dismisses us for a fifteen-minute break. A lot of students head out into the street to grab a snack or some air. I guess I could do that. There’s a Café Nero down the street, and I could go for a latte. I push up out of my seat and make my way outside.

  “Shane?”

  I pause on the front steps of the class building, my gaze snapping up to find Pilot ten feet in front of me on the sidewalk.

  “Hey!” I walk over to where he’s stopped.

  “Are you done with class?” he asks, confused.

  “No, I’m on fifteen-minute break. I was going to grab a latte,” I tell him, delighted I decided to leave the classroom.

  He shakes his head with a disbelieving grin. “Dang, me too. I guess our professors coordinated today.”

  He’s all casual, hands in his pockets, hunched slightly against the breeze as we start down the block. I stuff my hands into my pockets too.

  “So, Rome for the weekend is over,” he says, a half smile on his lips.

  Residual Rome hype spills out of me. “Yeah, it was so fast, but we saw so much stuff! I mean, yeah, the Sistine Chapel was closed but—”

  “But,” he interjects happily, “we got to chill with the Pope.”

  “That we did, that we did.”

  “How would you rate it out of ten?”

  I consider this for a moment, pursing my lips. “Hmm, eight out of ten, I think, which is excellent, but leaves room for improvement. If there’s ever a trip that’s out-of-this-world superb, like if we got to hang with Taylor Swift and the Pope, that would be a ten.”

  Pilot nods approvingly.

  “And what would you rate it?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

  He answers in a cheeky, over-the-top version of his voice. “I mean, I’m pissed Taylor Swift wasn’t there, but I guess I’d give it an eight out of ten too.”

  I snort as we come to a stop, waiting for the walk signal to cross the street. “Where else do you want to travel while you’re here?”

  He jumps at the question. “Oh, man, everywhere! Scotland, France, Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, Hungary, Denmark, Austria. I really just want to go as many places as I can.”

  I bite back a smile at the enthusiasm in his voice. “It’s so cool that everything’s so close. I didn’t realize we’re like two hours from so many places.” The light changes, and we scurry toward Café Nero. “When do you fly back to the States?”

  “I don’t have a return ticket yet,” he says.

  My head whips over to meet his eyes as we reach the sidewalk again. “You don’t have a return ticket?”

  “Nope. Playin’ it by ear. We’ll see what happens.”

  There’s that phrase again.

  “Wow.” I pause as he pulls open the door to Café Nero. We step in and join the line. People go places without getting a return ticket?

  “I never even realized that’s … like, an option when you travel,” I say slowly.

  “What countries do you want to hit?”

  “Um, I don’t know. I didn’t think about it enough because I didn’t realize everything was so close, and now I want to go everywhere I can.” I meet his eyes again.

  He smiles and straightens his arms, stuffing his hands farther into his pockets. I float a few inches off the ground. His smiles aren’t like mine, which typically etch themselves onto my face for various stretches of time. Pilot’s are fleeting; they come and then they’re gone again, and he’s back to his normal resting chill expression.

  “Next!” the barista snaps. Get back on the ground, Shane. He has a girlfriend. I whirl around to place my order. After Pilot places his, we huddle in silence for a moment at end of the counter, waiting for our drinks.

  “How goes the music making?” I ask. “Are you going to tour with this new album you’re coming out with?” Amusement dances through my words.

  He looks at the ceiling and lets go of a laugh. “Well, I’m hoping to do some gigs around New York City over the summer, like open mics and stuff, try to get our name out there.”

  My mouth falls open. “Really? That’s awesome.”

  “Yeah, I really want to take this summer to do it because I don’t think I’ll get another chance with graduation coming and everything.”

  “Are you going to invite us to your gigs?” I grin.

  His cheeks flush. “I don’t know…” he answers shyly.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? I want to come!”
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br />   The barista drops our drinks on the table. Pilot smiles at his latte. “We’ll see.”

  “We’ll see?” I repeat with mock frustration as I grab my own. “We’re going to come and support your musical talents,” I insist.

  “What about you?” he says when we’re back outside. “How’s the book-writing plan going?”

  I laugh in surprise. “I haven’t started. I have ideas but, I don’t know, none of them feel good enough. Or I guess, I’m not sure I could write them. We’ll see,” I finish slowly, staring into my drink.

  “You should just go for it,” he encourages.

  We cross the street, approaching the class buildings again.

  “We should all plan another trip for this weekend,” Pilot suggests before we part.

  “Yeah!” I call eagerly, as he strides toward the building next to mine.

  * * *

  This morning, Babe and I agreed to meet up for lunch. So after class, I wait for her on the corner. I wave happily as she approaches.

  “Hey!” I greet her. “How was class?”

  “Boring. You?” she says. We fall into step.

  “Mine was excellent! We talked about structure, specifically the break between act one and two!”

  She laughs. “Cool—you ready to try this burger place?” she says excitedly. Ninety percent of what Babe says is said excitedly.

  We head into Byron’s, a gourmet burger place we pass on the way to class. Once we’re seated, a waiter comes to take our drink orders while we study the menu. They have milkshakes! Shakes and burgers—it feels so American! I’ve only been gone a week, but it already feels like I’ve been out of the country for ages. Weirdly, American things are starting to feel rare and special, in a way they’ve never felt before.