One Hot Italian Summer

by Karina Halle

  “Vanni!’ Lorenzo says. “Il mio piccolo amico!”

  Vanni just stares and timidly gives him a high five. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him speechless before, and it’s adorable.

  I also don’t blame him.

  Lorenzo is a tall, hunky hulk of a man with darkly tanned skin, tattoos, and brooding look to him. His nose has definitely been broken a few times, adding a touch of rugged danger.

  He’s also wearing billowing red pants that come to his knees, high red socks, and a red shirt that looks torn and dirty already. Not the most aerodynamic uniform.

  “I only came to give you these,” he says to Claudio, slipping him three tickets. “I have to go back before some crazy fucker in a white shirt tries to fight me right here.”

  “Grazie,” Claudio says, putting the tickets away. “I will see you after the game, yes?”

  “It depends if I still have my head,” he says with a wild grin, and wags his brows at Vanni, who just gasps.

  Then Lorenzo is off and running through the crowd.

  “Wow,” Vanni says after a moment. “It’s like he’s going off to war.”

  Claudio shrugs. “That isn’t a bad analogy. There’s a reason his nickname is The Warrior.” He grabs Vanni’s hand. “Come on, let’s get some lunch and see the Duomo before the parade starts.”

  Vanni can never say no to food.

  Florence feels hotter than Lucca, and there are so many more people packed in the tiny streets, I’m guessing even more so today. The streets are crowded and a little claustrophobic, and it’s a relief when we find a restaurant on a quiet alley to have some lunch. We take our time, eating a few courses, drinking a bottle of wine and some cocktails.

  Then, when we’re refreshed, we head to the Duomo.

  I remember the history of the cathedral quite well from my classes at university, so it’s positively surreal to be standing just below the famous red dome and the green and white façade. There is so much history in this city, so many artists produced here, that it’s a little overwhelming, and the Duomo is the focal point.

  We decide to skip going inside the cathedral today, since the line is insanely long and we don’t have that much time, so we just explore the outside. Vanni wants to climb the 463 steps to the top, but I’m not even doing that when we do have the time.

  Finally it’s time for the foot parade. Because it goes past the Duomo, we stand back in the shade and watch as men and boys come out in Renaissance style outfits, marching with drums, and throwing flags up in the air.

  Then, Claudio takes us through tiny, winding streets to the Piazza di Santa Croce, where the game is held.

  It is insane.

  In front of a large, gilded cathedral with intricate architecture, is absolute chaos. I know that normally that church would be the focal point, but right now it’s the large rectangular square packed with dirt that’s surrounded by thousands of fans in red and white. The energy is off the charts.

  “We will come back tomorrow and it will be quiet,” Claudio says, nodding at the church. “The tombs of Michelangelo and Galileo are inside. I always try to pay tribute when I am here.”

  Then, with a steely grip on our hands, he leads me and Vanni through the pressing crowd until we find our seats on bleachers on the red side. We’re at the back, but honestly that’s good enough for me. I wouldn’t want to get too close to the action if it’s as dangerous as I think it is.

  It’s not long before the crowd starts chanting, waiting for the teams to come out. It’s close to five p.m. now and it’s hot as sin outside, made even hotter by all these people. Claudio tells me that almost seven thousand fans are gathered around us, most of them rabidly passionate for their neighborhood.

  Finally, the men come out and the crowd erupts.

  Twenty-seven players on each side.

  Fifty-four of the roughest, toughest, most brutal looking men I’ve ever seen, nearly all of them shirtless and covered in tattoos. Surprisingly, there’s a wide range of body types, from thin and wiry, to lean and athletic, to tall and hulking, to big and bear-like. Not surprisingly, they all look like they’re about to murder someone.

  “So, these are all professional athletes?” I ask Claudio, my voice barely audible above the crowd.

  He shakes his head. “No. They train like they are, but they do not get paid to do this.”

  “What do they get out of it?”

  “Glory. Honor. And their neighborhood gets a feast, so that’s nice.”

  Nice? These men look like they’re about to fight to the death, and all they get is some nice food to share? Wow.

  “They are in it because their heart is in it,” Claudio says. “And your heart can convince you to do anything.”

  His deep eyes linger on my face for a moment before he looks away, and I know he wasn’t just talking about the warrior’s hearts.

  And so the game starts with a clash. The goal, I believe, is to get a ball in the net at either end, but in order to do that, you have to get through the players first. And that’s where the rugby aspect comes in.

  Except in rugby you are not allowed to kick people in the head.

  Or punch them in the face.

  Or wrestle them to the ground and pin them there.

  Or use MMA moves.

  All of these techniques and more are being used to try to get the ball to the other side, blood spilling everywhere, ultimate carnage.

  It is the most intensely violent thing I’ve ever watched. I’m not even sure it can be called it a game, it really is a war, a battle, and within minutes, half the players are on the ground. Stretchers are constantly taking people off the dirt, and then those same players will run back on with broken noses and head wounds and black eyes.

  “I told you,” Vanni says to me, noting the grim expression on my face. “It is barbaric. Some play with broken ribs. Did you know that even popes used to play this game, but they were allowed to use swords? I’m not sure I could have watched that.”

  Me neither. And yet I can’t look away.

  Especially as Lorenzo is still playing. He’s really good, and his strength and bulk make it easy for him to fight his way across, taking punches but giving them even better.

  I take out my phone to try and capture it all on camera, when I notice I have a missed call.

  My heart drops through my chest.

  It’s from Jana.

  Jana hasn’t even called me once since I got here, not even after the big mix-up at the beginning. We’ve emailed a few times, but that’s been it. She’s left me alone, and I’ve been grateful for it.

  It’s never good when your agent calls.

  Unless it is good.

  Hmmm.

  Suddenly my mind is running away on me. Maybe this isn’t about my deadline, and maybe it’s not about Claudio or Vanni either, maybe we just sold movie rights or something like that.

  “Is that my mother?” Vanni asks, peering at the missed call on the display.

  Claudio immediately looks over, concerned. “Jana?”

  “I missed her call,” I say feebly. “I better go and call her back.”

  I don’t want to call her back, but I won’t be able to sit and watch the game if I don’t. “I’ll be back,” I tell them, then I make my way through the crowded stands until I’m free.

  When I find a spot in the shade away from the noise and the crowds, I take out the phone and press redial with shaking hands.

  She picks up on the first ring, giving me no time to freak out.

  “Grace,” she says in her quick, clipped voice. “How are you?”

  I swallow, trying to calm my racing heart. “I’m good. Sorry, I missed your call…”

  “That’s fine, I would have kept trying anyway. Listen, sweetheart, I have a free day tomorrow and I thought I would fly down to see you in Lucca.”

  No.

  My heart drops even further.

  “Uh…” I stammer. “Why?”

  She laughs. “Why? Because I want
to check up on you and see how you’re doing. I feel so bad about you having to be there with my ex-husband and Vanni, I know Claudio can be such a pain in the neck sometimes.”

  No, not really.

  “Plus, it would be good to hear about the book, face-to-face. And let’s be honest here, I think a little accountability isn’t a bad thing. Plus, I could use some sunshine, it’s just been rubbish weather in London. We’ve had no summer at all. Meanwhile one of my clients is down south, soaking it all up.”

  I’m just blinking, trying to figure out what to say.

  “Grace? Are you there?”

  “Yes, yes, hi,” I tell her quickly, feeling flustered. My face is going hot. “Well, that’s great and all but we’re not in Lucca right now.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In Florence.”

  “Oh,” she says. “Firenze. A day trip?”

  “No. We’re spending a few days here.”

  “You and Vanni and Claudio?”

  “Yes.” Then I hastily add, “And Lorenzo Ducati. You know, that calcium story player.”

  “Calcio Storico?” she corrects me. “And yes, I know him. He’s a big muscley piece of man meat if I’ve ever seen one.” Suddenly she gasps. “Oh, Grace. Are you together with him?”

  “Claudio?” I squeak.

  Another sharp laugh. “Good heavens, no. I mean Lorenzo.”

  I can hardly breathe. “No, no…he’s nice, though.” I say that last part a little warmly, hoping to throw her off track.

  “Ah, well then,” she says, and I know she’s taken the bait. “That’s great. He’s a good guy. A little scary, but good. Why don’t I come down to Florence tomorrow then, if you’re there for a few days. Where are you staying? The Savoy?”

  “Yes…”

  “Perfect. It will be easier for me to fly into Florence anyway. Listen, I’ll call you when I land. Don’t forget to warn the boys.”

  And then she hangs up.

  Holy SHIT.

  I don’t sleep a wink.

  How can I when fucking Jana is coming to Florence!

  After she called, I went to join Claudio and Vanni in the stands, but kept mum on the phone call. I tried to get back into the game, but it was pointless. All I could think about was Jana coming. I barely even noticed when the red team won, thanks to some winning moves by Lorenzo, who ended the game all bloody, beaten and triumphant.

  With the game over, we stayed on the streets and partied and drank, until Vanni was tired and wanted to go home. Then, on the way back to the hotel, I finally spilled the news.

  Vanni, of course, was all super excited to see his mother.

  And Claudio? Well, he was concerned, but not as upset as I thought he would be. Or, at least, not as upset as I was.

  I’m still upset. I’m lying in a gorgeous room in the Savoy hotel, a view of the Duomo from my window, feeling groggy and exhausted, and all I want to do is bury myself under the covers and never come out.

  But then there’s a knock at my door, spoiling those plans.

  I slip a robe over my camisole and booty shorts, just in case it’s room service, and I open the door.

  It’s Claudio, leaning against the doorway, looking effortlessly sexy and casual.

  “Buongiorno,” he says to me, his eyes resting briefly on my lips. I know what he’s thinking. He wants to kiss me.

  I poke my head out of the door, looking down the hall both ways, then push up on my toes to meet his mouth, giving him a quick kiss.

  “I better do that now, because I sure as hell won’t be able to do that later,” I say.

  He gives me a soft smile, eyes crinkling at the corner. “How are you doing?” he asks me. “You were pretty upset last night.”

  I exhale and throw my arms out as I head back into the room. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

  He closes the door softly behind me but keeps his distance. I suppose with Vanni right next door, he doesn’t want to get pulled into anything and lose track of time. That’s a bad habit of ours.

  “Maybe this is all happening for a reason,” he says calmly.

  “So you’re happy your ex-wife is showing up on our little vacation?”

  He crosses his arms and frowns. “No. I am not happy. But Vanni is happy. And our little vacation includes him too.”

  I close my eyes, rubbing my thumb into my forehead. “Yes. I know. Of course. I just mean…”

  “I know what you mean, Grace,” he says. “This has taken me off-guard too. But it is happening and her plane should be landing right now. So, she’ll be here soon, and then we’ll have to deal with it.”

  “What do you suppose we should do?” I ask, looking at him for answers.

  “Well, we could just continue on like we have been doing in front of Vanni, and we can pretend that we aren’t together, and that I’m not madly in love with you.”

  My heart skips at those words. I’ll never tire of hearing it.

  “Or,” he adds, “we can be adults and tell the both of them. Two birds with one sword.”

  “Stone. Two birds with one stone.”

  “I prefer sword. It’s easier to stab them both at the same time,” he says, making a jousting lunge.

  “Right. I think that’s a bad idea.”

  “I figured you would. Okay, so we just continue as we have. No problems. Okay?”

  I nod but I know that it’s not going to be that easy.

  I have a bad feeling.

  “Look, Vanni is almost ready and then we’re going to head down for breakfast. It is really good here. Why don’t you get dressed and come meet us?”

  “Okay,” I say softly, even though I can’t imagine eating anything right now.

  Of course, when I do get ready for the day, and I head downstairs to the restaurant, my stomach kicks into high gear. Walking past all the opulently set tables, spying all the food, I realize I could eat a horse.

  I find Claudio and Vanni at a table in the back. Both of them look dashing in cream colored pants and red shirts, a silky polo for Claudio, a t-shirt for Vanni. Makes me wish I had packed a red dress.

  “You guys match,” I tell them as I sit down.

  “It wasn’t on purpose,” Vanni grumbles through a bite of toast and Nutella.

  “Vanni, don’t talk with your mouth full. Not here, anyway.”

  Vanni reaches for a napkin and daintily wipes his lips with it, acting all posh.

  I laugh. “Well, you both look great.”

  “So do you,” Claudio says, eying me in my yellow and white dress. I know it will always remind him of his art. Perhaps I wore it on purpose today.

  “And so does the food,” I say, picking up the menu. I’m drooling over everything, but the first thing I need is a coffee.

  It’s when I’m nearly done with my latte that Vanni suddenly cries out, “Mamma!”

  He bolts from his chair and we look over to see Jana walking past the restaurant, towing a tiny carry-on bag behind her.

  “Vanni!” she cries out, dropping her suitcase and opening her arms and Vanni goes flying into them.

  I have to say, it breaks my heart a little.

  Not in a bad way, per se. It’s just so sweet. And it makes me realize how much Vanni needs his mother, how much he loves her, and how much Jana cares about him. Even from a distance, it’s not hard to see.

  I glance beside me at Claudio and he’s practically beaming as he watches them. It means so much to him too.

  Jana picks her suitcase back up, and Vanni grabs her hand and leads her through the restaurant toward us, and she’s waving at us as she comes near.

  She looks great, actually. When I met her in London, she was so stern and sharp, but here she already seems relaxed, even though she’s wearing a brown suit and black-framed eyeglasses. Her hair seems brighter and longer too, though still closely cropped.

  “Jana,” Claudio says warmly, while the both of us attempt to get up.

  “No, no, no,” she says, frantically waving her hands at us. “
Don’t get up. Enjoy your food. I’m going to go see if I can get an early check-in and change. They bloody hell better give me one, lord knows I have so many points racked up with this joint.” She waves at Vanni and says. “I’ll be down in a bit.”

  Then she hurries off toward reception, and no doubt there will be hell to pay with the clerk if she doesn’t get her early check-in.

  “Isn’t this great?” Vanni says to us, smiling as he sits back down.

  While Claudio’s smile comes easy to him, it’s rare to see it on Vanni.

  He goes on. “This is like all the timelines are colliding into one super timeline.”

  Oh boy.

  I exchange a look with Claudio. Vanni’s happiness is contagious, but in a way it makes everything else that much harder.

  When our food comes and we’ve finished, we leave the restaurant and see Jana waiting on a chair in the lobby. She gets up and comes over to us, heading straight for Claudio.

  I step back and watch as they embrace, kiss each other on the cheek.

  This is so weird.

  It really is. I’ve tried to fit the image of them together in my mind so many times, even after seeing their wedding photos and whatnot, but to see it in the flesh is jarring. They’re both attractive people, but they are soooo different, from their age, to their mannerisms, to their, I don’t know, life essence or something.

  But if they seem angry at each other, it doesn’t show. They don’t seem overly affectionate either, it’s just very neutral and pleasant and strange.

  Then Jana turns to me. “Grace,” she says, pulling me into a quick, light hug, a few taps on the shoulder. She’s skinny and it feels like I could crush her. “You’re looking well. You’ve got quite the glow.”

  I try not to blush and add to that glow, because only Claudio and I know what that glow is really about.

  “Okay,” she says. “Before it gets too hot and crowded, let’s go sight-seeing. Did you get to the Duomo yesterday?”

  “No,” Vanni says, “and I want to climb to the top and they don’t want to.”

  He points accusatorily at us.

  “Oh Vanni, no one wants to do that,” she says to him. “They’re spring chickens, but I am far too old. How about we go inside the cathedral for now?”