When In Rome...Lose Control: Cynthia's Story

by Mae Hill,Lena

  Chapter Ten

  “Hey, Mom,” Cynthia said when her mom answered her call. “Sorry I haven’t called more. I really meant to.”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” her mom said. “I just woke up.”

  “Me, too, actually,” Cynthia said. “We were out dancing all night.”

  “That sounds like fun,” her mom said. “Have you been spending time with a boy?”

  “Naw, not really,” Cynthia said with a little shrug. “I mean, Kristina set me up with a guy she met. It was fun.”

  “But no one special?”

  “You want me to meet someone special here and get my heart broken? I’d rather have fun. If I meet someone too special, I won’t want to come home.”

  “Then don’t meet anyone,” her mom said. “Not even a hideous ogre.”

  Cynthia laughed. “Okay, Mom. I won’t.”

  “You’re being careful, though, right?”

  “Of course.” She was close to her mom, but she wasn’t about to tell her about taking drugs. At least not for a few months, until it was too late for her mom to worry and scold her.

  “Good,” her mom said. “The other day, you said you were just getting home, and it must have been morning that day, too.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes. The last time we talked.”

  “Oh, gosh, no.” Cynthia laughed, waving the idea away. “I’d just been at Nick’s.”

  Her mom gave her a look over her glasses. “Nick is a boy, you know.”

  “Mom—no. Did you actually mean being careful, like, am I using protection? Seriously. Don’t ask that.”

  “I don’t want you to do anything that you’ll regret once you’re home. And you’re on vacation, you have permission to do what you wouldn’t normally do…”

  While they talked, Cynthia peeled skin off a broken blister on her heel. “Okay, Mom. Just, no. Trust me, I haven’t needed to be careful like that. Not even close. And with Nick? Mom. You know better.”

  “Don’t scold me,” her mom scolded. “I’m your mother, it’s my job to ask you these things.”

  “Well, I’m telling you. Don’t worry. You know me better than that.”

  “I know you sometimes get carried away with things…”

  “When you say it like that, it sounds like you think I’m going to get pregnant.”

  “And no more spending the night with your friend,” her mom said. “It’s not fair to him.”

  “Come on, Mom. It wasn’t like that. We’re just friends.”

  “No boy is just friends with a beautiful girl like you, sweetheart,” her mom said. “Unless he’s nuts, or gay. And I don’t think your friend is either of those things.”

  “You’re the one who’s nuts,” Cynthia said. “Maybe we flirt and stuff, but that’s it. Neither of us would risk our friendship.”

  “If you say so.”

  When they’d finished talking about school and other things, they hung up without mentioning the funeral. But it was all Cynthia could think about. She was determined not to let it take over her trip, though. She’d made her decision. So she called Maggie on video chat, but Maggie said she was about to have a call with Weston, and Kristina was out with Armani even though it wasn’t even dark yet. After a pause, Cynthia called Nick.

  “Hey,” he said. “Looking good there, sleepyhead.”

  “Oh, crap,” Cynthia said, laughing. She’d forgotten that she hadn’t brushed her hair, or even washed off last night’s makeup, yet.

  Nick laughed, too. “Don’t fix it because of me,” he said. “You know I like your bedhead.”

  “Okay, well, I was going to see if you wanted to go get breakfast at the café.”

  “You do know it’s evening, right?”

  “Okay, want to get dinner?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Are you asking me out?”

  “You wish.”

  “Oh, fine, if you insist,” he said. “Geez, Cynthia, you don’t have to beg. I know I’m a catch, but really. Stop already.”

  “You do know you’re ridiculous, right?” she asked, mocking his tone.

  “Ridiculously awesome, though?”

  “Ridiculously ridiculous. Let me get ready and I’ll meet you there in thirty.”

  “Take your time,” he said. “That hair might take a while.”

  “Shut up,” she said, laughing and trying to finger-comb her snarled mane. It had still been damp with sweat from the club when she went to bed, and she’d spent most of the day in a frustrated half-sleep, tossing and turning and trying to force her active mind to agree with her exhausted body and shut off. Now her hair was clumped together and standing up in a dozen different places, and when she cut the video call and went to the bathroom, she was further embarrassed by how hideous she looked with mascara circling her eyes like she’d been punched in the face. Well, at least she’d only talked to three people before realizing the state of her disarray.

  She took a quick shower to rinse all the clubbing off, reapplied fresh makeup, and headed out to meet Nick.

  *

  That Sunday, they went to see the Pope perform mass at the Vatican, which Cynthia knew her mom would have loved. Afterwards, they toured the Sistine Chapel and museums, and hung out with their study abroad group. As she stood staring up at the elaborate golden ceiling, her insides twisted with homesickness. She’d never wanted her mom beside her more than right now. And her mother had never seemed further. Even holding onto the globe necklace didn’t comfort her this time.

  “How you doing?” Nick asked beside her.

  “It’s gorgeous.”

  “Yeah.”

  For a minute, they stood studying Michelangelo’s masterpiece. Cynthia slipped her hand inside his elbow and leaned her head on his shoulder. His arm was warm and strong, and she kept holding onto it as they toured further inside, walking slowly and studying the intricate work of art. When they got back on the bus to leave, Cynthia sat down next to Kristina so she could spend some time with her other friends, and Nick sat a few rows back with some guys from class that she didn’t really know.

  “What are you doing to poor Nick?” Kristina asked.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Are you finally getting together?” Maggie asked, leaning across the aisle and lowering her voice. “I saw you holding hands inside.”

  “We weren’t holding hands,” Cynthia said. “I was holding onto his arm. And no, we’re not getting together. It would be too weird. We already know everything about each other.”

  “You know he likes you,” Kristina said. “You’re kind of leading him on.”

  “I am not,” Cynthia insisted. “I told him straight out that I only wanted to be friends, and he was fine with it. He agreed.”

  “Of course he did,” Maggie said. “You hurt his pride.”

  “I didn’t hurt his pride,” Cynthia said, rolling her eyes. “He’s not that kind of guy.”

  “All guys have pride,” Kristina said. “But whatever. It’s not my business if you hold hands with him one day and go out with someone else the next.”

  “You’re right,” Cynthia said. “It’s not. I know you can’t understand a guy and girl being just friends, because you don’t have guy friends like him, but there’s nothing between us, and you saying otherwise won’t change that fact. If you want him, he’s all yours. But don’t bitch at me for not wanting him when you don’t, either.” With that, Cynthia stood and moved up a couple rows to an empty seat, where she sat fuming all the way back.

  For the rest of the week, things were a little weird between all of them. They still sat together in class, and when they toured the Aqueducts, they walked around in their usual little group. But Kristina and Cynthia kept their distance, only making small talk. More annoying, Kristina’s comments had made Cynthia feel guilty about hanging out with Nick, so when he asked if she wanted to get lunch one day after class, she said she had to do homework and went back to her flat, where she stewed over what the
girls had said. They didn’t know. They didn’t have to worry about that kind of thing, because they were best friends with each other.

  Finally, on Thursday, when they gathered outside the building in their usual spot, Kristina said, “We’re going out again tonight if you wanna come.”

  “For sure,” Cynthia said, forgetting about their little tiff at the mention of going out. “Where are we going?”

  “I’ll ask Armani.” Kristina snuck a glance at Nick and then took a breath. “Do you want me to ask if Flavio is coming?”

  “He was a little pushy,” Cynthia said. “Is Danilo single? I’d go out with him.”

  “Well, aren’t we greedy?” Kristina said, but she was smiling. “I’ll ask. And I won’t say anything else about Nick. You’re right, that’s y’all’s deal.”

  “Thanks so much,” Cynthia said. Kristina had just put aside her own judgement to do something nice for her, and gotten her a date on top of it. So she added, “You’re awesome. I owe you one. Or, like, five. Anyway, let me know if Danilo’s going.”

  “Will do,” Kristina said. “Invite Nick, if you want.”

  “Of course.” Cynthia always brought Nick when she went out. It was sort of an assumed invitation, when someone asked her to go somewhere, that he would come, too. If it weren’t for her, she didn’t know if he’d ever go out. As far as she knew, all his friends were her friends. When he’d moved to Arkansas as a sophomore, she’d adopted him as her friend, taken him under her wing and introduced him to all her friends, since he didn’t have the benefit of starting as a freshman and meeting new people at the same time as everyone else.

  She said her goodbyes to the girls and joined Nick and Ned, who were standing in the shade of the building, talking.

  “Hey,” she said, nudging him with her elbow.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  “Ready to go?”

  They said goodbye to Ned and started towards their street.

  “We’re all going dancing again tonight,” Cynthia said.

  “Cool.”

  “Maybe you’ll meet a girl this time,” Cynthia said, feeling kind of guilty. “I can ask if Armani has any girl friends, if you want.”

  “I don’t need to meet girls,” he said, hooking his thumbs through his suspenders. “I have you.”

  “Well, I know,” she said. “You always have me. But I’m not a date.”

  He nudged her with his elbow. “You’d make an all right date.”

  “All right? I’ll have you know I’m an excellent date.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  “But I’m already spoken for,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “You’re too late.”

  “You and Flavio hit it off, huh?”

  “Actually, I think I’m hanging out with Danilo tonight. The other one.”

  “Well, have fun.”

  “What?” she asked, turning to him. “You’re not coming?”

  “I think I’ll skip it tonight.”

  “You can’t skip it,” she said. “We’re in Italy. You have to make the most of it.”

  “I am,” he said, stopping in front of her flat. “Actually, I have plans.”

  “Ooh, really?” she asked. “Did you already meet someone? Is it someone from class?”

  He shrugged. “No. I looked up my relatives. I’m going to visit them.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep. So, I guess I’ll see you this weekend. Have fun tonight. Be safe.” He leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the forehead before turning and striding off down the block. Cynthia stood on the sidewalk, wanting to call after him but knowing she should let him go and do his own thing. Even though she was the one going out partying, and he was just going to meet some distant family members, she suddenly felt like she was the one missing out.

  Chapter Eleven

  They went out to a club that night, and it was pretty much the same thing as the last time, except this time, she had a different date. Danilo wasn’t as good a dancer as Flavio. He was tall and clumsy, and they bumped together awkwardly while they danced, though he had his hands all over her the whole time. He also had terrible breath, and by the time the night was half over, she wished she’d stuck with loud and obnoxious Flavio again. Instead of being present in the date, she kept thinking about how she was going to spin it when she told Nick, and how she could get a good story out of it to make him laugh.

  She did that a lot at home—went on bad dates and laughed about it later with Nick. He’d even come to rescue her from a couple especially bad ones. He was more reserved about his dating stories, usually just telling her that the girl he’d been seeing wasn’t around anymore. She’d met a handful of them over the past couple years, sometimes going out with them and whatever guy she was seeing. But he never gave her the details.

  After the club, she managed to avoid Danilo’s kiss by turning her head at the last moment and getting it on the cheek. Even that made her need to hold her breath for a second to escape his sour breath. She left the tram and headed towards her flat, taking off her shoes and picking her way along the street, on the lookout for glass so she wouldn’t cut her feet. A black cat paused in its path, its big yellow eyes catching the light and reflecting back at her. She gave a little hiss so it would step back instead of crossing her path, and it slid back into a shadow.

  The morning was cool and damp, the sky already lightening. The usual hum of traffic was quieter than usual on a Saturday morning. As she walked, she imagined Nick sitting on her step when she got back, waiting to make sure she was okay before he went back to his host family. But when she turned onto her street, the doorway to her flat was empty. She stopped in front of it, tired but still wide awake. Whenever she stayed up all night, she always reached this flatness the next morning, calm as the surface of a lake at dawn, before she got tired.

  She continued on, checking the café on her way. Nick wasn’t there, either. While she was checking, she grabbed some coffee and pastries. She reached his Nick’s house, meaning to sit on his stoop and wait for him, but the lights were already on inside, so she knocked. His host mother let her in and said Nick was probably asleep but that Cynthia could check. In his room, she saw his bed stripped of everything but the sheet. But she knew where to find him.

  When she stuck her head out the window, she found him lying wrapped up in his blanket like a burrito. “Hey,” she said. “You awake?”

  His eyes opened, and for a second he blinked at her without full consciousness. He almost never took off his glasses, and his face looked naked without the black frames. After a second he gave her a sleepy morning smile. “What’s up?”

  “Just came to say good morning,” she said, clambering out the window while trying to simultaneously balance the coffee and pastries and avoid flashing him in her short dress.

  Nick sat up and scooted back to one end of the tiny balcony, fumbled for his glasses, and slipped them on. He stretched, smacked his lips, and smiled at her again, all bundled up in his blanket and looking strangely adorable with his hair sticking up in the back. “Coffee?”

  “This one’s yours,” she said, handing it over. “Nice and girlie, just the way you like it.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “So what’s up? What did I do to deserve this wakeup call?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just wasn’t tired, and I didn’t have anything better to do. I figured maybe you’d be up all night worrying about me, but it looks like you were too busy sleeping.” She jabbed his leg with her toe.

  He closed his hand around her foot. “Don’t worry, I cried myself to sleep,” he said. “Looks like you had a good night, though. Dance until dawn again?”

  “Yeah,” she said, handing him an Italian pastry before going into detail about the club, and Danilo, and how Armani had said that Flavio wouldn’t stop talking about her. When she’d finished her story, and her pastry, she waited for his response. He didn’t look jealous or mad, like he didn’t want to hear about it. He smiled in all the right places, and ate his p
astry, and sat wrapped in his blanket holding the coffee cup between his hands when he was done.

  “So what about you?” she asked after a bit of silence. “You went to see your family?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his whole face lighting up at once. “It was cool. They lived out in the country, maybe an hour away. I think I’m going to go back.”

  “Did they speak English?”

  “About as well as I speak Italian,” he said with a laugh. “So…no. But they have goats.”

  “Goats.”

  “Yeah. It reminded me of Arkansas.”

  “Not everyone in Arkansas has goats.”

  “Not everyone. But most of you.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “I’ve only ever seen a goat at the fair.”

  “I lived with my uncle for a year in high school, and he had goats. Maybe it runs in the family.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure goats run in your family.”

  “I actually think it made me miss home for the first time since I’ve been here.”

  “Wait a minute,” she said, pushing her toes against his leg again. “Did you just refer to Arkansas as home? I thought you couldn’t wait to graduate and move back to the city. Don’t tell me you’re going to settle down in Arkansas and be a country boy.”

  “Of course not,” he said. “Didn’t you hear my story? I’m going to inherit a house here. Once I learn to speak Italian, I’m like, one one-hundredth of the way there.”

  “Save the best room for me.”

  “I don’t know about the best room,” he said. “But you could definitely be the crazy lady in my attic. You’re already halfway there.”

  “Shut up,” she said, laughing and tossing a crumb at him. “Or I’ll marry Flavio and move him in the attic with me, and then you’ll never be able to sleep because he’s so loud.”

  Nick stopped smiling and looked down at the lid of his coffee, pressing at it with his thumb. “I don’t think I’m as okay with that as I thought I was.”