“I’m not really going to marry Flavio.”
“No, about you dating those guys.”
She stared at him a minute, and at last, he tore his eyes away from his coffee and met her gaze. “You can’t tell me who to date,” she said slowly.
“I’m not,” he said. “But I’m also not okay with it.”
“What does that mean?” Her heart was suddenly pounding, and she felt like she couldn’t swallow right. This must be a dream.
“It means…I don’t think I’m okay with you dating other people.”
“But we’re not dating,” she said. “Me and you are not dating. We’re just friends. So how can you not be okay with me dating other people? I’m not dating you.”
“I know that.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “Maybe I’m not such a nice guy after all.”
“What are you saying? I’m not going to stop hanging out with other people. You can’t ask me to do that.”
“I’m not,” he said. “But I don’t have to be there when you do.”
“You can’t do this,” she said, her voice cracking. “I need you.”
“What do you need me for?” he asked, cocking his head to one said. “You have other friends. You have other guys who you’d rather go out and have fun with. What am I doing hanging around, besides bringing you down, like you said.”
“That’s not fair. And I didn’t say that. I said I wanted adventure.”
“And I’m not stopping you. Go have your adventures. I’ll have mine. We’ll still be friends. That’s what you want, right?”
“I asked you if you were okay with me going out with those guys, and you said you were. And you can’t tell me who to date. You’re not my dad.”
The words hung in the air between them like a noose.
Cynthia scrambled to her feet and stood at the other end of the balcony, but it still felt like she was looming over him. It was too close, too small. She needed to be further away.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry, too,” she said. “Thanks for ruining this trip. I have to go.”
“Cynthia.”
“Save it,” she snapped. She swung back through his window, into his room, and ran down the stairs. When she stepped outside, she realized she’d left her shoes on his balcony, but she wasn’t about to go back up. She started back towards her flat, not turning back even when she heard his voice from the balcony.
“Cynthia, wait,” he called. “I’m sorry.”
She paused, considered asking for her shoes, and then hurried away without looking back.
*
This time, she fell into a deep sleep and didn’t wake until evening. When she finally dragged herself out of bed, everything that had happened that morning came back in stark, two-dimensional pictures. She’d been sleep deprived and wired, but it all seemed like a dream now, like it had happened to someone else. And so fast. One minute she’d been talking and laughing with Nick, joking around how they always did, and the next minute, he’d dropped a bomb on her. Kristina had warned her—even her mom had warned her—but it still felt like it had come out of the blue. Like he’d betrayed her.
He’d come on the trip as her friend, said he’d always be there for her. He’d even said he was okay with her going out with those guys. And then suddenly, he just…wasn’t. She didn’t know how to deal with that.
It wasn’t as if she’d never considered it. In fact, she’d considered it so many times, and everyone had assumed so many times, that she was annoyed at having to think about it yet again. Nick wasn’t some exciting stranger. No one would be surprised if they got together. Probably, no one would even notice. They’d drift together, until one day they realized they were pretty much already dating, and they’d stop denying it when people asked. She’d always thought that if it ever happened, it would just happen naturally.
Not like a bomb being dropped in the middle of Rome.
Chapter Twelve
After sending a few emails and a video call or two, Cynthia was able to get all her friends together at a bar near the university. When Kristina had needed them, they rallied and gave her advice, and even though Cynthia hadn’t known any of them long, she didn’t have anyone else to turn to. She wasn’t sure how much they could help, seeing as Maggie had been dating the same guy since she was in diapers, Kristina had gotten dumped at the airport, and Rory was usually taking guy advice rather than offering it.
“So, what happened?” Maggie asked, pouring herself a glass of white wine from the bottle they’d ordered to share.
“I don’t even know,” Cynthia said. “I just wanted to come here and have fun and see everything Rome has to offer. And then my dad…and now Nick…”
“Nick died?” Rory asked, her eyes going even wider behind her glasses.
“No, I just mean…everything is falling apart.”
“So Nick professed his undying love, and you blew him off like usual, and he finally grew a pair and told you to get lost?” Kristina guessed.
“Not exactly,” Cynthia said. She ordered a beer and proceeded to tell them the very short version of what had transpired that morning.
“Let me get this straight,” Kristina said when Cynthia had finished. “You dumped Nick for Armani’s friends? You don’t even like them.”
“I know,” she said. “I feel so bad. But I don’t like him, either. Not like that.”
“Then why did you want to come on this trip with him?” Maggie asked. “He probably got the wrong idea.”
“But don’t you see,” Cynthia said. “I never gave him the wrong idea. We’ve been friends for years.”
“How long are you planning to keep the poor guy in the friend zone?” Kristina asked.
“I don’t know.” Cynthia flagged the bartender for another beer, then said, “He’s not really in the friend zone. We’re best friends. There’s a difference.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I don’t want to lose him.”
“But you don’t want to date him.”
“No.”
“Why not?” Rory asked, looking genuinely perplexed. “He’s adorable.”
“Good question,” Kristina said. “Nick’s a nice guy, Cynthia. Really nice.”
“Maybe I don’t want adorable and nice,” Cynthia said. “Maybe I want heart-stopping romance and passion. Like you have with Armani.”
“Armani’s kind of a jerk,” Kristina said, refilling her wine glass from the bottle.
“What? You’ve been saying he’s the perfect guy since the moment we got here.”
“I know,” Kristina said. “But turns out, he’s not. Don’t get me wrong, he’s tons of fun.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“I thought so, too,” Kristina said. “But maybe I want more.”
“He lives in Rome. What more can you have?”
Kristina shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. He didn’t treat me like a priority, so I’m done.”
“Well, if you want a nice guy, Nick’s available,” Cynthia said, finishing off her beer.
“Really?” Kristina asked, turning to her. “You wouldn’t be mad if I asked Nick out?”
“Wait, you’re serious?” She hadn’t meant anything by it. Just that it seemed like she had the guy Kristina wanted, and Kristina had the guy she wanted.
“Don’t act so shocked. Nick’s a great guy. The only reason I never flirt with him is because I thought you liked him. But now that you’ve dumped him…”
“I didn’t dump him,” Cynthia said, stamping wet circles on the bar with the bottom of her beer mug. “Not exactly.”
“He gave you an ultimatum and you didn’t pick him,” Maggie pointed out.
“It wasn’t like that. He didn’t ask me to stop seeing other guys. He just said he wasn’t going to hang out with me when I did.”
“So he can hang out with me,” Kristina said. “We’ll have fun,
he’ll treat me like a queen, and you can have Flavio and Danilo.”
“Yay,” Cynthia said faintly.
“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” Maggie asked, her face a mask of concern.
“No,” Cynthia admitted. “What if you date him, and it doesn’t work out?”
“We’re not dating,” Kristina said. “We’re just hanging out. And even if we do end up getting together, I’ll still be friends with you afterwards, and y’all will still be friends. I just won’t hang out with him.”
“Yeah, but it will be awkward. That’s why I never dated him.”
“Okay, you’re making too big a deal about this,” Kristina said. “I just want to go out and have fun a couple more times while we’re here, mostly just so Armani won’t think I’m sitting around crying over him.”
“So you’re just using Nick?”
“How’s that different from what you do?”
Cynthia started to speak, but she was too mad. She held up her glass, and the bartender made her way down to fill it. “I’m not using Nick,” Cynthia said after taking a sip of beer. “He’s my best friend.”
“And now he doesn’t have a friend to hang out with, so I’m taking him off your hands for a few weeks. You don’t have to feel guilty about ditching him in Rome, and I’ll have a cute bestie to go out with when I need a date.”
“That’s what you say now,” Cynthia said. “But what happens when you fall in love with him?”
Kristina laughed. “I’m not going to fall in love with him.”
“You might not think so, but you will.”
“Sounds to me like you’re in love with him. Otherwise, why do you care? You should want him to be happy.”
“I do.”
“Really? Because I think you don’t want him, but you don’t want anyone else to have him, because then he won’t be there when you decide you want him. You can’t keep him on the back burner forever. Eventually, he’s going to want someone who cares about him, too. Whether it’s me or someone else.”
“I care about him. I want him to be happy, too. I even told him to meet a cute Italian girl.”
“So you just don’t him to hang out with me.”
“Ladies, ladies,” Maggie said. “Are we really having a catfight over a guy neither of you really wants?”
Kristina ignored her and went on. “Maybe you should think about someone else for a change, Cynthia. Maybe he wants to go out and have some fun instead of having to watch you have all the fun while he waits for you to realize he’s amazing. But I guess you already know, and you still don’t want him. So I’m going to ask him out.”
“You don’t even know if he’ll go. You might not care about messing up our friendship, but he will.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?”
“No. I don’t. Ask away.”
“Good. I will. And if he says yes, and you don’t like it, then maybe we shouldn’t be friends. Because I don’t think you’re a very nice person. You want to drag a poor guy around the world and give him false hope so he won’t leave, so he’ll always come running when you snap your fingers. You’re lucky he kept you around this long. You don’t deserve him.”
Cynthia jumped up, but Maggie held out an arm and pushed her back. “Okay, okay, you both need to chill. Nick is not worth this.”
“We’ll see,” Kristina said, tossing her blonde ponytail.
Though she wanted nothing more than to smack the smirk right off Kristina’s face, Cynthia took the high road and stomped out instead. She walked home, relishing the burn of her flip-flop rubbing the blister on her little toe. Every step she took, the flair of pain fueled her fury at Kristina’s unfair words. She wanted to call Nick and warn him, tell him that Kristina was just using him to get back at her. But she was mad at Nick, too, so she continued fuming instead.
When she got home, it was nearly dark, but she had no one to go out with that night. Instead, she curled up in the nest of pillows on her bed and Skyped her mom. Her mom listened without comment while Cynthia rehashed her fight with Nick again, and added the one with Kristina. “The whole trip is going to hell,” she said when she’d finished. “You’d think my friends would be a little sympathetic, considering what happened to Dad.”
“You’re right,” her mother said. “I’m sure they feel terrible. But you can’t use your father’s death as an excuse for behaving badly.”
Cynthia stared at her mother like she’d never seen her before. “Excuse me?”
“Sweetheart, I know it’s hard for you to be there. And I’m sure your friends know it, too. They’ll forgive you if you ask. But you’re expecting them to give you a free pass to treat everyone else badly because you’re in pain. That’s not fair to them, is it?”
“Oh my God, Mom. I can’t believe you’re taking their side.”
“I’m not taking their side,” her mother said, her voice even. “But I’m also not going to tell you’re being a great friend, and they’re all being unreasonable.”
“They are being unreasonable.”
“If Nick doesn’t want to go out with you, that’s his choice. And if he wants to go out with your friend, that’s also his choice. You can’t control other people.”
“I’m not trying to,” Cynthia snapped, although she wasn’t entirely certain. “And don’t say it like Nick going out with me is the same as Nick going out with her.”
“It is the same,” her mom said. “Isn’t it? They’re going out as friends, you said.”
“But you weren’t there,” Cynthia said. “You didn’t see her face, or hear the way she said it. Like she was going to hook up with him just to hurt me.”
“If you don’t want him, why would it hurt you? Don’t you want your friend to be happy?”
“No, she was saying it just to hurt me. Never mind. You don’t get it.”
“No, I don’t,” her mom said. “You’re right. I’m not there. I’m here, working two jobs, like always. Just like I have been for the last twenty years. And you’re in Rome. Halfway across the world. With a chance to do things and see things, a chance I never had. You’re so blessed, Cynthia. Don’t waste your trip on nonsense.”
“It doesn’t feel like nonsense when it’s happening to you.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t. But you’re a big girl. Do the right thing. Then go out and have some fun. Don’t spend your trip hiding in your room, calling your mommy to tell her that the girls at school were mean to you again.”
Cynthia felt like she’d been slapped. It was true that she’d spent the first year of high school hiding in her room, hating the world. She’d had friends growing up, but suddenly, when she reached high school, she no longer fit. She was too Mexican for the white kids, too white for the Mexican kids. The rejection was like a knife in the back. Instead of trying to fit in, she’d settled for reading books and dreaming of going to college just to spite everyone who thought she couldn’t, or that if she did, she’d be selling out.
“I can’t believe you just said that,” she said, her voice shaking.
“And I can’t believe you’re wasting your trip drinking and causing drama. That’s not what you went to Italy for.”
“You know what else I didn’t go for? You. It’s my trip. It’s my life. I can do whatever I want with it.”
With that, she cut the connection, punched her pillow until she was out of breath, then fell onto her bed and screamed into her pillow until she was hoarse.
Chapter Thirteen
Since all her friends were mad at her, Cynthia didn’t bother contacting anyone before setting out the next day. If she was going to see anything that day, she’d have to go it alone. It had rained during the night, and the air was cool as she walked from the tram stop to Piazza Navona. Each car that passed left a spray of dirty water from the wet street as it went by, and soon her feet were wet and cold inside her sandals. She pulled her cardigan closed around herself and walked more quickly until she came out in the huge, cobbled piazza
.
The three fountains in the center drew her eye, and she sidestepped a bicyclist and a couple more tourists to approach the Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi, or fountain of four flames, which she and her mother had marked on her list of things she couldn’t miss. She wasn’t partying and drinking away her whole trip, like her mom said. Even when her friends were mad at her, she’d still come out to see the city alone.
Bernini’s famous sculptures filled the large, round basin of the fountain—nude forms sprawled across mythical beasts, water trickling serenely over their white marble features. Slowly, she made her way around the fountain, looking up at a figure lunging from the water, looming over her. An eerie sense of wonder crept over her as she studied the woman’s lifelike face.
Suddenly, the loud gong of church bells rang out over the piazza. Cynthia startled, then laughed at herself for being jumpy. No one was there to poke fun at her, like Nick would have done. It was just her and a couple with two kids, who weren’t even looking her way. She turned and gazed across the fountain at the elaborate facade of the Sant’Agnese in Agone Church, which stood sentry over the plaza, its dome and towers shining in the sunlight that had broken through the clouds at last.
Cynthia looked over her sundress and sandals, thinking she should probably not go into a conservative church with her knees showing. But she had a cardigan, and all in all, looked pretty decent. Since it was Sunday, she would be able to catch a service, even if she had missed mass. Inside the church, the dark walls and carpets, the stained glass panels and prayer candles, made her ache with familiarity. The long and somber services of the church had always bored her as a child, but she’d appreciated them more once she left for school. She tried to go home at least once or twice a month to attend the service with her mom.
She stood before the candles for a few minutes before selecting one. Heavenly Father, watch over my earthly father. She lit the candle, slipped a few euros into the donation box, and followed a few people into the service. Even though she didn’t speak the same language as most of the people in attendance, she could clumsily translate enough Italian to Spanish to understand. Instead of focusing on the sermon, though, she closed her eyes and let the peace of the sanctuary sink over her.
When In Rome...Lose Control: Cynthia's Story Page 10