by J. J. Kapka
“Milady.” He came up to her, hooked his arm through hers, and led her to the doorway.
When they stepped out onto the stoop, Maddie gave a 180-degree turn of her head to try to see what Becker had meant by a carriage. Still, nothing jumped out at her to suggest anything of the kind.
Smiling like a little kid, he ushered her across the street and grandly swept his arm to indicate an olive-green Vespa parked on the sidewalk, with what appeared to be a picnic basket tethered to the back fender with a bungee cord.
Maddie laughed with a knowing nod. “Ah, my carriage.”
Becker let go of her arm to grab the two nondescript helmets dangling from the handlebars and handed the rust-colored one to Maddie.
“Surely you jest.” Maddie stood back, not daring to take the helmet. “You don’t expect us both to get on that little thing, do you?
Becker looked out at the street and pointed his hand at the many other Vespas darting in and out between all the cars. “When in Rome…”
Maddie erupted in peals of laughter at Becker’s apt justification. “Okay,” she said, “I give up. Give me that helmet.” Strapping it on, she asked, “Was there nothing in maybe a royal blue? You know, orange isn’t my best color.”
Arms on his hips, Becker gave her a sober once-over. “Madam looks delightful in any color,” he pronounced.
“Oh, you.” Maddie gave him a playful punch on the arm. “How the heck do we ride this thing, anyway?”
After a few short minutes of riding instructions, they soon found themselves zipping down the street with Maddie’s arms firmly grasped around Becker’s middle. She suddenly realized she had no idea where they were going, and any attempts to ask him were drowned out by the cacophony of traffic sounds all around them. As they wove in and out among the cars and trucks, Maddie began to grasp how scary and vulnerable she felt on the little Vespa. There didn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to the way people drove. They’d suddenly veer into another lane without warning, and several times, Becker was forced to brake abruptly to avoid running into a car that had haphazardly meandered into their lane.
Still, it felt rather refreshing to have the wind blowing in their faces and the sun warming their shoulders. It was the perfect day for a picnic. Gradually, the traffic eased, and Maddie sensed they were reaching the outskirts of the great city.
Becker signaled his turn-off, and they found themselves on a small road bordering the Tiber River. Stopping for a minute to consult a hand-drawn map and directions, Becker set off again, and shortly thereafter pulled onto a short dirt road that petered out at the edge of a wooded area.
After dismounting from the Vespa, Becker unfastened the picnic basket and took Maddie’s hand, guiding her into the trees until they came to a small glade that was still glistening with morning dew, thanks to the long patches of shade provided by the surrounding trees. He extracted a wool blanket from the picnic hamper, shook it out, and sat down. “Maddie, come join me.” He patted the ground next to him.
With a grin of anticipation, Maddie plopped down and eagerly looked over to the basket to see what Becker had in store for her.
With great fanfare, he extracted a bottle of red wine with the big round bottom encased in a straw basket with a straw handle. Next, he pulled out two plastic cups and handed them both to Maddie. He opened the wine and poured them both a cup before corking the bottle again and setting it aside. Finally, he pulled out a paper plate followed by a warm, crusty loaf of Italian bread and a knife to cut it.
This is looking good, Maddie was just beginning to think, when, inexplicably, Becker shut the hamper and started cutting the bread.
“What? That’s it?” Maddie asked. “That’s all you got for breakfast?”
“Ah, but that’s more than enough. ‘A loaf of bread, a jug of wine…and thou,’” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Actually, I don’t know if this bottle counts as a jug, but it’s the best I could do first thing in the morning.”
Maddie dissolved into appreciative laughter. “I love it,” she enthused. “A very good, romantic start.” She nodded encouragingly.
When the somewhat dull knife resulted in more damage to the bread than it produced edible pieces, they resorted to simply tearing off chunks and chewing them in between many sips of wine. The current of the river beyond the border of trees created a pleasant backdrop to accompany the busy chirping of the birds that flitted through the canopy of leaves.
Maddie had to admit that for such short notice, Becker had completely outdone himself finding a romantic destination and a poetic meal to go along with it. It was impressive, but of course, this was just a second date, if she counted last night’s rendezvous as the first. As nice as it was, she had no intention of being a pushover and made certain to confine their conversation to happy observations about the weather, the countryside, and Rome. She described the sites she’d visited in the city the day before, as Becker thirstily took in the details.
“You know,” he proposed, “as I mentioned last night, I haven’t exactly had much of a Grand Tour thus far. Aside from being sorry about how I treated you, I also have quite a few regrets about having missed the sites in the cities I’ve been to. Would it bother you much to be my tour guide and show me all those wonderful places you already visited?”
“That’s a terrific idea. Quite often when I was touring London, I kept catching myself making mental comments to you. I had to stop myself from dwelling on how nice it would have been to share those things with you. Yet,” she felt compelled to add, “at the same time, I found myself visiting things that you probably wouldn’t have wanted to do. It was a good feeling to know that I could just go off and do things like that. Usually, in the past, we would always do just the things that you wanted to do, and you were pretty dismissive when I’d try to get you to do something else.”
“Are you trying to tell me I was a bully?” Becker asked.
“Not so much a bully, more like close-minded. I think some of the things I saw in London that I know you wouldn’t have wanted to do, you really would have enjoyed, if you’d have given them a chance.” Swirling her wine in her glass, Maddie added, “So—tomorrow, will you be happy just following me around, regardless of where we go?”
“As madam wishes,” Becker said solemnly.
“Oh, you.” Maddie grinned at his formality.
When the sun came directly overhead, Becker and Maddie moved their blanket over to the shade of a tree on the bank of the nearby river. The expansive trunk of the weeping willow provided sufficient shade and a secure place to sit while they dangled their bare feet in the swirling waters. Lounging by Becker’s side, Maddie quietly contemplated how quickly their lives had changed. Before long, the lulling hum of the cicadas, combined with the soporific effects of drinking a bottle of wine for breakfast, resulted in both of them dozing off.
Sleeping contentedly side by side, their bodies unconsciously assumed their old spooning position. The ease in tensions contributed to a good sound nap, from which they finally stirred when a small motorboat buzzed loudly by, startling them awake. Maddie, upon seeing how her limbs had co-joined with Becker’s, immediately pulled away. She didn’t want to give Becker the impression that he was out of the woods yet. He’s made a damn good start, though, she thought.
Not wanting to rush things, Maddie asked Becker to return her to her hotel, demurring when he suggested they stay together and go out to dinner.
It was clear that Becker aimed to please and even sensed that so much as a peck on the cheek might be going too far at this early stage. With a happy wave, he puttered off on the Vespa, leaving Maddie to ruminate on her situation.
She found herself astounded that Becker had gone along with her suggestion of courting so easily. She’d honestly expected a fight or an ultimatum. His eagerness to please was certainly a good sign that he had his regrets. But it was still too early to be sure he was willing to go the distance.
~~~
July 20
“So, what’d you do with your carriage today?”
Becker had just shown up at her hotel at their agreed-upon time, and after stepping out onto the sidewalk, Maddie searched impishly for the Vespa.
“You didn’t expect me to spoil you with too much luxury straight out of the starting gate, did you?” Becker asked mischievously.
“Ah, you have a point there,” Maddie agreed. “Should I lead you on foot, or do you want to take the subway?”
“That won’t be necessary.” Becker grinned from ear to ear. “I managed to snag us a little rental car for the day.”
Maddie craned her neck, searching the street for whatever the Italian equivalent of a Ford Escort might be, but didn’t see any likely candidates.
Becker laid his hand on the small of her back and guided her down to the corner. They turned down a little side street, and he led her to a gleaming red Ferrari—a convertible at that.
Maddie gasped. “Are you out of your mind? We…you…can’t afford this.”
“Nothing but the best for the third date, my dear,” Becker said with a wink and a nudge. “You know what they say about third dates, don’t you?”
Maddie was surprised to find herself blushing. She couldn’t believe Becker had been so extravagant. “I’m afraid to ask how much this cost.”
“Well, I figured I had some lost time to make up for, and just for the one day…” He trailed off, before adding, “Besides, I knocked the rental agency down to rock bottom by staying up all last night and waxing every car in their lot.”
Maddie only shook her head, while Becker opened her door and helped her slide into the soft black leather seat, which was so low-slung it almost scraped the ground. “I’ve never been in a car like this in my entire life,” she observed.
“Me neither, which is why I figured it was about time. Don’t forget: when in Rome…”
“You’re big on that ‘when in Rome’ business, aren’t you?” Maddie glanced over with a smile.
“And that’s not all.” Becker reached over and popped open the glove box, from which he extracted a large pair of Sophia Loren-style sunglasses and a scarf, the likes of which Maddie hadn’t seen since a fifties-era Grace Kelly movie.
“Surely you don’t expect me to put these on,” Maddie complained. “I’ll look like some starlet who got lost on the way to Cinecittà.”
“Suit yourself,” Becker replied with a shrug, simultaneously throwing the car into first gear and roaring out of the parking slot. Five minutes later, they were flying down the Via Veneto. Becker clearly enjoyed the maneuverability of the car and showed it by dodging in and out of lanes like the best of the daredevil Romans.
The wind whipped Maddie’s hair into her eyes, along with dust from the streets. By the next time Becker stopped at a red light, she shrugged her shoulders in acquiescence and donned the glasses and the scarf, turning to Becker to model her new look.
Becker laughed from behind his own shades. “You look mahvahlous, my dear.”
Maddie grinned. “Would it be frightfully forward of me to inquire as to our destination?”
“Not at all, not at all. In fact, you already guessed correctly.”
Maddie furrowed her brow. She hadn’t guessed anything at all. All they’d done was get in this incredible car, and then he’d handed her the scarf and… “Are you serious? We’re going to Cinecittà?”
“Yep,” Becker conceded. “They only started letting people in recently, on certain days. I thought it’d be kind of fun, in a romantic way, of course,” he couldn’t resist adding.
“But I thought you wanted me to take you around to the usual tourist spots today,” Maddie said.
Becker smiled. “Yes, but on second thought, I couldn’t resist showing off my beautiful wife in this convertible. We can see the other stuff later.”
When they pulled up to the parking lot, Maddie began to remove the glasses and scarf.
“No, you mustn’t,” Becker said in horror. “That’s the ultimate Cinecittà costume. C’mon, you’ve got to leave it on. Everyone’ll think I’m with Sophia Loren.”
Caught up in Becker’s high energy, Maddie decided to humor him. “And who are you going to be?”
“The powerful—but unknown—producer who has spent his whole career lovingly promoting your career through countless phone calls to director friends, trying to get them to cast you in their films.”
“But you don’t put me in your own films,” Maddie said indignantly, playing along.
“No, no. My films are high-end art, with a paltry but appreciative audience of cinéastes. Not anywhere near the level of production which your charismatic talent deserves.”
“I see,” Maddie mused. “I can live with that.” She offered him her hand. “Shall we?”
Giving the car a loving goodbye pat, they walked up to the studio entrance and spent the rest of the morning entranced with the tour of the famous back lots. They saw everything from parts of the old Ben-Hur and spaghetti Western sets to replications of Venice, and even New York. Since neither of them had ever been to the studios in Hollywood, they’d never had a chance to see the behind-the-scenes operations of the movie industry. There always seemed to be a film in production blocking off streets in New York, but the artifice on display here was quite another thing from the gritty realism that producers sought from New York. Although initially self-conscious about her getup, after seeing the extras roaming the lots in all kinds of movie garb, Maddie gave in to the spirit of the moment.
Before leaving, they had lunch at the restaurant on the lot and then returned to the red Ferrari. Becker ran his hand lovingly along the hood. “I really didn’t have anything planned for the rest of the day, but it seems a shame to let a car like this go to waste in the city. How about we find the nearest Autostrada and give it a good run?”
Maddie laughed. “Forget the car. We can’t let this outfit go to waste.”
Becker needed no further encouragement. Pedal to the floor, he gleefully took the car up and down the various Autostradas that encircled the city. Since it wasn’t rush hour, they had the run of the road, but for the occasional slow-moving trucks.
Maddie leaned back, absolutely exhilarated as the wind rushed about them and the sun beat down on their heads, arms, and legs. An added guilty pleasure came from the envious glances of the other motorists they passed. Whatever Becker had paid for the car, Maddie had to admit it was worth it for this experience. Never in her life did she imagine herself zipping along an Italian highway in a Ferrari convertible. What a day.
As the road started filling up with commuters, they reluctantly conceded they should head back to Rome. Becker asked Maddie if she’d join him for dinner. “I have to return the car by six p.m.,” he said, “but I can drop you off on the way to the rental company.” That would give them both time to shower, change, and get back out for a meal by the time the sun started setting, giving the day a chance to cool off a bit.
Maddie was surprised by how quickly and eagerly she said yes. She’d been pleasantly impressed by how well Becker had taken to the task of wooing her back again. She felt her carefully erected defenses starting to crack already. At least she’d have some time to collect her breath and come back down to earth a bit before he came to pick her up.
~~~
July 20—Evening
Becker came to retrieve Maddie by 9:00 p.m., and the two strolled around aimlessly, arm in arm, looking for a restaurant that had not only good food, but more important, a suitable ambiance for a couple intent on rekindling their relationship. After about half an hour of encountering any number of places that were not quite right, they finally hit upon a small trattoria that seemed to meet their requirements perfectly. It was set back in an alley with windows looking out onto a quiet courtyard instead of the crowded street. Candles glowed at each small table, and there was sufficient distance between the tables that they didn’t have to rub elbows with their neighbors. The place quietly hummed with the hushed conversations of couples l
eaning in toward each other, holding hands.
The waiter led them to a table tucked into a corner, where they settled onto two large but cozy plush seats. Both starving, the fresh air having brought out their appetites, they decided to order soup: pasta e fagioli for Maddie, minestrone for Becker. They eagerly dipped into the basket of fresh bread the waiter brought with their red wine. By the time the soups arrived five minutes later, they were deep into conversation about how much fun their day had been.
Becker shook his head at the memory of how giddily they’d embraced their “Lives of the Rich and Famous” day. “Oh, Maddie, I just wish I could take back everything I said in London, and let us start from scratch right there. Just think how much fun we could have been having all along.”
Surprising even herself, Maddie shook her head, “I disagree. It may sound strange coming from me at this point, but in some ways, what you did in London might have been just what we needed.”
Becker drew back in disbelief and waited for Maddie to continue.
“We’d have just gone on as always, and you might never have told me the feelings that made you want to leave me. How many more years would we have plodded on with our old routines?”
“But…”
“The other good thing was the way it opened up a whole new world to me. It was tough going at first, but it really made me come out of my shell and forced me to experience things, and people, that I wouldn’t have been open to without having been shocked into it.”
Becker looked incredulous. “You mean you’re saying you’re glad we broke up?”
”No, not exactly that. I wish you’d spoken up much sooner, when you first had feelings along those lines. Maybe back in New York, we could have done a lot more to try to make things right. Telling me on the first evening of a round-the-world trip, that was unforgivable. Almost. I’m just saying that in the end, I made the most of it anyway, and I’m glad I did. I didn’t just mope around and pull out my hair. I forged ahead and learned a lot about myself.”
“How exactly did you do that?” Becker asked. “I mean, you heard all about what I did after that night, but I haven’t heard anything yet about what you did.”