Tales From a Broad

by Melange Books, LLC

  I glanced over my shoulder, and once I knew that I was alone, I bent down to rest my hands on my knees. I felt like a marathon runner who had just crossed the finish line. My chest was tight, and I struggled to release the breath I’d been holding. I spit at the ground several times, hoping to rid myself from the taste of that nasty kid. I took a tissue out of my bag and licked it fast and furiously.

  “Ack,” I groaned while moving little pieces of tissue around my mouth with my tongue.

  I saw a taxi idling across the street. The little red walking man was on the sign, but since there were no cars coming, I began to run. I was about one foot into a sprint when someone yanked me back onto the sidewalk.

  Oh, sweet Jesus, I was being mugged. I’d read that crime was rising in Germany, but right outside a major tourist attraction? Please don’t kill me. How will Tess ever find me? What if she thought I ditched her in a foreign country?

  I snapped my head around to look at my assailant. I was momentarily taken aback when I stared into the beady eyes of a policeman. He was a big, burly guy with puffy cheeks and blond hair that curled around a very scary looking hat. He looked like an evil doll come to life. Still, the alternative was worse.

  “Oh, thank God! You scared me,” I cried.

  He shouted something in German, and I cringed as I clasped my hands together. I looked around and all I saw was a teenager who was leaning against a nearby building, his ears stuffed with headphones.

  “Ich verstehe nicht?” I ventured. I clenched my teeth and prayed I retained the three words I read earlier in my guidebook. They meant “I don’t understand” and it was one of the few phrases I really did understand.

  He narrowed his beady eyes and pulled a pad from his pocket. “Jaywalking is illegal. Do you understand that?” he announced in a heavy accent.

  “Yes, sir.” Something pounded inside my head as I nodded.

  “You cross like this in America?”

  “No. I don’t feel well, and I am having...” I paused to swallow a sour taste that had reappeared in my throat. “A bad night.” My eyes watered, and I blinked several times to stop the tears from falling.

  “Well, do not do it again.” He wagged one of his pudgy fingers and tucked the pad back into his pocket.

  I knew if I opened my mouth to speak, the tears would flow faster than a beer on tap. I nodded again and made the hand signal for ok. I connected my thumb and forefinger into a circle and held the other fingers straight up.

  “Really?” he said. His beady eyes bulged and his face reddened as he spoke. “I need to see your identification.” He whipped out his pad again and clicked the pen open with rage.

  I couldn’t even imagine what I did to make him so upset. I hastily took out my passport and handed it to him. He snatched it from my hands and began to scribble wildly.

  “Don’t insult the polizei,” he spat. He tore a ticket from his pad and waved it in front of my nose.

  “I didn’t.” I accepted it reluctantly, and he strutted away, looking like a ten-pound bratwurst stuffed into a five-pound bag. I looked down at the ticket.

  “What the ... one hundred euros!” I cried aloud.

  “You gave him the driver’s salutation,” said the teenager in a nonchalant tone, as he pulled his ear buds out of his ears and held his fingers up in the same sign I had made moments earlier.

  “The ok sign?” I held my hands up in the air. “Why did that make him mad? I was agreeing with him and promising never to do it again.”

  “It means arsehole,” the teen said smugly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “That’s what you called him.” The guy shrugged and put his headphones back on.

  My mouth fell open, and I stood on the sidewalk completely dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

  He closed his eyes and began to play the air guitar. Dipshit.

  Feeling like the biggest arsehole that ever lived, I crossed the street and got into the taxi.

  The driver made a u-turn and pulled up next to the one-man band. He had apparently moved on to drums and shook his wrists in the air.

  We locked eyes and when the light turned green I gave him a sweet smile and flashed the ok sign as we pulled away.

  * * * *

  “Stop,” Tess hissed in a loud whisper from the top bunk. We were back at the hostel and one of our roommates, a Japanese student, had fallen asleep with a book on her chest. “You actually threw up?”

  “Yep.” I dried my hair and hung the towel off of the railing on her bed. I tossed my toiletries bag onto the bottom bunk. “So, that’s why I left you. I hope you understand. I was totally—”

  Tess held up a hand. “Say no more, Aunt Lu. I hope you ruined that loser’s birthday.”

  “Let’s just hope someone bought the guy a bra. He’s the one who should have been ticketed for walking around with his big ol’ man boobs.”

  “Zits and moobies? Wow. And you thought he was Simon? How exactly?” Tess picked up her pillow and covered her face.

  I could see her shoulders shaking with laughter. I stepped onto my bed and reached up to take the ticket that sat on hers. I tapped Tess on the head with it and jumped down to the floor.

  “I’m sorry,” she giggled. “And I’m even sorrier about that.” She made a face and pointed to the ticket. “I say rip it up. You’ve already paid the price.”

  “Wait, there’s more. After I called you, I went straight to the showers. I needed to wash my sins down the drain. You know how I feel about communal showers—get wet and jet. Well, no one was there so I decided to take the time to catch up on all of my grooming.”

  “Okay...” Tess reached into her backpack hanging from a hook on the bed and pulled out a bag of M&M’s. She tore it open and offered it to me.

  I shook my head. “Well, I was enjoying my solitude so much, I guess I just got a little lost in thought. By the time I shut the water off, I saw I had over-shaved during my musings and I was no longer alone. There were three other women present, and all eyes were on me.”

  “I had gone into the shower already feeling like a dirty old woman. I seriously feel like I have been violated on so many levels.”

  “Ew,” Tess cried. She folded over the bag of candy and stuffed it back into her bag. “How did you not notice them? What the heck were you thinking about?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “I was just reflecting on who I was becoming on this short trip.”

  Tess raised an eyebrow and waited for me to elaborate.

  “Well, I left New York feeling like a total loser, and now here I am, trying new things, chasing the illusion of Simon, of all people, in places I never dreamed I would ever be,” I said. “Maybe I was wrong about myself and who I really was when I was with Cooper. I really don’t think I should have—”

  “Should have what?” Tess sat up straighter, and the top of her head grazed the ceiling.

  Oh, I don’t know. I really don’t think I should have just walked away from Simon. I really don’t think I should have invited Cooper to come. I really don’t think I should have opened my big fat mouth to Tess ... something stopped me from confiding in my niece completely.

  “I don’t think I should have ... bared my accidental Brazilian bikini line tonight.” I forced a chuckle and climbed into the bottom bed.

  Tess’s head appeared next to me as she hung upside down like a bat. “You know, you should write an article on that—trends for pubic hair all around the globe.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “No thanks. I’d rather not research that one. My evening may have inspired another article though. Gestures in different cultures.”

  “You know, I’ve been thinking, would you ever consider writing a book?”

  “Me? Write a book?”

  “Why not? You love to write and are so good at it.”

  “Tess, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I’m a magazine writer. I don’t have what it takes to write a book.”

  “You always sell yourself sho
rt,” Tess said, shaking her head. “Just like you did when you were with Cooper.” Her honey blonde hair looked like a curtain as it fell across her face.

  “I think I’ll just stick to magazine articles for now,” I replied, ignoring her comment about Cooper. “Like the one I just mentioned. This way, at least I’ll have someone to invoice for this ticket, to cover the cost of my alleged road rage,” I scoffed. “I seriously should’ve told that fatty to go eat another schnitzel.”

  I placed my hands on the side of my head and massaged my temples. “Well, here’s to new experiences. Strange kisses, peepshows... Who knows what Italy will bring.”

  Tess’s eyes shone with excitement, and I heard her giggle as she tucked herself back into the bed above me.

  I lay back and tapped the bottom of Tess’s bed with my foot. “Hey, what’s so funny up there?”

  “Oh, nothing. You just make me laugh. Good night, Aunt Lu.”

  “Good night,” I sang in a suspicious tone.

  I was happy to see her in a better mood and wished I could say the same for myself. I didn’t know what Italy would bring, but I sure knew who it would bring, and I was starting to feel anxious about seeing Cooper again.

  Deciding that I would channel my anxiety into my next article for Janice, I rolled over to reach into my bag for my laptop.

  Sex Six Tips for the Single Girl in Europe

  By Lucy Banks

  One letter can make all the difference in the world or around the world. If someone in France warns you something is high vat, it may trim your travel budget, but it certainly won’t make you thin. Six more things you need to know:

  1. Burberry isn’t always the best choice in London. No matter how badly you want to break out your beloved plaid, don’t do it.

  2. Berets aren’t cool in France unless you want to look like an American.

  3. In France, high heel ankle boots with short shorts aren’t just for hookers. If your boots were made for walking, pack ‘em. Just don’t try this at home. Style non-transferrable.

  4. In If it’s a simple cup of coffee that you want, café Americano is what you need to order. Europeans take coffee to a very dark place.

  5. In Not all gestures are created equal. Steer clear of signing unless you do your homework first. Gesturing “okay” isn’t always. In Germany, it’s an insult, and in Greece it means homosexual. And in certain parts of Europe, “thumbs up” gets a serious “thumbs down”.

  6. In The same goes for words. Don’t try to get fancy. Kussen means kiss in Dutch and vagina in Danish. If a guy tells you he wants your kussen, tell him to kiss your ass.

  Chapter Twelve

  Pensione living is a nice compromise between hostel chills and hotel frills.

  Facebook Status June 12 at 1:30pm

  Tess and I arrived in Florence at about one o’clock the next afternoon. From the moment we pulled into the Santa Maria Novella Station, a wave of excitement washed over me. Both sets of my grandparents had been born in Sicily, four hundred miles from where I stood. I was actually in the country of my family’s origin! I belonged here.

  We walked off the train, and I had goose bumps as I heard the beautiful sounds of Italian filling the air. The station was alive, as people greeted loved ones with cheerful salutations, tight embraces, and double kisses. The body language that surrounded us was almost louder than the kind that could be heard.

  I wanted to shout, “I’m one of you!” but I couldn’t. I didn’t speak the language. It had always been on my list of things to do one day, and never before had I wanted to learn as badly as I did at that moment.

  Tess and I walked past a pack of fellow Americans we easily identified as such because of their familiar accents. They were dressed in baggy shorts, faded t-shirts, and, like us, were laden down with heavy backpacks. As we maneuvered our way around them, I gave them a polite smile and wondered if we looked as out of place as they did amongst the well-dressed Italians.

  I was just looking down at my sleeveless yellow and white gingham button-down when I heard a loud voice bellow in my ear.

  “Ciao, signora. What are you doing, checking yourself out?”

  I spun around and took a step back, stunned to see my handsome nephew standing in front of me.

  “Landon,” I exclaimed. I grabbed his cheeks and gave him a kiss on the side of his lips.

  Tess, who had been walking one step ahead of me, stopped dead in her tracks and whipped her head around. “Landon!” she yelled. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a conference this morning.”

  Landon pulled Tess and I into in a tight embrace. “I do, but how often do I get the chance to welcome my only sister and favorite aunt to a foreign city? Benvenuti.”

  Landon took my backpack and slung it effortlessly over his shoulder. He was just under six feet, and with his muscular build, my bag suddenly didn’t look so big.

  “Bless you,” I smiled, rolling my tired shoulder. “When did my little nephew grow into such a gallant gentleman?” I reached up and pinched one of his cheeks that had turned pink.

  “He may be chivalrous, but he is far from grown up. Trust me.” Tess laughed.

  “Aren’t you sweet? I see your preschool buddies have rubbed off on you, sis.”

  “Ha-ha-ha,” Tess replied.

  Landon reached down and put a playful headlock on his sister, gently grinding his knuckles into her forehead.

  After Tess wriggled free, she removed her backpack and thrust it under Landon’s chin. “Just for that, you can carry mine too, wise ass.”

  I clasped my hands together and stretched my arms overhead. My load felt light without the heavy pack, but I also felt light in my heart. Landon was right. Being together in a foreign city was pretty extraordinary indeed.

  I smiled to myself as Tess and Landon continued their sibling banter. It had been awhile since I’d seen them side by side, and I’d forgotten just how much they looked alike. Both were tall, thin, and had honey blond hair and green eyes. There was no denying they were siblings, and quite often, they’d even been mistaken for twins. The only difference was that Landon had inherited his mother’s darker complexion.

  “So, how’s the trip going? Aunt Lu, do you have flyer’s remorse, travelling with this one?” Landon pointed his thumb at Tess.

  “Are you kidding? I don’t regret a mile. Do you?” I creased my eyebrows and waited for Tess to answer.

  She slung an arm over my shoulder. “Not a one,” she reassured. “This whole trip has been amazing. And quite ... interesting.” She gave me a knowing look.

  “Oh yeah,” I said with wide eyes. Tess and I looked at each other and giggled.

  “Sounds like you have a few stories to tell over drinks.” Landon paused to look at his watch. “And speaking of drinks, I better get back to work.”

  “How is that, speaking of drinks?” Tess said with a face. “Are you at an AA meeting or an architect’s conference?”

  “The latter, unfortunately. Or should I say fortunately?” Landon wore a bemused expression and shook his head. “Regardless, the longer I sit in a windowless conference room, the more I want to drink. Learning about low energy architecture is seriously making me feel lethargic. Hopefully they’ll still be serving lunch when I get back.”

  My stomach growled at the mere mention of lunch. I looked around the station.

  “Tess, would you actually mind if we grabbed something to eat here?” I said.

  “What?” Landon looked at me incredulously. “You did not come to Firenze,” he said with an affected accent, “to eat in a train station. It’s too early for you to check in, so I’m going to take your bags to the pensione, but first, I will drop you off at the Central Market. I may have only been here a few days, but I’ve picked up a few tips from the locals.”

  “Lead the way,” I ordered. Tess and I linked arms and followed Landon out of the station.

  Ten minutes later, a taxi dropped us off in front of a rather plain looking building. Feeling skeptical,
we said our goodbyes to Landon and went inside to search for a taste of Florence.

  “Um, Aunt Lu?” Tess said when we stepped inside.

  I paused for a moment to swallow. “Sorry. I have an excessively watering mouth.”

  I knew we wouldn’t have to search hard to find something to eat. The room was covered from wall to wall with booth after booth of all sorts of Italian delicacies.

  I drew in an exaggerated breath and inhaled the fresh aroma that came from a large cheese stall. The pungent smell of Parmesan wafted into my nose and had me suddenly craving a plate of homemade pasta.

  “Um, my mouth is also watering, but I think it’s a warning that I am about to throw up.” Tess pulled on my arm and pointed her chin to the other side of the room.

  I sucked in my breath and stood up straighter. “Ohhh.” Without moving my head, I glanced at the neighboring stalls and saw all sorts of unrecognizable intestines hanging from the ceiling. “Don’t think about it,” I commanded.

  I turned my attention back to the vistas of cheeses and steered her past the stalls of slaughtered animals. When we got to the end of the first floor, I made my way over to the various vinegars, olive oils, and produce. Chilled eggplant, porcini mushrooms, and buckets of dried fruits created a sweet scent in the air. The colors of the dried peaches, apples, bananas, and plums were visual eye candy.

  After walking through the two-floor supermarket, Tess and I bought paninis with mozzarella cheese, which didn’t even make it to the door. The cheese was fresh and warm and practically slid down our throats. A drizzle of olive oil on top had soaked into the thin bread and the combination left behind a pleasant artichoke aftertaste.

  Florence was off to a delicious start.

  We wandered around and caught glimpses of the city’s most famous cathedral, Il Duomo, off in the not so far distance. We followed the distinctive Renaissance dome until we came face to face with the colorful marble façade of the Gothic cathedral. Stained glass windows depicted the saints, while bronzed doors lined with scenes from the life of the Madonna led to the vast interior.