by Cara North
My heart thunders, it pounds. I realize I am lost in Italy. I am about to cry when I remember the paper Henry left for me. I pull it out and approach an older woman. She reads it and smiles at me. She hands it back to me and points me in the opposite direction of where I am. I go. I go until I think I need to stop and ask someone else. I hand a teenage boy the paper and he pulls me by the hand to his scooter. I am amazed because this is exactly the sort of thing I have seen in the movies. He keeps pleading with me to get on the back. I finally concede. What's the worst that can happen right? I mean I am bigger than this kid so if push came to shove I could defend myself.
Whipping through the streets of Rome the kid knows exactly where he is going. For my part, I hold onto him and try not to cringe as he takes corners and weaves around cars and people. It is not long before I see a familiar building, really familiar ones, the ones I saw when I first left the apartment. I didn't realize how far I had walked. The kid brings the scooter to a stop. I hop off and refrain from falling to the ground and kissing it, thankful not to have fallen off or been in an accident.
I am thanking him in English, when Henry comes running down the street. He is panicked and I instantly feel horrible for not keeping better track of the time. He speaks to the teen and gives him some money. The guy takes the money, says, “Ciao Bella” to me, and then takes off like a little bolt of scooter lightning again.
"Henry, I am so sorry, I lost track of time...” I don't like his angry face.
"We need to get you a map, a phone, and I don't know what else but I didn't think for one second you would go farther than the market on your first day.” He pulls me close to him and hugs me too tight. “It's not that it is terribly dangerous, it just isn't terribly safe for a non-Italian speaking woman to wander around. There are parts of Italy that are like parts of America, places women don't go alone."
For an educated woman I feel pretty damn stupid right now. I hadn't really thought about it like that. I mean I have never been out of the United States so as a tourist I imagined a place like this would be an open playground for me. That somehow people would speak English, and a couple people could speak English currency, I thought I would be able to explore and get my way back. “I'm really glad you left those directions."
"What directions?” He lifts a brow and I pull out the paper.
He laughs, he groans, he puts his hand on his heart. “Thank God that guy thinks this is the best place to shop."
"What? What are you talking about?” I look at the paper. It is a list of brief Italian words and a few numbers.
"It's a grocery list. I asked one of the women in the market for a recipe and she gave me this list with directions, these are cooking directions, not a map home.” He shakes his head. “But that is a great idea. Come, let's take our map and buy dinner."
My heart has stopped. I can't breathe. He puts his arm around my shoulder and guides me down the street to the market.
The smells revive me. I vow not to wander farther than the gelato stand on my own with or without a map. “Will you be working the whole time I'm here?"
"Just a couple more days, we are almost finished. We would have been done by now but it was difficult to get essential people back and two other guys had to grow out their beards because the fake stuff can be good, or it can be very ugly. Not everyone is blessed with my hairiness.” He keeps his arm on my shoulder as we walk.
"Aren't you afraid that someone will photograph us?” I ask and look up at him.
"No. Everyone thinks we're gone, these people don't care who I am, which is why I live here by the way, and if by chance they do catch on that we are back and filming, they will be seeking the star of the show, not me.” He is so nonchalant about his job. I don't think he realizes that to some circles he is amazing, he is every bit a star. A group of women have even made a fan site for him.
"Do you have a publicist?” I ask and watch him communicate with the people in the market. His smile makes even older women blush. He commands their attention, they flirt, and they look at me and wink or nod. Whether they know he is on television or not, Henry is a star.
"Yeah, but let's not talk work okay?” He puts a kiss to the side of my forehead. “Oooh look at those, that needs to be cooked tonight."
Long green fresh asparagus spears, negotiated for size and possibly price all in Italian. I look at him, I am amazed at how smart he is, how fluent he speaks this language. I bet if we had children they would be ... I take a physical step back from him and trip over a cart. I am on my way to the pavement when he gathers one of my arms and one hand with his hands. I brush against the pavement but I don't bust my ass or head on it, which I am sure I would have hit both had he not acted so quickly.
Both Henry and the old man behind the vegetable cart are talking to me. I can only understand one of them. “Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost or something."
"I'm fine.” I collect myself and start walking back toward the apartment. He takes care of the asparagus, gathers the food he dropped in order to catch me and then he really catches me, by the arm.
"Hey, what the hell is going on? Did you see someone, are you feeling all right? You're making me nervous."
I'm making him nervous? Is he serious? I laugh, I can't help it. I feel a bit like I am having an out of body experience. My laughing doesn't do anything for his mood.
"Let's go.” He releases my arm and stomps past me to the stairs leading up to his place. I follow, trying to stifle my crazy nervous laugh.
Once inside he heads directly for the kitchen and begins arranging the food for dinner. I know he is mad. He is silently stewing. He has every right to be. “Look, I just startled myself okay?"
"You startled yourself?” He shakes his head and continues prepping the food.
"Can I help?” The weight of the day is sinking in on me. Safe in this loft I know who I am again.
"Yeah, let me know when you're ready to tell me the truth.” He looks at me then puts a pot of water on the stove.
"I'm not lying. I did startle myself. I had a thought out there and it jolted me. You can't tell me you never had a thought that went against your base nature; against everything you thought you knew about yourself, and that it didn't scare the shit out of you.” I say it louder than normal but not yelling.
He turns, looks at me, his jaw works and I watch the muscles tick on his left cheek. He is choosing his next words carefully. “What did you think?"
"I don't want to say it out loud.” I feel the flip flop of my stomach and pray he doesn't make me say it.
"Yeah, I've had that happen before then.” He looks at the floor then turns back to the meal. “You can wash those vegetables if you like."
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Lick It
"Oh God that was heaven.” I say and put my hands over my stomach.
"You're easy.” He says then looks up from his plate. “I mean you're easy to please ... when it comes to food ... I mean..."
"You can stop any time now.” I smile at him. His cheeks pink with embarrassment. He is so endearing. “We should go for a walk, to help work off some of these calories."
He watches me lick my finger and thumb. His lids grow heavy, his pupils dilate. “Good idea."
We walk through the city at night. The sky is clear, the moon is high, and Henry holds my hand the entire stroll. “What did you want to be when you were a child?"
"A sex therapist.” I laugh.
"I'm serious.” He says.
"Let's see, I wanted to be a princess for a little while, but then I really wanted to be an astronaut. I watched that movie, Space Camp, and I just knew I would grow up to be an astronaut.” I look up at the night sky and admit my love for it.
"Why didn't you?"
"I rode a rollercoaster one time and realized that if I can't hold my lunch on a couple of hills, I wasn't cut out for zero gravity.” It is getting late but I notice something nearby and I want it. “Ooh gelato!"
He l
aughs and allows me to tug him along. He passes on the dessert but I don't care, I am in lust with gelato. I have developed a torrid affair in the matter of one day. Like an addict, I must have it!
"What did you want to be?” I ask and take another bite.
"Give me one lick.” He says and I offer him the spoon. I delight at the view. The slide of his tongue around the spoon has my mouth open and aching to kiss him. He hands the spoon back to me and starts walking again. “I can't eat more than that; I have to watch my weight."
I choke on the next bite.
"I'm an actor. Even on television, three pounds can make a difference. As long as the writers believe my naked body is worth looking at I can remain in the main character line up, if I get complacent, lazy, or fat, they will simply kill me off.” He shrugs.
It explained a great deal, about why they both always made healthy meals and proper portions. It told me exactly why they preferred to cook. When I cooked, I made too much, used lots of butter, and fried things.
Later that night we crawl into bed together. I face him and he faces me. We stare into each other's eyes for a very long time not saying a word. He slides closer and kisses me. Tenderly, passionately he sucks on my lips, my tongue, and finally pulls back to let me regain my breath.
I reach between us and discover that he isn't hard. He is only half aroused at best. I look at him and he smiles sleepily and says, “Not tonight. You just about killed me this morning. I was a mess. I need to get at least six hours of sleep tonight."
I don't know what to think of this turn in events. He pulls me close and I roll to give him my back. He snuggles up close to me and whispers sweet Italian words in my ear. I recognize one of them Bellissimo, beautiful.
The next day I wake up alone, and thankfully drool free. I open the windows and let the air waft in. It smells delicious. I decide I will not go too far today but I will definitely go get some gelato!
I eat most of the morning. Sampling things, wasting more food than my conscious is happy with. I return to the apartment and pull out my laptop. I need to do some real work today. Sitting in the loft, I can finally take in all of its simple magnificence. The kitchen table has mismatched chairs but they work together to make it look intentional. The kitchen itself is small, purposeful, unlike my large country kitchen back home. The desk I am sitting at could very well be an antique. The chair is a modern desk chair and looking at the arms on it reminds me to get back to work.
I sort e-mails and decide to write an article about public displays of affection, or PDA as it is commonly known. Now that I am in Rome, I can see people everywhere making out, holding hands, kissing. No one flinches; no one gawks and stares, well no one but me that is.
PDA by Sonja Love Ph.D.
Dear “Sick of Seeing it” from Pennsylvania:
I noticed in your letter that there seems to be some personal issues with the public display of affection. You write that you taught your children better than this, yet they insist on embarrassing you when you visit. I realize your children are grown, I think that is something you need to come to terms with as well. You write that you are divorced and still bitter. This may have more to do with it than you think. Is it possible that you too long to be shown affection in a public way?
I have recently traveled abroad and I must tell you that the public display of affection is not a problem in Europe. I have walked the streets of Rome and witnessed young and old couples practically making out on park benches, in lines, and at the dinner table. What I realize is that these people are not doing this for a show, they are not entertaining the general public, they are simply consumed by the person they are with and cannot control the impulse to touch them, hold them, and love them no matter where they are. It is a beautiful thing.
Now I know the last thing you want to see in a movie line is a young couple making out. In America, we often have the PDA police who will clear their throat or make a comment about children being nearby, or simply tell that young couple to “get a room.” This is because we are born from conservative rules and guidelines. We fear the wrath from God, our parents, and the public at large. What we need is a little more perspective. We need a little more Italy. The next time you see a couple holding hands, giving sweet smooches or hugging, smile. They love each other. And love is such a fleeting thing these days. Maybe if people would stop trying to hide it all the time, more people would stay together. Maybe if American's stopped focusing on it, our young people would only do it because they feel it, not because they want to draw attention and make others feel uncomfortable by it.
So the next time you see someone you love, hug them, kiss them, and tell them, and don't worry about who's watching!
I then tackle a few more reader problems or concerns. By the time I am done, the sun is setting, my stomach is growling, and I think I have put in more work in one day than I have in a very long time. I have enough done to fill the next two weeks worth of online advice. I stretch, circle my tired wrists, and then look at the clock. I frown, Henry should be home by now, at least I think he should.
I hear my messenger screen pop up.
Crzyjake93: You there?
Sonjaqanda: HEY!
Crzyjake93: havin fun?
Sonjaqanda: I am in love
Crzyjake93: WITH HENRY
Sonjaqanda: with ROME
Crzyjake93: same difference—you miss me?
Sonjaqanda: yes I miss u and no it is not the same
Crzyjake93: you get my gift?
Sonjaqanda: :-) tyvm
Crzyjake93: you can thank me in person later, so what have you bought?
Sonjaqanda: gelato
Crzyjake93: no I mean what sexy things
Sonjaqanda: pistachio gelato-mmm-vry sxy
Crzyjake93: GO BUY HOT STUFF
Sonjaqanda: LOL, like pizza
Crzyjake93: :-( I C I will have to come over there after all
Sonjaqanda: Really? :-)
Crzyjake93: I'm workin on it
Henry opens the door and I see in his eyes that he has had a long day.
Sonjaqanda: Henry just got in
I don't get a response, the phone rings instead.
"Hello?” Henry answers it. “He says to turn off the IM, he knew you wouldn't answer my phone or he would have called."
My mouth opens then closes. I am sick of them knowing so damn much about me. I want to maintain some ability to surprise them. Henry walks towards me as I close out the instant messenger. He looks at the screen as he hands me the phone. Before he leaves, he bends over to kiss me on the lips. “I'm starving."
Into the phone and towards Henry at the same time I say, “Me too, but I didn't know when you would get here so I didn't make anything."
Jacob says, “Take him to that pizza place he loves, it is just around the corner from where he lives. I've never been there but he yaps about it being the best ever."
"Jake says I should take you to pizza on the corner.” I say and Henry looks at me. “No, around the corner. My bad."
Henry smiles. “It is the best ever. Do you want pizza though?"
I'm hungry; I don't care what I eat. Jacob is in my ear as I nod yes to Henry.
"Hey So’ when you wake up tomorrow and he goes to work, before you do anything, you call me okay?” He's insistent and something in his voice sounds mischievous.
"Okay.” I agree.
"Let me talk to Henry real quick sweetheart, I will try to get there soon.” He says.
I hand the phone to Henry. They talk, well Jacob talks, Henry smiles, laughs and then says, “Just let me know when."
I wait impatiently to be included but they hang up. Henry looks at me. “Well?"
"You're going to love this place.” He looks almost revitalized.
"How was work?” I ask as we walk. “You look exhausted."
"I am.” His voice sounds thicker, heavier, as if he is tired of talking. “The new actress kept missing her mark, her lines. I wanted to kill her myself by the end of
it."
"I'm sorry.” I say and put my arm around his waist as we walk. I am taking a bit of my own advice. Henry is my good friend, my lover. I can show him affection in public. “How about a massage later?"
"Cara mia, ti voglio bene.” He says and looks at me for a long moment just before he kisses me.
We are almost to the pizza place. I can smell the herbs and spices, it combines with the feel of Henry, the old stone path we are on, the stars clear and bright, the moon hanging high in the sky, and I feel light. I feel like I could float away. I feel like ... no, no, no ... loving Italy is not the same as loving Henry. Damn Jacob for putting that thought in my head.
"You know, eventually I am going to learn all of the things you are saying to me.” I stare into his eyes and he gives me a devilish grin, pulls in both of his lips and slowly lets them out.
"I hope so.” He winks. “Maybe you will come to say them to me too."
"Are you talking dirty to me?” I feign offense and we take the last few steps to pizza heaven.
"Sometimes, but not just then.” He winks at me then holds the door. “After you."
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Rub a Dub Dub
"God that feels good.” He says into the pillow. “Don't stop, just keep doing that."
"It will hurt tomorrow if I stay in one spot too long.” I press the tips of my fingers into his shoulders again.
"I don't care."
"I care,” I move to another spot on his back and slowly start working the flesh, getting harder, pressing deeper in increments. He is full of knots, as if he carried the weight of the world on his back. “Henry you really need to get this done more often."
"Stay with me then."