I entered his order and handed him his change, an almost palpable tingle passing between our fingertips. I blushed a deep crimson and looked at the floor, turning away and hiding my embarrassment as I made his coffee. “I figured you’d be back home for Christmas now things are ok with your dad.” I slid the cup to him and offered a shy smile. “I’m picking up a few extra shifts, I need the money for Rome. I go home this weekend.” His eyebrows lifted in surprise as he sipped his coffee. “You’re going to Rome?” I nodded and continued wiping the cups dry. “My father is supporting me now so I can afford it…and I didn’t want to miss out on part of my education because of…well…you know.”
He studied my face momentarily before taking another sip of coffee, I couldn’t meet his eye. “Yeh…I know…I’m sorry this has affected so much.” I didn’t want to talk about it any longer, I busied myself with cleaning a nearby table, “I’m fine.” I shrugged nonchalantly and began placing chairs on the tabletops. Sam did not leave, he remained where he stood, one hand on the counter, the other running through his dark, wavy hair. “You can’t even look at me, Ana.” Although it pained me I raised my eyes to meet his, lifting my chin in defiance and false confidence. He smiled warmly at me then - the crinkle eyed smile I hadn’t seen in what felt like years. My heart melted and I could not help smirking back.
He pointed between us, “We were friends once you know…before anything else.” I threw my cloth down and crossed my arms tightly across my chest. “I miss my friend,” he murmured his admission and I almost couldn’t take it. “Me too,” I sighed with a sad smile. He picked up his cup and walked over to the door. “I guess I’ll see you in the new year for the Rome trip.” He opened the door and offered me a nod goodnight. I called his name before he stepped outside and he turned to face me expectantly, one hand resting on the door handle. “Merry Christmas,” I smiled and twisted the cloth nervously in my fingers. He nodded again, the corner of his mouth rising in a confident half-smile. “Merry Christmas to you too.”
He turned to leave once more, stepping out into the dark and wet street. “Oh and Sam?” He paused on the doorstep and poked his head back around the door. I twisted the cloth tighter in my grasp, a vice for the nervous energy building inside me, not knowing if I should say what was about to exit my mouth. “You never lost your friend you know…I’m still here…if you want…” I stopped myself from saying it, the word had too many connotations. I knew he wanted me as more than a friend, just as I wanted him. “If you need me,” I offered instead. Something in his eyes changed, the appearance of a glimmer of hope perhaps. “That’s…good to know…Goodnight, Ana.” He saluted me with his coffee and disappeared into the night. I released the breath I had been holding and sat on the stool near the counter, staring at the spot he had just vacated. I was like a moth to a flame, and I had already been burnt.
Chapter 18
Christmas came and went without a hitch. My father was trying so hard to make things up to me that he had bought me all new art supplies for Christmas, including a brand new H-frame easel by Winsor & Newton that must have cost a fortune. My mother was so happy that we were finally getting along she spent Christmas day swanning merrily around the house, wine in hand, and hugging us both repeatedly. It was strange staying in my old room again. The walls were bare and the furniture was sparse after my move, it felt more like a guest room for me now. It took my returning to Surrey to make me realise I had already made York my home.
Abby had not responded to my text by the time I was getting the train back down south. Before meeting my parents I took a detour to her house and knocked insistently on her door until, annoyed with the racket, she opened it and reluctantly stood in silence while I grovelled on the doorstep. I told her she had been right about me and that I was selfish but that I needed my friend and I wanted to make it up to her. She soon forgave me on opening her present, Sarah Millican tickets, and begrudgingly admitted there hadn’t really been anything between her and Tom so the betrayal was minimal. I left Surrey weighed down with gifts but with a slightly lighter heart than I had arrived with. My father ordered a driver to take me back to York, not wanting me to carry all of my presents on a public train.
I arrived back at my flat near the end of December, ready to spend new years eve alone with a bottle of wine. I sat in my window, overlooking the river, and as midnight struck I watched the fireworks in the distance and sipped my wine. Across the room my phone buzzed multiple times, text messages from friends and family wishing me a happy new year. I ignored it and went back to admiring the view over the fields, wrapping the throw from the sofa tighter around myself. About half an hour later the celebrations across the city were dying down and there was nothing more to see other than a slightly smokey sky. I hopped from the windowsill and padded barefoot toward my bedroom.
As I passed the coffee table my phone began to buzz once more. It continued to ring, the screen displayed a number I did not recognise. I picked it up off the table and waited for it to go to answerphone, but it kept ringing in my hand. I answered quickly before they hung up. “Hello?” I wondered if Abby or Tom were calling me from some party using someone else’s phone. There was no response at first, only silence, but then I heard him clear his throat and knew immediately who was on the other line. “Sam?” More silence, then he cleared his throat again. “Hi…Ana.” I sank onto the sofa. “What’s wrong?” I asked, presuming that he would only be contacting me if something had happened.
“Uhh, nothing, nothing’s wrong I just…I’m sorry if you don’t really want to hear from me, I know you asked me to back off but…well, I was sitting here alone at midnight and I was thinking how you said I still had a friend and…it’s just…yours is the only number I wanted to call.” I didn’t know what to say. He cleared his throat a third time, obviously nervous at my lack of response. “I-I’m sorry, um…I just wanted to say happy new year, of course, you’re probably busy, I’ll leave you to it.” I found comfort in his voice and didn’t want him to hang up. I lay back in my chair and rubbed at my eyes, “No, it’s ok…I’m home…alone…and I meant what I said, I’m still here.”
I sensed his smile and couldn’t help but mirror it. “Not at some wild party with Charlie then?” He mused. I laughed and told him about my deeply uncool night in with a bottle of wine and window fireworks. “Wow, we make a right pair don’t we?” I ached at the thought of the two of us as a pair, unable to talk I simply hummed in response. “If things were different…” he stopped himself mid-sentence and I heard him take a sip of a drink. “If they were different?” I prompted, dropping my voice to an intimate whisper. “I’d probably be in Pisciotta right now, celebrating with my family, and Nonna and…you.” I sighed sadly but tried to lighten the mood. “Yeh, Nonna would have put on a big party and she’d be dancing with you and your uncle all night long.”
He laughed warmly and agreed with me, eager to put an end to the melancholy and awkwardness. “Well anyway…I just wanted to say hi, and happy new year.” I drained the last dregs of wine from my own glass and smiled to myself. “Happy new year to you too.” We were both quiet for a moment, listening to each other’s breathing and finding comfort in the sound. “Night, Ana,” he sighed.“Goodnight, Sam.” I hung up the phone and slid down the sofa cushions and into the foetal position. Pulling my throw over my head I stayed there for the rest of the night, unable to sleep until the faint glow of orange light alerted me to the sunrise.
I spent the next few days shopping in the January sales and packing my suitcase ready to fly to Rome. Before I left I gave Tom a spare key to my flat and asked him to collect my mail and leave it on the kitchen worktop for me. It was in the early hours of Friday morning that I left the flat, dragging my small suitcase behind me, and got the bus to campus where a coach was already waiting to take us to Leeds Bradford airport. I was running slightly late and everyone was already seated, their bags piled next to the luggage doors outside. I left my suitcase with the rest of the bags and ran up the co
ach steps.
Everybody sat in pairs, I scanned the rows looking for a spare seat. Charlie was near the back of the bus, bent in close to a girl from our class. He glanced up at me and offered a small wave, I nodded to him hesitantly and took one of the two empty seats that were right at the front behind the driver. I didn’t mind, there was a shelf above the driver’s head where I could stash some snacks, my drink, and my book. I sat near the window, put my feet up against the panel in front of me, and propped a magazine open across my knees, waiting eagerly for the journey to begin. I soon heard the luggage doors close and the driver climb on board. I checked my hand luggage one last time to ensure I had everything I needed.
As I rummaged through my toiletries checking I had my toothbrush and toothpaste a small cough to my right startled me. I looked up to find Sam standing sheepishly in the aisle next to me, he gestured at the empty seat. “Um…do you mind? Everywhere else is full.” I glanced behind me at the packed coach and nodded in agreement. I hadn’t imagined he would be taking the coach with all of us, I figured he would arrive there ahead of the group to arrange our tickets. As he settled into his seat, our arms and legs touching for the first time in months, I chewed my bottom lip, nervous at the prospect of an hour-long journey in such close proximity.
We glanced at each other, our eyes meeting for a brief second before he leaned forward and removed a register from his bag, calling out everybody’s names and checking them off as they responded. He signalled the driver to leave and slipped the register back into his bag. As he leaned back in his seat, a small smirk playing on his lips, I watched him nervously from the corner of my eye. “Well…this should be interesting,” he whispered so that only I could hear him. I smiled to myself, relaxed back against my headrest, and braced myself for the most awkward hour of my life.
* * *
I spent the bus ride with my face hidden in my book, hopelessly aware that Sam was glancing at me now and then. By the time we arrived at the airport, my nerves were wound tighter than a snare drum and I was desperate for some relief. After unloading our baggage and queuing for the check-in desk we were free to head through security and await our flight. “You alright, Ana?” Charlie sat on the plastic seats next to me. I gave him a half-smile in response and continued reading my magazine. “Oh come on, Ana, I’m sorry ok? If I had known what I said would bother you so much I never would have mentioned it.”
I closed my magazine and looked up at him. “There are certain things that I can’t discuss and hurt me to do so. Can you understand that?” He nodded eagerly and took my hand in his. “I won’t mention it again, I promise.” I nodded and rested my head on his shoulder as he gave me a sideways hug. “Where are you sitting?” He asked as he pulled his ticket out of his bag. We compared seat numbers and found we were nowhere near each other. “Ah, that sucks. I will come and visit you during the flight ok?” I nodded and stuffed the ticket in the middle of my passport. We stood as our flight was called and walked over to the gate together.
On the plane, he stopped a few rows from the front and sat next to the girl I had seen him with on the bus. I said goodbye and worked my way toward the back of the plane, past all my classmates who were dotted here and there and toward the back row. As I approached the back of the plane I paused, noticing Sam stuffing his hand luggage in the overhead locker some way in front of me. I hoped there would be at least a few rows between us. As I glanced at the row numbers above my head I grew increasingly uneasy and on reviewing the ticket I had been handed once more I realised exactly where my seat would be.
I stopped in the aisle one row ahead of him. He sat in the aisle seat flicking through a book about touring Rome. He glanced up and did a double-take, raising his eyebrows expectantly as if waiting for me to ask him something. “Did you plan this?” He looked puzzled until he noticed the ticket in my hand and the empty seat next to him. “Oh, is this your seat?” He jumped up and stepped to the side. I rolled my eyes and pushed past him, “As if you didn’t know,” I muttered under my breath. He insisted it wasn’t by design and must have just been a coincidence, I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at him and removed my book, my headphones, and some snacks from my bag before tucking it under the seat in front.
“I really didn’t know, you know.” He had sat beside me again, book in hand and an air of aloofness. “Anyway…it’s not a bad thing…we are friends now, remember?” He smirked at me and I couldn’t help the small smile on my lips. I put my headphones on in defiance but he tapped me on the shoulder before I had started the music. “You aren’t allowed those on until after the safety demonstration.” He pointed to the front of the plane where the air stewardess was preparing to begin her little routine of what to do in the event of various terrifying situations. I twiddled my thumbs and bit my lip, refusing to look at him. “You really think we can be friends? After everything?” I asked sarcastically.
He tucked the book into the seat pocket in front of him and folded his hands in his lap, turning slightly toward me. His face was impassive and serious, “Well that depends…” I prompted him to continue with an exasperated wave of the hand. “It depends on if you can forgive me.” I faced the front and pretended to watch the air stewardess clipping and unclipping a makeshift seatbelt. “Ana…” his tone was intimate and I shied away from it, after a few minutes I whispered under my breath, “You’re a fantastic teacher, Sam, it would be selfish of me to ask you to give that up. You should have told me all of your plans…but then again I withheld mine from you also.” I sighed and finally looked at him.
He had held his breath and was watching me intently. “I suppose we are even.” I shrugged and offered a subdued smile. He reached out and took my hand unexpectedly. “Thank you.” He looked sincere and relieved and I squeezed his hand before pulling away. As the plane took off and we flew toward Italy two ex-lovers caught up on each other’s lives. We laughed at memories of Pisciotta, always steering clear of the overly sentimental or more personal times we had spent together. We both knew talking about those times would not be healthy. An hour into the two-hour flight and I hadn’t picked up my book once.
“Hey, Ana, how’s it going back here? Looks like you’re having fun.” I had been mid-story with Sam, about Abby and her behaviour on our night out in York, when Charlie appeared next to our seats. He gave me a knowing look and leaned against the backrest of the seats in front of us. “Umm, yeh fine thanks, Charlie. Is something wrong upfront?” I looked behind him down the plane and saw his female friend glancing over the headrest toward us. “No, no, I was just checking in. Making sure you’re not bored back here away from your friends.” Sam cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Oh don’t worry, Mr. King, I’m keeping Ana entertained quite easily back here.”
Charlie stood a little straighter as I watched the apparent standoff between the two of them. “Your girlfriend looks like she wants you back up there, champ.” Sam pointed to the front of the plane where Charlie’s female friend now hovered, smiling and waving for him to return. “She’s not my girlfriend!” Charlie protested, locking eyes with me after glancing over his shoulder at the eager girl. “Does she know that, Charlie?” I asked with a little laugh that Sam joined me in. Charlie looked back at the girl again and signalled that he was coming. “I’ll catch up with you on the other end?” He asked. I nodded and, with a slight scowl at Sam and his amused expression, he returned to his waiting friend.
Sam looked at me smugly and grabbed a sweet from the pack on my tray table. “Don’t do that.” My tone was reproachful but he held his hands up in mock innocence. “Do what?” I sighed, exasperated with his games, “You know what. Charlie is just a friend.” He raised an eyebrow sarcastically ,“Yeh, a friend who is mad about you.” He noticed the slight blush on my cheeks and became suddenly serious. “You like him too?” He asked almost hesitantly. I unwrapped a sweet and popped it into my mouth. “No, Sam, he’s just a boy I’m friends with. I see him more as an annoying little brother.” Sam smi
rked and relaxed back into his reclined seat. “Good to know,” he murmured before closing his eyes and remaining quiet for the rest of the flight.
* * *
Rome was everything I had wanted it to be. Though the people of the city had become modern and sophisticated, Rome was still Rome. Thousands of tourists filled the streets and yet it did not feel false or capitalised on. The architecture, the pagan symbolism, the mixture of holy order and delicious sin, it all fascinated me. I felt like I was with my people again. I had missed the emotion Italians never failed to express with a loud voice and exaggerated hand movements, the unashamed ease with which they took their time on things and the confidence and the no-nonsense attitudes that left no room for western pussyfooting. Sam felt it too, of course, I could tell by the nostalgic look in his eye each time we were out amongst the people.
The day we arrived was laid back and more about getting our bearings than admiring the art and architecture. After dropping our things off at the hotel we walked around the city, ate gelato, and shopped in the January sales. Christmas lights were still hung across the streets and by the evening the wintry bite of the air made it feel like we were there for the holiday season. After thick, rich “cioccolata calda”, we traipsed back to our beds and slept soundly, ready for the busy day ahead of us. Charlie walked me to my room to say goodnight. “Listening to you speak Italian…” he dropped his jaw open and fanned himself with one hand as if he was a schoolgirl who’d been seduced by my linguistic skills. I hit him playfully in the chest.
“It’s considered wrong to invite your annoying little brother into your bed, Ana.” I turned toward the fluent Italian voice and found Sam strolling down the hallway toward us. He passed by and raised an eyebrow with a smirk in my direction before stopping a few doors down to enter his hotel room. I responded in equally fluent Italian and told him he wasn’t as funny as he thought he was. With one last grin, he disappeared behind his door, leaving myself and a confused looking Charlie in the hallway. “What was that?” Charlie pointed toward Sam’s now closed door with a questioning look. “Oh, he told us not to have a late night because we have a long day tomorrow.”
My Heart Lies in Pisciotta Page 17