Dear Adam

by Ava Zavora

  “Uh-uh,” she told him. “You’re a senior and about to graduate. Not on your life.”

  To further stretch her dollars, she had booked a red eye for the first leg. Unlike her other trips, there was no one to see her off at the airport. Her parents had slept over the night before and her mom cooked her a going away dinner. She felt doubly guilty keeping her real reason for her spontaneous trip from them. It was too long of a story to tell and even if there had been time to explain everything, her parents would have tried to dissuade her from going. The pleasure itinerary she provided was 99% fabrication. Only the flight details and hotel contact information were accurate.

  To be safe, however, she told Vivian details of her plan.

  “So what are you going to do once you get to Agrigento?”

  “I have no idea whatsoever. I’ll figure it out on the way over there.”

  “Great plan. I hope it works.”

  “How hard can it be to find a mysterious Englishman in Sicily?”

  “What if you go through all this trouble and don’t find him?”

  Eden put on a face of bravado. “Well then I don’t find him. At least I tried. This is probably the most foolish thing I will ever do, but if there’s ever a time to be foolish, this is it. I am not going to spend the rest of my life wondering and kicking myself because I didn’t go after the man I love.”

  Normally, she would have dreaded such long hours on a plane and multiple changes, but in this case, it gave her more time to formulate a course of action. She spent the time alternating between power naps and creating a strategy, poring over maps and guidebooks, taking notes, and trying to cram as much practical Italian as she could. Once her plane landed on Palermo, she intended to hit the ground running and use every minute of her time in Sicily towards one end – finding Adam.

  By the time she arrived at the Fiumicino Airport in Rome for the last leg of her flight, Eden felt primed and ready. She had two hours to kill so she wandered restlessly among the shops near her gate. She was looking through tourist maps, trying to find one for Sicily, when she heard her name being announced. “Attenzione, Eden Espinoza” then a stream of Italian she couldn’t understand, followed by “Attention, Eden Espinoza, please go to the Alitalia counter in Gate 53. Thank you.”

  Gate 53 was her boarding gate. She tried not to panic.

  She gathered her carryon bags and went up to the counter, behind which were two beautiful young women in green and white uniforms with red kerchiefs tied around their necks. They were talking to a tall man with black hair who was leaning against the counter. They were laughing and flirting with him and didn’t notice Eden standing there.

  “Buon giorno,” she interrupted, “I’m Eden Espinoza.”

  Both women reluctantly turned to her. One of them gave the other a look as if to say, “It’s your turn to do the dirty work. You handle this one,” and turned back to talking with the man leaning against the counter.

  Consequently, the one stuck with dealing with her looked like she was in a foul mood.

  “Ah, Miss Espinoza, buon giorno. I am afraid there is a problem with your ticket.”

  Eden took out her boarding pass and electronic ticket receipt. “I already got checked through in San Francisco.”

  The woman, whose gold lapel had the name “M. Brassi”, took her documents from her.

  “Mmmm,” she said as she looked them over. She then started typing in the computer in front of her, looked at her ticket, then typed some more, frowning the whole time. It did not look reassuring. After five long minutes of typing and scanning the monitor, she handed the pass and ticket back to Eden. “Sorry. No good. This flight is overbooked. You will have to take another flight.”

  Eden blinked at her, then shook her head. Keep calm, she told herself. You’re in a foreign country and you’ve just started your mission. This is what happens when you book international flights one week ahead. You get bumped.

  She took a deep breath. “Okay. Can I take the next flight to Palermo?”

  The woman nodded, then went back to typing on the keyboard. As she scanned the results, her frown deepened. More typing. More scanning. Her frown became a deep crevice of worry.

  Keep calm. Keep calm. This was her new mantra.

  M. Brassi turned to the other woman and said something in rapid Italian. The other woman, whose lapel said “R. Viola” stopped talking to the tall man and immediately turned to the computer monitor with a concerned expression. What she saw appeared to baffle her. More typing. And a frown appeared on her face as well.

  She typed and looked, typed and looked. With each passing moment, Eden’s calm eroded. She hadn’t even stepped foot on Sicilian soil and she’s already running into a big snag. She looked around her, at the near-empty boarding area. The man next to her seemed blissfully unaware of any trouble. He was texting away like mad on his phone, oblivious. But then he probably wasn’t about to get bumped from his flight.

  “Miss Espinoza. It appears that the next flight to Palermo with an open seat is … seven days from now.”

  “Seven days?” Eden exclaimed. “But, that’s too late. I’m only here for a week.”

  Both women had dropped their impatient expression and looked genuinely sorry.

  M. Brassi shrugged and gestured helplessly at the computer. “The computer says all the flights are full until then. We checked and checked again.”

  “Um,” Eden said, trying to think. “There’s another airport in Sicily, isn’t there?”

  Their faces lit up. “Si, one in Catania,” M. Brassi said, relieved. “You want us to look for the next flight there?”

  Eden nodded eagerly. “Sure, how far is it from Agrigento?”

  R. Viola pursed her lips, “Mmm. Approximately two hours drive.”

  “Huh,” M. Brassi said as she scanned the computer. The frown had returned. She shook her head. “I do not know how or why but all flights to Catania are booked as well until next week.”

  Eden’s stomach dropped.

  M. Brassi went back to typing in the computer, even faster this time, a determined look on her face.

  After a few minutes, she shook her head again, looking confused. Glancing from the monitor to Eden, she said apologetically, “There are no flights to either Palermo or Catania with any open seats departing from any city … until next week.”

  “None at all? How can that be?”

  “It is very, very unusual, but that is what the computer says. I am very sorry. It also says,” she raised her eyebrows at the monitor as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, “That Alitalia will compensate you for this inconvenience with one week accommodation in Rome, at any hotel of your choice, and a voucher for a round trip ticket from San Francisco to any European city in the future, to be redeemed at any time within the next year.”

  R. Viola gasped. She looked at the monitor and then at Eden. “Wow!”

  Eden felt like crying, but she managed to hold onto a semblance of calm. “I’m sorry,” she shook her head, “But I really need to get to Sicily. Rome is great though, I’m sure. I just …” She faltered. “Where’s the nearest train–“ she cut herself off. “Sicily’s an island. Can’t take a train.”

  Can’t take a plane. Can’t take a train. Can’t drive over there. She wondered how long it would take to swim to Sicily.

  “Wait,” she exclaimed, suddenly excited. “Where’s the nearest port from here? I’ll take a boat.”

  The man next to her started coughing violently.

  “Would you like some water?” Eden asked, alarmed. She got out her water bottle.

  The man raised a hand towards her and shook his head, embarrassed.

  “Thank you, no. My throat just has a bit of a tickle,” he said in a light voice with a charming British accent. He was handsome, she was forced to notice, with undeniable movie star looks. Sparkling aquamarine eyes, chiseled features, glossy black hair. A strong jaw with an impossibly perfect cleft on his chin. He smiled at her with a flash of
even, white teeth. The effect was dazzling. No wonder M. Brassi and R. Viola didn’t notice her at first.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing your dilemma, miss …”

  “Espinoza,” she replied as she put her water bottle back in her bag. She got out her laptop, ready to do some quick research.

  He came closer to her and tilted his head so they were eye-to-eye. He wasn’t just handsome, he was alarmingly, heart-racingly so.

  “Perhaps I could be of some assistance? My friend and I were supposed to be flying to Palermo on this flight but he just texted me to say he can’t make it. Would you care to take his seat? It would go to waste otherwise.”

  Eden was speechless for a moment before uttering a grateful, “Yes! Thank you!” She wanted to jump up and down but restrained herself. She stuck out her hand, “Er, uh, Eden Espinoza.”

  He shook her hand, amused, “Charming. Jack Knightley at your service.”

  Eden giggled inside. She immediately thought of Jane Austen. The dashing Mr. Knightley to her rescue. “So how much do I owe you?” she said promptly, taking out her wallet.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. As I said, the seat would have lain empty. You get to go to Sicily and I get a lovely traveling companion.”

  She smiled at him.

  “Why, thank you again.”

  She turned to M. Brassi and R. Viola, who were both looking at her with great envy. “Is this okay? Me taking over his friend’s seat? Is that allowed?”

  Jack leaned over the counter once more. “The seat’s bought and paid for. Surely we can transfer it in her name?”

  M. Brassi shrugged her shoulders. R. Viola threw up her hands. They were no match for Mr. Knightley’s seductive smile. He gently guided them to putting her name on his friend’s ticket. Eden just watched in quiet amazement, sure that they were all participating in something that was against the rules. But she didn’t care. All she needed was to get to Sicily.

  She and Jack made small talk while they both waited to board. Although she was relieved to be making this flight after all, his flirtatiousness presented a wrinkle. She couldn’t discourage his attempts to engage her in conversation like she would others. She had an obligation to talk to him. She purposely gave vague answers to his questions, and instead deflected by asking him about himself. He was a businessman who lived in London, she found out, and was going to Sicily for a few days’ vacation. When he began talking about how sad he was about being by himself in Palermo, Eden’s internal alarm started buzzing. Soon he would suggest having dinner together and she would have no choice but to accept. The flight was over an hour long and he gave every indication that he was looking forward to spending the entire time talking to her. Eden hastily drew up a plan.

  Upon boarding the plane and finding their seats, which were next to each other, Eden excused herself, saying she had to go to the bathroom before takeoff. She stayed inside for as long as she could, until she heard the people in the cabin settling down. When she came out, she was surprised to see that the plane was only half-full. Yet it appeared that all the passengers for that flight had boarded already. The doors were shut and the flight crew was preparing for takeoff.

  She sat down and strapped her seatbelt on. “That’s strange. Half the seats are empty,” she said to Jack.

  He shrugged. “Must have been a computer glitch of some sort. Anyway, I’m delighted that it led to us becoming friends.” His close proximity was heady. Those piercing blue eyes, that smile just a few inches away. He was probably the most perfect creature she had ever talked to. She had difficulty resisting his magnetism.

  “Yeah,” she replied. “It’s delightful.” She covered her mouth as she yawned deeply. “Oh, my, I’ve been up since three this morning. And all this excitement has worn me down.” She smiled her prettiest smile at Jack and slowly lowered her eyelids so that she looked sleepy. “I can’t seem to keep my eyes open. I think I’ll take a little catnap.”

  Without waiting for him to reply, Eden leaned against the window and closed her eyes.

  The flight was uneventful. The flight attendants seemed to come by every five minutes to ask Jack if he needed anything, so Eden didn’t feel so bad about her little ruse. As she pretended to sleep, she went over what she would do as soon as she got off the plane. She had to make the most of her every minute in Sicily. Almost missing this flight only spurred her determination and sharpened her focus.

  She “slept” through the entire flight and only “woke up” when Jack tapped her shoulder to tell her that they had landed in Palermo.

  “You made a fetching picture while you slept,” he teased.

  He was also the most charming man she had ever met. Drat.

  “Do you need to pick up your luggage at the carousel?” she asked as he fetched her bags from the overhead bin.

  “No,” he said, patting his carryon.”I travel light. You?”

  “Oh,” she said in an attitude of regret. “I checked in luggage. I can’t travel with at least half the contents of my closet.” She gave a lighthearted, frivolous laugh. “So I guess this is where we part ways, Jack.” She stuck out her hand. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you. Thank you again for coming to my rescue.”

  The perfection of his smile wavered just a bit. He shook her hand. “The pleasure was all mine, Eden.”

  They started moving down the aisle to the exit.

  “Say,” he said, “I’ve an idea. Why don’t we take a taxi into Palermo together? Save on the fare. You did say you were going to stay in Palermo, right?”

  Eden was walking ahead of him so he didn’t see her grimace. She looked back at him with an apologetic smile. “Actually, a friend of mine is coming to pick me up. He’s promised to take me around Sicily while I’m here.”

  “Oh,” Jack said, clearly disappointed. How astonishing, Eden thought, that such a gorgeous man was interested in her. A shame that she had to abruptly cut him off, but Eden knew he wouldn’t want for female company anywhere. Practically every woman was ogling him as they made their way through customs.

  “This is my line,” she nodded to the long queue for non-European Union travelers. His line was on the other end, and it was fast moving. “Have fun in Palermo!” she said cheerfully.

  “You too.” He stood next to her. It seemed as if he wanted to say something else. “Well, perhaps I’ll see you and your friend around in Palermo. Ciao.”

  Eden smiled noncommittally. When he finally walked away, she kept her eye on him and let people go in front of her in the line. Once she saw that he had passed through, she felt easier.

  She passed through customs and quickly looked for signs for the train. She felt a strange excitement, one which seemed to overcome what apprehension she would usually feel upon landing in a foreign country. Fate had saved her from being stranded in Rome indefinitely. That meant fate was on her side.

  She found the train to Agrigento without too much trouble. Being polite and smiling went a long way. People seemed to want to help her despite her unfamiliarity with the language.

  She didn’t rest easy once she boarded, however. Getting on the right train was a breeze. The challenging portion of her mission, the part that struck fear into her heart, still lay ahead. Driving in Italy.

  The car she got at the rental place right outside the train station in Agrigento was not the shiny new Fiat she signed up for online. Instead she got a battered-looking Hyundai. It was tiny but looked serviceable and would get good gas mileage. She would need it. When Adam said he lived in Agrigento, she didn’t realize that Agrigento referred to both the city proper and the entire region. She had a lot of kilometers to cover in one week.

  She pulled out of the rental car parking lot, scared and thrilled. Driving in a foreign country would be #1 in her 37 list.

  From the directions she had been given, she knew her hotel should have been only 15 minutes away, but it took her over an hour of wrong turns, more than once into a one-way street and being met with angry blasts of the horn and drivers
swearing at her. After the third time it happened, she wasn’t scared any more. Being cursed at in a language you don’t understand had surprisingly little effect. It was dark by the time she pulled into the hotel, grateful, dead tired, and ready to kiss the hotel bed. Merely arriving felt like half the battle.

  She awoke the next day refreshed and feeling electrified. Adam was within reach, less than an hour away. Now all she had to do was find him.

  She pored over the road map of Agrigento she got at the car rental place. She had painstakingly combed through all their e-mails and written down everything she could remember about what Adam had told her. From some of their early e-mails, when he would write that he was leaving the café and would write her again when he arrived home, she deduced that home was approximately 1/2 hour from the café, which would mean downtown. Her logic was that her search would be confined to a 1/2 hour from the downtown area of Agrigento proper in every direction, give or take a few kilometers. It was a workable and doable radius. She would simply start driving and look for an old mill house with a water wheel and surrounded by lemon trees outside. It would be on a sizable property because Adam liked having a lot of land. During one rainy night, he mentioned that his house was near a bridge. How many mill houses near bridges could there be?

  She had noted the times he said he had been to a café and shops, which tended to be in the middle of the day, around lunchtime. She decided to go driving in one section of the map during the morning, spend 2-3 mid-day hours downtown where he might be, then go driving again in the afternoon until sunset. She’d come back downtown when it was time to eat dinner, in case he went to a restaurant.

  Her plan was straightforward and methodical. In the back of her mind was the thought that this was the last crazy thing she would ever do, but now she was in the thick of it, she might as well give it all she had. She set out on her first day filled with optimism.

  She knew that Adam’s house wouldn’t be in any densely populated areas, but farther out, yet still have shops and restaurants within reasonable reach. Since the area was also near some Roman ruins, a tourist landmark, he wouldn’t stand out as much as if he were the only Englishman in a remote and obscure village. She skipped all the suburban-looking neighborhoods with houses close together. His house would be out in the countryside, likely at the end of a narrow, unpaved and unmarked road.