Where Are You

by Bella Donnis

Because of the short notice, Erin had little time to prepare, pack, cancel appointments and, as her fingers created a trail of sweat over the touchpad, find out where the damn Italian could be located.

  She opened Google and typed in ‘Gianna De Luca Napoli.’ There were several listings under that name but the one that stood out, according to her LinkedIn profile, was the Gianna De Luca who operated as a small independent physiotherapist, not far from the centre of Napoli.

  So, she still possessed her birth name, ten years later - Interesting. “Hang on, Italian women keep their family name when they get married.” That much was true. So she wouldn’t apply much weight to that fact.

  Erin wrote down the address of Gianna’s practice as well as her contact number on a scrap of paper and buried it in her bag. Then she began tapping the desk with her fingers, leaving small round sweat dots on the wood. What did Gianna look like these days? Was she still the stunning girl she’d fallen in love with? She clicked on ‘Images.’ Unfortunately, nothing came up other than, rather bizarrely, pictures of horrifying artwork and a map of Napoli. Google Images could be so random at times.

  She sat and thought for a few minutes. They were leaving tomorrow morning. Erin couldn’t just turn up unannounced, with a smile and say, “surprise, here I am.” In fact doing something so rash would inevitably turn into a disaster. She should at least give Gianna some warning that she was in town and that if she had chance, she’d stop by for a coffee. Ugh, but it felt like arranging a first date, except the other person had no idea about it. At least sending an email in advance would come over to Gianna as being less stalkerish. What were the stalking laws in Italy? Were they anything like in England where they didn’t look too kindly upon such things?

  She decided to send the message via LinkedIn rather than by email. First of all, Erin didn’t possess her actual email address. Second, at least in her own head, Erin could just reason that she accidentally chanced upon Gianna’s profile in her professional network the day before she just so happened to be travelling to Napoli – It was all just a coincidence.

  Erin clicked ‘Send a message’ and after fifteen minutes, finally typed:

  Hi Gianna, I hope you remember me?

  I also hope you are well and happy. It’s been a long time. It just so happens I’ll be passing through Napoli for a few days from tomorrow. I thought it’d be nice to grab a coffee and have a catch up? How is Friday for you? I’ll drop by your practice around mid-morning. If not, then that’s cool.

  Ciao, Erin.

  She toyed with the idea of adding kisses to the message but decided against it. After reading through her words for the fifth time, she clicked ‘Send message’ with a clammy finger. “Done. No going back now.” She shut down the computer and began to pack.

  The not so funny thing was that Erin had always expected that one day, Gia would abandon her. The vision in Erin’s head had been that Gia would simply stop talking to her and start hanging out with other, cooler and more popular girls instead. It had happened many times throughout secondary school - Why would it stop at university? Though never had she expected that Gia would abandon her by skipping the country altogether and ditching her entire course and life in Cambridge without so much as a word. Was Erin really that bad? Had she really deserved all this?

  As the weeks wore on, exams came and went, rowing competitions were never entered into, girly chats never occurred and life itself seemed completely pointless.

  It had gradually dawned on Erin that Gia wasn’t returning when she’d missed all her exams and failed to hand in any course work even though posting it from Italy would have been an option. When Erin checked the notice board, scrolled down the exam results for the entire year and saw a whole row of zeroes next to Gia’s initials, she knew Gia had failed the year and would therefore not be permitted to progress to the second year.

  “She’s not coming back.” Erin gasped, the truth finally hitting her as once again, she hyperventilated and staggered from Downing College, the same building that was becoming increasingly difficult to be within.

  Her main regret – That she never got to tell Gia she was in love.

  That was the six week and two day mark.

  At three months Erin finally opened the curtains, revealing a section of the Cam they’d so often rowed. She stared at it for an unknown while, blinked away the tears and slipped on her trainers. “Must do something today.”

  She opened the front door and stepped onto the cobbles in the direction of Starbucks, her backpack filled with physiotherapy books. When she arrived she ordered a coffee, averting her eyes from the spot they used to sit at the opposite side of the room. She took a book from her bag, found the page and settled down for some reading.

  “Is it really her?”

  “I think so.” He said, rubbing his chin, but he couldn’t be certain.

  “When’d you last see her?”

  “I’m not sure…It’s been a while. A few months for sure.”

  “Where’s her dyke friend?”

  “How should I know…And don’t be so cruel.”

  “Come on…She’s a dyke and you know it.”

  “Most probably, yes.”

  “Which means that she is probably a dyke too.” He said, gesturing with his head to the girl sat over by the window.

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Will you stop being so cruel.”

  “Ok, fine.” He gestured again with his head toward the solitary girl, reading what looked to be a huge volume on physiotherapy. “She looks sad. But this is the only time she’s ever been in here without her cock block, so don’t chicken out on this one, right?”

  “Shit.” Every bone in his body shook. His throat, dry like his present run with the ladies, hurt when he swallowed. His hands, covered in coffee odour, mingled with the sweat that pushed through his pours, creating a disgusting residue on his fingers. “Shit, but this could be my only chance.”

  His friend patted him on the shoulder. “So don’t fuck it up. I’ll want a full report when you’re done.” He walked back downstairs. Like he’d ever approached a girl cold before, when no alcohol had been involved.

  He teetered in the girl’s direction as a large woman pulled out her chair, blocking his path, forcing him to jump sideways lest he get crushed. His legs were holding - That was a bonus. But by God, she was beautiful. He’d thought that since the moment he first saw her. That long, slender body with boobs that drew the eye like a street mugging. Her smile that lit up the otherwise dull Starbucks. Her grace as she walked, like the very heavens cleared a path for her. Best of all – That long silky red hair he dreamed of pressing his nose against, inhaling her smell, sent from the heavens. There was no way this perfect Goddess could be a lesbian. At least he prayed so.

  And then he was hovering before her and time stopped and nothing else existed in the moment but for himself and this girl.

  She looked up from her book and he hesitated. Was it even the same girl? Where was that spark, that life, that thing you just couldn’t put words to? Behind her eyes, it was like something was missing.

  “I’m sorry, I thought you were somebody else.” He said, almost relieved to have been let off, yet at the same time devastated he wasn’t finally speaking to his infatuation after so long.

  She held up a hand like she wanted him to stick around. “You’re that guy who always looks at me aren’t you?”

  Busted – At least he now knew it was the same girl. “You, um, you look really different.”

  “Is it the shaved head, by any chance?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes.” He rolled his eyes. “But there’s something else…I don’t know.” My God but he was actually speaking to her. He took the seat opposite. She seemed relaxed and happy with him being around, which he drew confidence from. She still looked amazing, even with an egg for a haircut, which really was saying something. He’d never normally look twice at such a girl, but this Goddess had been in his fantasies for so lon
g and now he was actually speaking to her, alone, without her friend, or whoever she was, he was damned if he’d let a silly thing like the fact she no longer possessed the red hair he coveted from stopping him at least getting a date. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Erin.” She held out a delicate hand.

  He took it and held on for longer than was polite, but he didn’t give a shit and she didn’t seem to mind either. And if she noticed his sticky, coffee smelling mitts then she showed no overt sign, which was saying something about her, because he was sweating and he did stink - Not just looks, but she was sweet too.

  “I’m Ben, it’s nice to meet you.”

  The white wall would soon change colour if she stared at it any longer. She wiped away a tear with her sleeve, took out a pen and notepad, opening it to a blank page.

  She began to write.

  The words flew, or rather spewed, from her, as though they’d been in her heart for weeks, months, trying to escape. The poem took a mere five minutes to complete, the paper smudged with tears.

  Afterwards, she decided not to read it through – What was the point?

  “This is goodbye, Gianna.” Referring to the damn Italian as her full name had been a way of distancing herself from the girl recently. It may have helped, at least a little.

  She reached for her copy of Orthopaedic Physiotherapy and placed the poem inside where the book fell open, at the section entitled ‘Isokinetic Dynamometry’ before slamming it closed. This particular book was no longer required reading - There was no chance of the poem ever resurfacing.

  She stood, placed the book at the back of the wardrobe, closed the door and returned to her desk.

  She picked up her phone and scanned down the list for that guy she’d met today in Starbucks. He was kind of nice, friendly, reasonably attractive and it was most definitely what she needed right now – A bloody distraction.

  “Hi…Yes, it’s me…What?...Why would you be so surprised?...I said I’d call…Ben, wasn’t it?...How’d you like to go for a drink?...No not tomorrow, how’s tonight?...Great!...No, not The Baron of Beef, I hate that place. Do you know anywhere else?”

  Part Two

  Napoli

  Chapter Ten

  Welcome To The Madhouse

  They say you can’t truly know a person until you’ve lived and been on holiday with them. It had taken all of three minutes from pulling the rental car out from the airport and onto the main road for Erin to see a new side to Ben.

  “What the fuck? Did you just see that lunatic?” He shouted as what looked like a helmetless twelve year old on a scooter swerved in front. “Oh, it’s just a matter of time my friend, it’s just a matter of time.” Several more near misses with scooters, some with up to three people riding them, occurred before we even entered the city centre, a mere two miles from the airport. There were also incidents with three hatchbacks, a truck, two heaps he couldn’t identify as well as several pedestrians. “Seriously, what the fuck? Why bother having traffic lights if you’re not going to use them?”

  Sure enough, the lights were a total waste of power. When Ben stopped at the first set, the car behind honked relentlessly before finally deciding to reverse and overtake, but not before giving the finger.

  Although Erin sympathised and dreaded the thought of driving in what resembled a madhouse, she was still surprised to see this calm man banging his opened hands in anger against the steering wheel, swearing at the top of his voice and generally poisoning the atmosphere.

  “Fuck…And you wanted to come here?” He glared at her, daring to take his eyes from the road for all of half a second.

  Indeed, if this was the city Gianna had been born and raised, then it might have gone a long way to explain her lack of volume control. It was a pity Erin never got to see Gianna drive, for that might have been an interesting experience.

  “The fucking noise.” Ben grunted, flinching as a scooter pulled up beside the stationery car. Sure enough, the constant hooting and honking of car horns permeated the air.

  “Hey, try not to let them wind you up. We’ll be at the hotel soon and then we can relax…Carry on straight ahead.” Erin tried to sound reassuring as she followed the map on her phone.

  “We’ve got a bond on this thing if you don’t recall.” He patted the wheel as he spoke, then turned to face the sunglasses wearing teenage girl on the scooter who now propped an elbow on the car roof as she awaited a path to clear through the traffic, though the road and pavements…yes, the pavements…were so dense with vehicles she made no attempt to squeeze through the cracks. “Hand off the car, hand off the fucking car.” He closed the windows and hastily turned on the air-circulation system as though it would save his life.

  After locating the hotel, the next task was finding a place to park and after driving around the block three times, Ben finally opted to park illegally, in the centre of the road between two opposite lanes. “Everybody else is doing it.” He conceded, straining against the weight of his suitcase.

  Upon entering the Grand Hotel Santa Lucia, Erin felt her blood pressure drop immediately. The place wasn’t large but it was air conditioned, thank God. Most importantly of all, the constant din from the outside was, for the most part, dampened out. The noise could still be heard but instead, it sounded like a crowd cheering in some distant football stadium, rather than actually being inside the stadium. Cars whooshed down the street which gave the constant sound and feel of the wind forcing its way through the opened door, augmented only by the higher pitched whiz of the scooters.

  The concierge took one look at his guests, smiled in sympathy, gestured with his arms opened wide, then spoke. “Welcome to the madhouse.” It was all enough to assume he took pride in it.

  “And you’re not joking, which is the funny thing.” Erin said.

  “Welcome to the Grand Hotel Santa Lucia.” He dropped his arms back to his sides. “Now, the first thing I need to ask you is…Do you have a car?”

  It was a strange question to ask up front, especially before checking them in, but Ben answered regardless. “Yes, a new rental, why?” He dipped his eyebrows, like he was expecting only bad news.

  The concierge breathed in, linking his fingers in front of his chest. “I’m afraid you’ll have to accept the very real possibility that your car has probably already been stolen, or at the very least, has been broken into and had its entire interior stripped.” Well that didn’t take them long.

  “What the fuck?” Ben ran his fingers through his hair before dashing from the building.

  “Honk your horn outside and I’ll open the gate.” The concierge shouted after him. “You see that, through there?” He gestured for Erin at a small rusted hovel of a car through a window at the side of the desk. “I paid seventy euros for that piece of shit. Nobody ever touches it…Other than the collisions of course, but they hardly count…I absolutely love it! If you can get through a single day in the city without a scratch, you’ll be the first to do so. Let me warn you never to rent or buy brand new cars in Napoli! In fact I’m surprised you weren’t told.”

  He checked Erin’s reservation and handed over the keys to the room. Ben honked the horn and the concierge pressed a button that opened an electronic gate. Thankfully it didn’t look like the car had been touched, yet.

  Ben returned as what had to be an eighty year old porter arrived to take the bags. His uniform consisted of smart black trousers along with contrasting t-shirt emblazoned with a thick black stripe running diagonally across.

  “Bit of an odd uniform?” Erin said, raising the pitch at the end of the sentence to make it sound like a question.

  “That’s not his uniform. You’ll see many of those t-shirts around Napoli, so the police think we’re wearing seat belts behind the wheel.”

  “Why?” She asked.

  “They make a law saying we must wear belts…We find a way around that law.”

  Oh Gianna – This is home? Did she really give up beautiful, peaceful Cambridge for this
place? She’d better have her reasons and they’d better be bloody good.

  “Breakfast is between seven and ten, check out on your day of departure is no later than ten.” Outside the hotel, a car smashed into the back of another, followed by the blaring of car horns that pierced Erin’s skull; the concierge didn’t flinch. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

  The streets of the historic centre of Napoli bustled with life, crammed in between the narrow walls that were built long before the population had exploded. Crammed was one word to describe the entire city, but especially the historic centre.

  On Spaccanapoli, that Erin remembered Gianna referring to on numerous occasions, literally meant split Napoli, dividing the entire historic centre down the middle; street performers stood every few metres apart, vying for the attention of paying tourists and locals alike. One red faced opera singer, tried and almost succeeded in being heard above the crowd.

  Erin and Ben had been exploring for the last hour and after having worked up an appetite had chanced upon what turned out to be one of the world’s most famous pizza restaurants, Il Pizzaiolo del Presidente.

  “It says they changed the name in honour of Bill Clinton’s visit in 1994.” Ben read from the English section of the menu, the back of which displayed a photo of the former President eating a slice of pizza, sitting not far from where they were.

  “You know, I heard pizza was invented in this city.” Erin said, watching Ben’s genuine interest. For all the faults of Napoli, they’d always have that claim. Gianna had often boasted of Napoli’s pizza, how it was the best in the world by a long, long way and how she missed not having proper pizza in England.

  “I can’t wait to try it.” He looked around the busy restaurant and caught the eye of the waiter, who came over and took their orders.