Where Are You

by Bella Donnis

  “Really?” Ben’s eyebrows elevated from a low squint to a higher position on his head. “You spent most of your second year watching me play cricket for hours on end, getting drunk on the pavilion.” It was a little bit of an exaggeration, but he had a point, sort of.

  “What’s cricket?” Gianna asked, saving Erin from the difficult question. “I’ve heard of it and semi recall seeing the boys tramping about in strange padded uniforms, but it’s not a game we play here in Italy.”

  Erin smiled at Gianna and considered how great she was for saving her from having to answer awkward questions - She understood, even now. And Erin still couldn’t believe she was actually sat next to Gianna at a table in a restaurant in Pompeii. Every minute since she walked into that amphitheatre had been a blur and she hoped she’d be able to recollect those precious moments later on. Erin looked to Ben and awaited his answer, with a raised brow of her own, which soon changed to a scowl when he didn’t.

  Ben exhaled and commenced… “Cricket is the Englishman’s baseball.” He finally said. “Though make no mistake, cricket was invented long before…”

  Gianna nodded politely and listened intently for several minutes as she fixed up cuttings of bread with cheese and ham or sun dried tomatoes before cramming them in her mouth. “I shall have to watch it sometime.” She said, this time covering her mouth with a hand. “Are you using this?” Gianna took her hand away to point at the butter beside Ben’s plate.

  “Go ahead.” He said, averting his eyes from the churned up mess in Gianna’s mouth. “Though you’ll probably find it the most tiresome experience of your life.” Ben said deadpan.

  “How are you enjoying the food Ben?” Erin nodded at his plate which contained a few assortments he’d hardly touched.

  “I think I’ve lost my appetite.”

  Erin suppressed the urge to kick him; now wasn’t the time or place. Instead she turned to Gianna. “You must know all the best places to eat in Napoli? We went to that Presidente place the other night.”

  “Il Pizzaiolo del Presidente?” Gianna stuck out her tongue, making a mock being sick sound she brought from somewhere at the back of her throat. “You don’t want to go there. The pizza is terrible. I’ll show you the best pizza in Napoli, it’s called Sorbillo.” Gianna tilted her head. “Really, Erin, you need a tour guide.”

  “And if it’s the best pizza in Napoli then that probably means it’s the best pizza in the world, right?” Erin asked, doubting Gianna would remember the reference.

  She straightened in her chair, gaining a few inches in height as her face exploded to life, “of course.” Wow, ok, maybe she did remember. “Erin, you have to let me show you Napoli tonight.” Gianna turned fully toward her, intercepting her hand as it was reaching for a slice of bread.

  Erin unleashed a ten year confined grin. There was not one thing she wanted more. But, there was just one problem, which killed her to say. “We’re supposed to be heading off to Amalfi. We already checked out of our hotel in the city.” The underwhelming words felt like drowning.

  Gianna pulled the face of a child who’d had her presents stolen on Christmas morning; a feeling Erin could relate to herself. “Well that’s just fucking shit!” Gianna sat back with a thump, banging her knee against the underside of the table and unsettling the water within the glasses. Whether intentional or not, it had the effect of impressing upon everybody else her displeasure as she glared her dissatisfaction toward Ben.

  After several seconds, Ben, who still sat aghast following Gianna’s outburst, spoke. “Maybe, we could check back into The Grand for a couple more nights.” He watched Erin as he said it, and though cautionary, there was the faintest curl from his lips and softening of the eyes at seeing the joy splash over his fiancé’s face.

  “Perfetto, perfetto, perfetto.” Gianna beamed, clapping her hands.

  Ben wasn’t stupid; he’d most likely know Gianna’s sexuality simply by having been around her for a few minutes, if indeed he hadn’t known before. And if, as Erin had thought, that Ben suspected the level of their previous friendship, then he showed no sign of it now – Giving his consent to his fiancé having a night on the town with a lesbian. This also meant more time in Napoli for him and less doing what he wanted to do. He’d hate returning to Napoli and Erin felt a pang of guilt wash over her, but Gianna was Gianna and exceptions had to be made. Erin would be sure to make it up to him during the remainder of their time in Italy.

  “Thank you.” Erin smiled and squeezed his hand.

  Ben squeezed back, but his eyes remained focused on Gianna. “So…How’s business?”

  “Business? Business is good, thank you, Ben.” She nodded a few times. “We’re on the up.” Then gave a thumbs up.

  “Any boyfriend, husband on the scene?” Ben asked and to Gianna, it probably seemed, with genuine interest. But to Erin – Either he wasn’t sure and was digging for information, or was deliberately, yet incredibly subtly, being insulting, which wasn’t like Ben at all.

  Doubtless they’d be having that conversation soon.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Back To Napoli

  It had been an eventful drive back to Napoli. The gradual increase in those pesky scooters began around five miles from the historical centre, raising Ben’s blood pressure to new territory as they, some with up to four people on board, swerved in front at high speed. How four people could appear so comfortable on a scooter was beyond Erin’s comprehension. Ben had learned to ignore the traffic lights once inside the city, but he did stop once at a crossing strip. That was when an old man in a small Fiat tried to shunt the rental forward just as a young family were crossing the road.

  “There goes the fucking bond, right there.” Ben turned his head to face the man, flipping his fingers at him. “It’s finally happened. I’m just surprised we lasted this long.”

  “Ben, settle down, it’s only money.” Erin tried to soothe him.

  “You knew I wanted away from this fucking city.” He slammed his open hands against the steering wheel. Napoli really did bring out the worst in him.

  “Well then why did you suggest coming back?” Not that Erin was complaining.

  “Because you backed me into a fucking corner, Erin.” He shook his head and stared into the rear view mirror. A line of four scooters squeezed through the small gap beside the car, Ben wincing as they did. “You and that Genie, whatever her name is.”

  “Gianna.” She turned to face Ben. “And you knew I wanted to see her.”

  “Did I? You barely seemed bothered you’d missed her the other day.”

  “Well I was bothered. She was probably the best friend I ever had. We have the rest of the trip to see some sites, but I want to spend a little bit of time with her first.”

  “To be honest, Erin, I’m beginning to wonder just what your friendship entailed.” He said, staring straight forward into the back end of a battered Citroen.

  It looked like Ben was trying to force that conversation to take place here and now, but Erin just wasn’t ready for it yet. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What do you bloody think it’s supposed to mean?” He asked rhetorically. “How stupid do you think I am?”

  “I think you need to say what’s on your mind, Ben.” Erin said, looking straight forward, hoping he wouldn’t – Not yet. Why had she thought she could take this trip with Ben and avoid the issue? It was bound to come up, but now the subject was introduced, the genie was out the bottle and dancing around, Erin wanted to stuff it right back in there. The entire situation was about to get so fucked up and somebody Erin cared for deeply was about to get hurt.

  But then, to Erin’s surprise, Ben said nothing. Instead he turned on the radio and some awful Euro pop blared from the speakers.

  Sometimes it was easier to ignore problems than confront them.

  Erin wiped away a few tears and reminded herself that this whole trip was for Ben’s benefit as well as her own. She needed to know if she still truly felt a
nything for Gianna and if not, then and only then could she put this whole matter to rest. Was Erin being naïve in believing that after all that, things could be perfect for herself and Ben?

  A short time after checking back into the Grand Hotel Santa Lucia, Erin set out in the direction of the Quartieri Spagnoli, or Spanish Quarter. Gianna had warned her it was the rough area of town, but that she’d be perfectly safe. “The Camorra are under control, so there’s nothing for anybody to worry about.”

  “Um, thanks, I’ll bear that in mind.” Erin had said as they departed separately from Pompeii.

  Just as with many other areas of Napoli, if it hadn’t been so overcrowded, with back to back traffic both on the roads and parked along every spare inch of pavement, making walking anywhere a huge challenge, then the Spanish Quarter would have been stunning. Unfortunately, the persistent cacophony of horns and car engines was far worse here than anywhere else Erin had so far experienced in the city. The streets were formed into giant grids, similar to the present day American system, though Erin guessed that the streets had been this way here since the Romans. Although the streets were reasonably wide, the buildings on both sides were dominated by large balconies that hung precarious, almost into the road, giving a claustrophobic false impression of being trapped in a restricted space. Laundry hung drying from many of the balconies which, along with hanging plant pots even further added to the confinement. It was almost hard to breathe as fumes from both car and scooter congealed thick in the air. Erin could not imagine a European city looking more in need of modernisation, but it was still beautiful in its own way and to lose it, whatever it was, would have been a tragedy as it was like stepping back in time at least two hundred years. “Well, it would be if it wasn’t for all the traffic.” Erin mumbled as she waited for a long line of scooters to whizz past before crossing the road.

  And there was Gianna’s building, as unimpressive as any of the others, sandwiched somewhere in the middle of a long row of conflicting structures. Many of the buildings had been painted all manner of colours, but Gianna’s was the only one in a row of nine that made do with the colour of the original rendering, which crumbled in large areas and gave it a filthy, haphazard appearance.

  Erin scanned up the list of names by the buzzer to find ‘De Luca’ faded in pen near the top. She pressed the button and within a second the door clicked.

  The first thing Erin noticed as she stepped inside was the fusty smell, most likely from the age of the building, heat and lack of air conditioning. But as she ascended the stairs, green patches of mould stretched along large sections of wall where the paint had stripped and crumbled to the floor, which would have been another contributor to the smell. Loud music boomed from somewhere in the direction Erin headed, a noise that was becoming familiar – Euro pop.

  Erin stopped outside number 41, small pricks of sweat from the climb in the heat moistening her forehead. She composed herself, breathed and knocked on the door.

  Gianna pulled the door open within a second, already beaming at her guest. “Hi.” She wore a long robe, her hair damp, doubtless from the shower.

  A light cool breeze from inside splashed over Erin’s face, bringing a welcome relief. “Hi.”

  “Well come on in.” Gianna held the door open. “Make yourself at home. I still have to get ready, but I shouldn’t be long.”

  Erin stepped inside, the flat noticeably cooler than the approach. The open balcony doors brought in a light breeze from the outside. “I see you’ve reverted to your old ways.” Erin joked, referring to the clutter which lay in almost every available spot. Clothes hung from doors, were heaped over the backs of chairs and in piles on the floor. Boxes were stacked four high in places, some overflowing with fabrics, papers and other artefacts. It took a moment for it to register, but all this couldn’t possibly belong to Gianna.

  “I’ve had all this stuff ever since my mum died.” Gianna shouted above the music. “I’ll have to go through it all eventually.”

  “I’m very sorry, I didn’t know.” Erin had to raise her voice, wanting to step closer to her, only to find a few too many obstacles in the way.

  “That’s ok, you weren’t to know. We have a lot of catching up to do.” Gianna gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyelids closer together as she stomped onto the balcony. Erin watched with bemusement as the Italian grabbed a broom, conveniently positioned, leaned over the far side, bending her body precariously over the rails toward her neighbour and struck the wooden shutters with the brush end. “Vaffanculo! Fate silenzio! Quante volte devo dirvelo?” She shouted whilst banging some more.

  Erin couldn’t guess as to what she’d said, and probably for the best, but a few seconds later the music died and Gianna, red faced, stamped back inside. “I was thinking I could show you Intra Moenia in Piazza Bellini tonight.” Gianna said as though the previous minute hadn’t happened.

  Erin tried to stifle the laughter, but couldn’t.

  The skin around Gianna’s mouth slackened as she took offence. “What are you laughing at?”

  “Oh, you just never change.” Even now, there was always some sort of a calamity wherever Gianna was involved.

  “I have noisy neighbours, alright.” Gianna thrust her hands onto her hips and stuck out her bottom lip. “And I really don’t think that’s anything to laugh about.” She smiled and clapped her hands together. “I’ll just throw something else on. Please, make yourself at home.” She walked into what Erin assumed to be the bedroom and tried to close the door, the clothes which hung over the top preventing it.

  “I’m in Gianna’s flat.” Erin whispered as she treaded about the room, just as muffled shouts in Italian came through the wall.

  In the far corner, furthest away from the balcony, a small opening which had been obscured from Erin’s view by several stacked boxes became visible as she manoeuvred herself around. It was the only part of the flat she’d seen which wasn’t filled with clutter. Erin gasped, her hand moved toward her mouth as an empty feeling built in her stomach.

  In the corner of the living room, built into the wall was a dedicated section with several portraits of a young man. The largest showed him wearing army fatigues in the desert. In other photos he was dressed in school uniform with some highlighting extremely picturesque vistas. He bore a striking resemblance to Gianna; the same hawkish eyes for one. “Her brother.” An army tag and chain rested below one framed photo and then Erin saw the crucifix, several candles spread out at intervals as well as an image of what had to be the Virgin Mary. “It’s a shrine.” Spread wider were photos of what must have been Gianna’s mum and dad. Erin stepped back as that empty feeling grew. “Poor Gianna.” Had Erin found her answers? She hoped Gianna would confide in her at some point.

  Erin took a seat on the couch just as Gianna emerged from the bedroom. She wore a knee length black skirt and white blouse which left everything to the imagination including her wrists. She looked to the floor and fidgeted with her cuffs as she manoeuvred through the living room to stand in a small gap several metres from Erin. “I, um…I’m ready, if you are.”

  Erin swallowed, the lump that had formed in her throat announcing its presence. She felt the urge to give Gianna a big hug, not only because of what she’d possibly just discovered, but also because, Erin could tell, Gianna was uncharacteristically self-conscious. She guessed this was because Gianna had lost much of her old confidence. Sure, she didn’t look the same as she used to, but Erin didn’t care about that. Erin stood and was about to open out her arms just as the shouts from through the wall jolted Gianna into action.

  She grabbed a heel from the floor and commenced striking against the plaster. “Taci, taci, taci, taci.” She shouted, still clobbering the wall. “These people will drive me insane.”

  Erin smiled and grabbed her bag.

  Piazza Bellini, a ten minute walk from the Spanish Quarter was certainly one of the more picturesque spots Erin had seen of Napoli. The large square was surrounded by municipal buildings
, some of the city’s more upmarket hotels and even a cathedral in one corner. In the square’s centre, a large fountain spouted water close to a drop surrounded on all sides by railing. Erin and Gianna stood by the rails, looking down at the ancient construction which was probably a bathhouse built into the old city walls.

  “It’s amazing how long some of these old Roman structures last.” Erin said.

  “Greek.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “This wall is Greek. The ancient Greeks founded Napoli long before the Romans.”

  “Bloody hell!” Erin’s mouthed gaped open. “Just how much is buried beneath the ground in this city?”

  Gianna smiled, nodded toward Intra Moenia and threaded her arm inside Erin’s as they set off at a stroll. “In all honesty, probably most of it. Napoli is an archaeologist’s dream.”

  Intra Moenia was situated central on the east side of the square with a large canopied seating area directly in front of the main entrance. “It’s adorable.” Erin said, feeling Gianna’s squeeze on her elbow.

  The outside wall, completely green from the ivy cladding made Intra Moenia stand out from all the others. Dozens of hanging flower baskets added to the greenery, even the canopy interior was like entering a garden.

  The evening gave a mild and welcoming breeze in the last remnants of the day’s sun as tourists and sightseers with backpacks were gradually replaced by tourists and locals in evening wear who were venturing out for a nice place to eat.

  They took seats at the only empty table, closest to the square. Erin couldn’t imagine a more beautiful place to finally be alone with the damn Italian.