by Bella Donnis
Erin laughed and covered her face with her free hand. “I’m a physiotherapist…You can tell I’m no poet…It was amateurish.”
Gianna cupped her hands together and dropped them to the bed. “I understand now how much I hurt you. I hope you can forgive me?”
Erin looked deep into her eyes, those beautiful, intense and hawkish pearls that had the power to captivate, even now. But still, there was something missing – Something that words could never describe. “There is nothing to forgive.” Erin said, “I understand your reasons. Besides, you are not the same person I knew ten years ago.” Erin saw her eyes glaze over, her lips part. “Gia is gone! Replaced by a person who I don’t even know, some girl who’s given up, some girl who can barely look me in the eye anymore. You’re not the same Gia who I won a rowing medal with, who pushed me to be better no matter how uncomfortable it was for me.” It was the other speech Erin had prepared in case she ever saw Gianna again and it pained her to say it, as much as it pained Gianna to hear it, evidenced by her eyes that shimmered with the early formation of tears. “I offered you a chance to return to England, that place where you yourself said you were happiest, to start afresh, but you’re too cowardly to take it. You’d much rather see yourself ruined by a gangster and date people who’ll only drag you down with them because for some stupid reason you’ve come to the conclusion that’s all you deserve. Well you’re wrong! It used to be that I was the coward…But now it’s you. At least I had my reasons. What are your reasons for letting yourself down so badly? I know you’ve had your setbacks, but guess what Gianna…Life goes on!” Erin turned her head away. “What do you think Marco would think of you now?” Erin squeaked. God, how she hated what she’d just said – But it was more than necessary.
She heard the breath catch in Gianna’s mouth.
Now that speech took courage. The courage to be honest with the person most loved, regardless of how it would make them feel – The truth! The same truth she only wished she could have told Ben many years ago.
What Gianna didn’t know was that Erin’s motivations for the speech were different to what she most probably thought. It was Gianna, who all those years ago, pushed Erin to be better. Although Erin’s approach was different, she now tried to return that favour, in her own way. Deep down, Gianna was still that girl who grabbed life with both hands and shaped it to her own liking, rather than allowing out of control events to dictate life to her. Erin knew she was being cruel to her, cruel to be kind, for lack of a better expression. It was tough love, sink or swim. Erin had another chance to try and achieve what she had attempted at the surgery, when she said her goodbyes to Gianna. What would Gianna do now? Would she descend back into the abyss she was headed, permanently beat down because like many others, life had dealt her a few bad hands. Or would she, after hearing the truth from Erin, try and turn her life around? Either way, because of the shitty circumstances, not to mention living in a different country, Gianna would have to find the strength to do it on her own.
Sometimes friendship, as well as love, meant knowing when to allow them to make the journey alone, even if it would be painful for both.
Gianna’s arm shook. “I’m so sorry and you’re right. I’m a huge disappointment, not just to you and everybody else, but to myself.”
Erin reached over and pulled the poem from her hand. “I’m glad I wrote this and I’m glad I found it again. It’s enabled me to deal with problems I’ve repressed for too long. What did you learn? Are you Gianna or Gia?” Erin tore the tattered piece of paper down the middle, doubled it over, then tore it again and again as she winced from a shooting pain in her ribs.
Gianna stood from her chair, to Erin’s surprise, there were no tears. “I think I should go.” She held her chin a touch higher than before, clenched her fists and rolled her shoulders back. “I hope this is not the last time we see each other.” She even held Erin’s gaze before leaning in to embrace her lying down.
Erin opened her arms and clasped them around Gianna’s back. Did she get it? Had she taken the bait and understood everything Erin had said? More importantly – Would she act? “I very much hope so too.”
After a few minutes, Gianna slowly pulled away and kissed Erin softly on the lips. Then she gently brushed a few strands of loose hair from Erin’s eyes, smiled and straightened up.
Then Gianna turned around and without looking back, she was gone.
Spaccanapoli was never as deserted as this. Where were the dense crowds of locals and tourists that constantly enforced a painfully slow walking pace? Instead, as Gianna pottered along the ancient street at her own, self-enforced painfully slow walking pace, only a scattering of people lingered. They seemed just as surprised as Gianna, for they all to the man or woman had some unearthly blank countenance.
Gianna approached the espresso bar where only days earlier she’d spent time with Erin. Outside, a beautiful woman sat at a table, sipping her coffee. Three tables along, a man stole glances at the woman as he dried his palms on a napkin. He should just go over and talk to her, Gianna thought to herself. How hard could it be? Gianna pottered by them and looked with interest at the man. He didn’t notice her. What was with his eyes? It was almost like he was sleep walking, or sleep staring.
Spaccanapoli remained eerie and silent as she continued. What was with Napoli today? Then a handful of people emerged at the crossroads ahead, walking across Gianna’s front from both directions. An elderly woman, hunched over at the shoulders, appeared as if from thin air. She shuffled along the street a short distance in front. A man, close to the old woman, made a move for her bag, attempting to tear it from her grasp. The bag strap was wound tight around her arm and he struggled to detach it. Gianna looked at the other men, in expectation they’d intervene and help the poor woman. Three of them looked on, torn over what to do. One took a step forward, but then halted. Another looked around him, as if searching for assistance. The third man reached out with an arm, but took no steps closer.
Then the thief, with bag, scurried off into the dark as the old woman tried to come to terms with being robbed. Gianna glared at the three men, their eyes blank – Shame perhaps? They’d have to live with that for the rest of their lives.
Gianna turned back to the old woman, to offer her help and a walk home. But she was gone. “What is going on?” Then the three men continued along the intersection and soon, they too were out of sight.
Gianna took a few deep breaths before continuing, maintaining a tight grip on her bag.
Ahead, in the area where street performers usually gathered, a solitary man stood by a table. On it, boxes were lined out, crammed with DVDs – Knock off, of course. He smiled at Gianna as she neared him – Finally. Gianna was beginning to wonder if she was invisible this evening.
“Business not too good today, huh?” She asked, coming to a halt in front of the stall.
He raised an eyebrow, “I’ve never seen anything like it. One minute, it was like any ordinary day and the next, people were vanishing in all directions. Even Mario the opera singer took his collection and left. But yes, business stinks today, but what can you do?”
“I’m sure it’ll pick up soon.” Gianna turned her feet in the direction she was headed.
“Well how can I interest you in Pompeii? Have you seen it? It’s got that ‘you know nothing Jon Snow’ guy in it. The recording is actually pretty good…Only a couple of people blocking the picture around the eighteen minute point…Only five Euros.” The man said, not blinking once.
“I’m ok, but thank you anyway.” Gianna took a step away.
“Not into post-apocalyptic stuff? I don’t blame you…Too depressing. How about the new Jennifer Aniston film? I’ll let you have it for five Euros.” The man’s voice, animated before, had now become almost monotone.
“Thanks, but no. I have to go.” Gianna moved down the street, hitching her shoulders as a cool gust of wind sent a shiver down her spine.
The man shouted after her. “Well then, how about
the Italian classics? Have you seen Malena?”
Gianna froze. Did he just say what she thought he said? She turned around. The man stared blankly forward. “What did you just say?” Gianna shouted, striding back to the man.
“What?” The man asked, almost with a whisper as Gianna arrived back at the stall.
Gianna studied the man. Wavy brown hair with flecks of grey, sun weathered and almost leathery skin, the rough hands of a grafter. She’d never seen him before in her life, yet it was as though she’d known him a long time.
Of all the things Erin had said over the last few days, of all the conversations Gianna had yet to analyse within her own mind, there was one thing Erin had said at Parco Virgiliano that came to the fore. ‘Fate can only take a person so far. After that it’s up to you to show some courage and account for the rest.’
At the time, Gianna had not known what she meant. But now Gianna understood everything.
“I’ll take a copy.” Gianna said, handing over ten Euros. “And keep the change.”
Part Three
Cambridge II
Chapter Twenty
Vallensbaek Strand
He’d left Italy as fast as he could, driving straight past the great towns and cities he intended on visiting. Well, all except for Venice where Ben spent a few lonely nights; after all, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see Venice, even if circumstances dictated he couldn’t enjoy it.
After Venice, Ben finally completed the lifelong ambition of traveling around Austria. The Alps were everything he expected and more. After three weeks, and still not ready to return to England, he continued. Switzerland, where he spent two weeks, was particularly beautiful and although there was probably no place on earth more expensive, nine Euros for a Bigmac, Ben didn’t give a shit – Not on this trip.
From Switzerland he took the car into the southern French Alps, spending considerable time in the many picturesque French villages where he took a fancy, too much of a fancy, to the local wine.
The thought crossed his mind to return home after France, but instead, he just carried on going, and why not? After all, Barcelona wasn’t that far away. After falling in love with the entire Catalan region of Spain, Ben then headed into southern Spain, reaching as far as the cliff top castles of Granada and Cordoba. Cadiz was like somewhere on a different planet altogether, as was Seville which possessed the most incredible plaza. From there, he headed north through Portugal where he considered boarding a ferry back to England.
But no – He wasn’t done yet. And even though he received calls from his company, politely enquiring as to his state of mind, Ben simply told them he’d be home when he was ready, so leave me alone. He was thirty one years old, had never travelled and now he was doing what he should have done many years ago.
Ben took the car north through the vineyard regions of western France where he spent Christmas and New Years, before turning east, deciding on skipping the city of love, Paris, and ending up in Belgium where he toured all five major tourist cities; Bruges, Ghent, Brussels, Antwerp and Liege.
Since the Netherlands never really interested him, he skipped over it and instead drove straight into Germany where he became particularly fond of Cologne. After a month in Germany, he made up his mind to go even further and head for Norway – He’d always wanted to see the Aurora Borealis. This meant that on the way, he’d have to drive through Denmark and Sweden – Oh well, it was a rough job, but somebody had to do it.
He took his time, enjoying the wonderful Danish culture and impressively long bridges that spanned the western Baltic Sea.
Copenhagen, now only twelve miles ahead, Ben had heard was one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The only problem was that darkness was upon him and Ben did not wish to see the city for the first time in the dark. So he made the small, supposedly inconsequential decision of booking in at a medium sized, outwardly unimpressive looking hotel in the middle of a small boring town he’d never heard of. He squinted again at the sign on the roadside, “Vallensbaek Strand,” he said, doubting he pronounced it correctly.
And so – Almost six months since he last saw Erin, and with a heart on the road to recovery, he booked in for three nights at the unpronounceable Scandic Hvidovre. He figured it’d make a good base, being so close to Copenhagen.
It was five in the evening when finally, Ben dumped his bags in the room and sat on the edge of the bed whilst, for several minutes, contemplating the blank wall to his fore. “Bugger this, let’s get a drink.”
He smiled at the hotel concierge as he bypassed the front desk and headed for the lounge area, ordered some local Danish beer he had no idea how to pronounce and took a seat in the corner of the lounge, as far away from all other people as possible.
Opening his copy of Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest, he flicked to page twelve and continued where he’d left off in Napoli. He grunted, “what a shit hole.” He’d never return there, even if it wasn’t that bad a place once you learnt to deal with the traffic and errant former fiancés. Whatever she was doing now, he wished her well.
He closed his eyes, breathed and then finally managed to bring his eyes to concentrate on the text.
Feminine sobbing from somewhere close, just over the top of the book soon interrupted his flow. Ben pinched the bottom corner of page thirteen as his eyes neared the final paragraph of the page. Then the sobbing was joined by the high pitched squeal of a young child. “I’ll finish the first chapter one day.” He turned the page, but concentrating on large blocks of text in ye olde English proved a task too difficult with distractions in such close proximity.
Ben tapped his fingers against the chair’s arm rest in a heavy rhythm and slammed the book shut.
Then he saw the source of the distress.
A mother arched over her son, maybe six years old, as he rubbed his knee. The mother was facing away as she held the boy’s below the knee prosthetic, her long blonde hair which flowed down her back stealing Ben’s attention from the boy. Her slender waist gave way to slightly broader hips and slim legs which to Ben, was the epitome of Scandinavian beauty. But then the boy winced again, his knee suture raw from discomfort. The mother fumbled with the prosthetic leg, unsure of what to do. Then she straightened, placing the limb on the table and Ben saw the big blue eyes, the perfect symmetrical features, long thin lips and crystal clear skin – Fuck!
Ben blinked several times and rubbed the back of his neck. He tossed the book to the table in front, but overcompensated with his power and it slid off the far end and onto the floor. His fingers tingled and he cleared his throat. He rubbed the sweat from his palms against his jeans. His body, he knew, was undergoing the stimuli of the ancient fight or flight mode – A feeling he hadn’t experienced to this extent in nearly eleven years.
Ben stooped for the book, plucked it up from the floor and came to a decision – Back to the hotel room for him.
As he walked past the mother and son, the young boy looked up, smiled and wiped a damp sleeve across his face. Ben stopped, for whatever damned reason he couldn’t say, breathed and crouched down. “Hello young man, are you ok?” He hadn’t planned on doing this, he didn’t know why he did and his voice came out as an embarrassing high pitch which he hoped was because he spoke to the boy and not because his entire body was shaking from fear.
“He doesn’t speak English. He’s only six.” The woman stared down, hair coming to an end somewhere around that tight fucking midriff. God, but she was beautiful.
Ben smiled to the boy and straightened up, thankfully having a couple of inches height advantage over his mother, despite her height. “Do you mind if I…” he gestured to the limb on the table and took hold of it before the woman had chance to reply.
Her eyes softened, but only slightly. Doubtless she’d be used to having men try it on with her.
“The problem is that your young man has outgrown the limb.” He rubbed his finger along the titanium. “This is designed for ages four to six and,” B
en checked the screws, “there’s no more length to extend it any further.” Ben crouched down again and spoke to the boy, even though he couldn’t understand. “It only takes a millimetre; one leg longer than the other and you’re distributing your weight more onto the other leg. And that is what causes the soreness. It builds up over time, you see?” He looked upwards to the mother who then came to crouch down next to Ben. He spoke softly to her, “you need a new limb or the boy could suffer severe bone problems.” He handed the prosthetic back to her. “What’s his name?”
“Tobias.” The woman whispered. “I can’t afford another leg for him. I’ll have to sell the car.” She said, looking away.
When Ben returned to his room, he phoned Malcolm, his Director of Supplies. The only problem was that at six in the evening – What could be done?
Regardless, after a fourteen hour drive which included passage through the Channel Tunnel, Malcolm arrived in Vallensbaek Strand in time for breakfast.
“You’re fucking insane!” He declared, bringing a package out from the back seat. “Six months, I don’t hear shit and then you drag me out here with a moment’s notice.”
“I’m sure you enjoyed the drive.” Ben held out his arms and took the package. “You sticking around for breakfast?”
“Fuck that…I’ll have breakfast in Copenhagen…May as well while I’m here.” Malcolm said, clambering back into the driver’s seat.
“You should at least stretch your legs before getting back behind the wheel,” Ben joked, “perhaps I’ll ask another favour later on.”
“Fuck you.” The engine fired up. “I hope she’s worth it.”
“I’ll see you in the city. Perhaps we can brunch together?” Ben shouted as Malcolm drove away, flipping him the finger.
Ben took a seat in the hotel restaurant and ate breakfast. At a little before nine, the beautiful blonde and her son Tobias entered. Ben watched with interest as the boy, with crutches, expertly manoeuvred himself between the tables towards the buffet where his mother helped fill his plate. Then she carried both plates to an empty table at the other side of the restaurant.