by PJ Nakfoor
“Thank you, I’ll be okay in a few minutes,” I answered, “It’s the heat.”
“I’ll get you some water,” he said. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I watched him walk over to a stand where a man was selling cold drinks. He returned in a minute and handed me a bottled water.
“Oh, thank you!” I said, as I took a long drink.
“Are you with anyone?” he asked.
“Yes, my family is close by. I’ll be fine. Thank you again for helping me. Are you from the United States?”
“Yes, I’m here for a study abroad semester. I go to the American University in Washington D.C.”
Now that I was calmer, I could look at him more closely. He had a friendly countenance, with green eyes and dark brown hair which he wore in a man bun. He was dressed in skinny jeans, a white tee-shirt and white Converse sneakers.
“How about you? American?” he asked.
“Yes, I live in Michigan. Thank you again.”
“I’ll be right over there,” he said, pointing to a statue, “taking some pictures. If you need anything else, let me know.”
He turned and walked away, and by then I felt better. Just knowing that there were good people willing to help calmed me. But I still had to find my family. I sat and drank the water while contemplating my next steps.
I thought about Dr. Chatterjee and remembered what she said about the woman who discovered EMDR by watching birds in flight while thinking about her anxiety. Could this work for me? At that moment, I saw a woman about twenty yards away open a small folding stool and set up a harp. She was lovely, with long, dark hair and she wore a flowing lavender and yellow floral sundress. I held my head still and darted my eyes back and forth between her fingers gently plucking the harp strings, and a little boy holding his mother’s hand while they listened to the music. I let the beautiful tune lift me to a zone of relaxation, and then pushed myself to remember little Vivi becoming lost and being abducted. When I felt my fear mounting, I then visualized her waking up on a summer morning in a cozy little-girl bedroom, wondering what excitement the day would bring. I repeated the images while my eye movements continued for five or six minutes, and I gradually felt serenity and confidence grow within me.
When I was done, I stood on the bench and searched for the fountain I had used as a landmark. There it was, about thirty yards to my left—it had been difficult to see at ground level when I was surrounded by people. I stepped off the bench and strode bravely toward it. I felt like I had shrugged off a cloak of fear. As I got closer, I became reoriented and was able to locate my family at the table.
“Mom! Are you okay? You were gone for a while and we were getting nervous. When I called you, I heard your phone ring inside your bag. We were ready to start searching.” Faith spoke a mile a minute, and Shane and Luis expressed relief.
“I took a little detour, but here I am!”
* * *
The next morning, Alessandra took us to see the Pantheon and the Colosseum. I was absolutely dumbfounded at the enormity of the mighty buildings.
Alessandra told us about the history of Pantheon, a former Roman temple which was converted to a Catholic Church during the seventh century, after Pope Boniface IV had it rid of its evil pagan spirits. I stood in awe, looking up at its huge stone columns and portico, and was amazed at the skill and perseverance it must have taken to build such a massive and solid temple almost two thousand years ago. I felt the size of a grain of sand on a beach when I thought of the generations that had lived before me, and the ones yet to come.
I’d read about the Colosseum in my guidebook that morning, and it gave me chills to think of all the people who had died there in gladiator contests or executions. Alessandra said that Italy had condemned capital punishment in 1948, and now the Colosseum had become a symbol of opposition of the death penalty.
“In fact,” she said, “whenever anyone in the world is exonerated from capital punishment, the Colosseum’s night-time illumination is changed from white to gold.”
While I was grateful to visit these ancient structures and learn just a bit of their history, I also felt sad that I’d allowed myself to be sheltered for nearly forty years. Hopefully, I had another forty to experience more of our world’s wonders.
* * *
We had dinner reservations at Nannarella, located in the Trastevere district—near the central Tiber River—and known as one of the best places to dine in Rome according to Alessandra. As we stepped out of the taxi, I was surprised that it was a rather plain, pink-and-blue stucco building. We were greeted by the swarthy, handsome maître d’, a man with a smooth, velvety voice. It was a beautiful evening, so we asked to be seated at an outdoor table which was charmingly set with silver and glassware under a blue table umbrella. Starving, we ordered antipasto and wine and perused the menu. When the Chianti arrived, I offered a toast to Faith because the next day would be her nineteenth birthday. Then I told my family about my getting lost in St. Peter’s Square the day before and about the college student who helped me.
“Mom!” Faith said. “How did you find us?”
I shared about the woman playing the harp and how I was able to use my EMDR techniques to overcome my anxiety and figure out how to get back.
“Sis, that deserves another toast,” Shane said, raising his glass of sparkling water.
Luis ordered Straccetti, a dish of beef, parmesan and roasted potatoes, and Shane chose Pollo alla Romano, chicken and potatoes cooked with peppers “Roman style.” Faith and I couldn’t get enough pasta, so she ordered Rigatoni al pesto with pine nuts and cherry tomatoes, and I had the Pasta Carbonara.
The food was prepared beautifully and served steaming hot, along with plenty of crusty bread and lemon-infused olive oil. We ate while we listened to Italian folk music streaming from outdoor speakers. I watched the attentive servers bow and dip while they carried large silver trays and spoke to one another in the beautiful Italian language that I had come to love.
Espresso was served after the lengthy meal and I watched Faith’s face as she realized what was happening next. Four servers surrounded our table, one presenting a heavenly tiramisu, and he made a grand display of placing it in front of Faith, whose eyes were as large as plates. They broke into the Italian rendition of Happy Birthday, singing in harmony, and then each took a deep bow and left us to celebrate.
Although we were full after the large meal, we each had room for a slice of tiramisu and a final toast as we raised our glasses to one another.
“Here’s to Carl,” I said. “And to the promise of the rest of our lives.”
Acknowledgments
FEAR OF FEAR is my second novel and unveils the stories of humankind’s struggles and triumphs.
Thank you to my family—Chris, Christian and Louis for your love and support, and especially for helping me understand the technical aspects of writing, publishing and marketing.
I’m grateful to my sister, Julie Nakfoor Pratt, Chief Prosecuting Attorney, and David Banister, Chief Assistant Prosecutor, of Barry County, MI for sharing your expertise of the family court system and for walking me through the process of an arrest and eventual criminal trial.
Many thanks to my friend, Haz Alwattar (aka Haz Montana), for sharing your experience as a radio industry veteran, including program and talent consulting, development of audio and digital media strategies, and of course, your humble beginnings as a DJ while studying at Michigan State University.
Much appreciation to Janice Stevenson of Carlisle Canoe Livery in Grayling, MI for graciously taking my cold call to teach me about all things canoe.
Thank you to my patrolman friend—you know who you are—for spending time to educate me on the intricacies of emergency helicopter and marine rescue of lost and injured adventurers.
Hugs to my editor, author Lev Raphael, for your patience and encouragement, and to Susie Poole, of Poole Publishing Services, for your creativity and positivity. The two of you are priceless.
> I’d also like to give credit to the Medical News Today newsletter where I located an article on the history of EMDR and its use in treating PTSD. Fascinating!