Italian for Beginners Read online

  I nodded. “I know,” I said.

  She kissed my cheek, smiled at me, and climbed into the cab. Before she shut the door, she reached into her handbag and pulled out a gift bag. “I almost forgot,” she said, handing it to me. “For you. To remember us.”

  She smiled and shut the door to the cab. I watched as it drove away. As they turned the corner at the end of the street, she raised her hand in a small wave. I waved back, feeling sadder than I expected to. When she was gone, I reached into the gift bag and pulled out several small items wrapped in tissue paper, and one larger one. I smiled as I unwrapped them. She had given me silk scarves from the family store in three different colors—teal, beige, and pale pink. She had also given me a beautiful pashmina wrap in black.

  There was a little notecard enclosed with the gift. You will always be a Verdicchio, it read in perfect, ornate cursive.

  I smiled, unfolded the pashmina, and pulled it around me. It was soft and warm, and as I stood in the moonlight on the steps of the building I’d called home for the past few weeks, I felt a bit like I was being embraced.

  Marco and I helped Karina clear and wash the dishes, and after thanking her for the wonderful meal and agreeing to meet her in the morning before I left for the airport, I set out with Marco.

  He laced his fingers loosely through mine, and we walked in comfortable silence for a while. All around us, Rome glowed in the moonlight and under the street lamps that dotted the ancient roads. I felt so sad to be leaving this place.

  We strolled until we emerged on the Piazza Venezia, and suddenly I knew where Marco was leading us.

  “Are we going to our spot?” I asked with a smile.

  He smiled back. “Where it all began.”

  Five minutes later, we had reached the Forum and the stout brick wall where I’d fallen asleep four weeks ago. It felt like a lifetime ago.

  Marco pulled me into a hug. “I’m going to miss you, Princess Ann,” he said.

  “I’ll miss you, too,” I said. I took a deep breath. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  He nodded, and I could see in his eyes as we sat down that he already knew what I was going to say.

  I took a deep breath and tried to slow my pounding heart. “Marco,” I began, “you have changed my life, and I don’t know how to thank you for that.”

  He reached for my hand and squeezed it. He smiled sadly at me, but he didn’t say anything.

  I closed my eyes for a moment and opened them again. “Marco,” I said, “I don’t even know how to say this to you. But I don’t think I’m ready. I’m not ready to be with someone yet. It sounds crazy, because I’m almost thirty-five, but I think that in the past four weeks, everything has changed. And I have some growing to do.”

  “I know,” he said, nodding at me, a grim expression on his face.

  “It’s not you,” I said. “I think if the timing were different, we’d have a chance. And maybe that’ll happen in the future. I don’t know. But for now, even though it sounds silly, I think I need to take some time to myself.”

  Marco looked down at our intertwined hands. “It does not sound silly,” he said after a moment. “I think it sounds very wise.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly.

  “Do not be sorry,” he said. “It is the right thing.”

  I took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to hate me,” I said.

  He smiled. “That would never be possible.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner,” I said. “I didn’t know what to do. I’ve never felt this way before.”

  He nodded. “Neither have I,” he said. He took a deep breath. “I think I knew you were going to say this. But it is harder than I thought.”

  I nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “I’d like it if we could keep in touch,” I said. “And when I come back to Rome, I’d like to see you. Maybe things will be different in the future.”

  He thought for a moment. “I do not think so,” he said. “I think this is not your home.” He smiled at me. “It would have been nice, maybe. Me and you. But you are from America. I am from Italy. And I think that we would never be able to fully be a part of each other’s worlds.”

  “Sometimes things like that work out,” I argued.

  “Yes,” he said. “But more often, they do not.”

  The words hung between us in the awkward silence. Finally, Marco stood up.

  “I think I should go,” he said.

  I stood up, too, suddenly feeling panicky. Was I making a huge mistake? I didn’t want to let him go. “Can we just sit here for a while?” I asked, feeling silly the moment the words were out of my mouth.

  He hesitated and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I think I need to be alone.” He paused and added, “I will walk you home, if you like.”

  I shook my head. “That’s okay,” I said. I managed a faint smile. “This time, I know the way back to the apartment.”

  Marco smiled halfheartedly. “Cat, I am sure that we will be friends one day,” he said. “But please, let me contact you. I will when I am ready.”

  I took a deep breath. I was trying not to cry. “Okay,” I agreed.

  We hugged good-bye, and for a moment, I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to tell him that this had all been a giant mistake, that I could move to Rome, that maybe I could be with him forever. What if that was the right thing to do? What if I was making the biggest mistake of my life?

  “Thank you,” I said softly as I finally let him go. “For opening my eyes.”

  He shrugged. “No, Princess Ann,” he said. “I think you did that yourself.” He paused and smiled sadly. “Besides,” he continued. “This is the way the movie ends, isn’t it? We’re supposed to go our own separate ways.”

  I was silent. I was trying not to cry.

  Marco paused and smiled sadly. “If I may quote the movie again, ‘Life isn’t always what one likes, is it?’ ”

  “No, it isn’t.” I paused and tried to recall one of the last lines from the movie, as Princess Ann and Joe Bradley are parting. “I don’t know how to say good-bye,” I said. “I can’t think of any words.”

  Marco smiled at me for a long minute. Then he said softly, “Don’t try.” He leaned forward and kissed me once more, a lingering kiss on the lips, and then, without another word, he turned to go. I watched him until he turned left at the end of the street, finally disappearing around a building.

  He didn’t look back once.

  The next morning at six, I was getting ready to leave when there was a knock on my door. Surprised, I opened it to find Karina there, fully dressed and ready to go.

  “What are you doing up so early?” I asked.

  “You didn’t think I was going to let you go to the airport alone, did you?”

  “But I’ll be fine!” I said. “I can say good-bye to you here. It’s a long cab ride.”

  Karina shrugged. “It is early. I will be back in time for work. And I would like to say a proper good-bye.” She paused. “Besides, if I remember correctly, your suitcase is a mess. You’ll need help carrying it.”

  I laughed. “Okay. Thank you.”

  She helped me drag my bags down the stairs. We left them in the entryway to the building while I went upstairs to say good-bye to Nico.

  Karina’s mother was sitting in the living room, reading a book and sipping an espresso. She got up when I came in and crossed the room to hug me tightly. She said something to me in rapid Italian, and Karina smiled.

  “She said that you are like a daughter to her,” Karina translated, “and that she hopes you will return to us soon.”

  “I will,” I promised. I searched my mind for the proper Italian phrasing, and as I said the word, I hoped it had come out right. “Ritornarò,” I said to Karina’s mother. “I will return.”

  Karina laughed. “You are fluent already!” she teased.

  Nico was still asleep, so I went in to wake him up. I s
at on the edge of his bed and whispered his name. He opened his big brown eyes and blinked at me a few times. He smiled, and then I could see the realization dawning on his face. He had forgotten for a moment that I was leaving.

  “I’m on my way to the airport,” I said softly.

  He looked at me for a long moment and sat up. “I don’t want to say good-bye.”

  “Then don’t,” I said. “Let’s say instead, ‘I’ll see you soon.’ ”

  He studied my face, as if trying to decide whether I meant it or not. Finally, he smiled a little. “Okay,” he agreed. “I will see you soon, Zia Cat.”

  I blinked back tears. It was the first time he had used the endearment, which means “aunt.”

  “I will be back, il mio nipote,” I said, returning the endearment by calling him my nephew. “I promise.”

  He thought about it for a moment. “I know,” he said finally. “And maybe Mamma and I will come visit you in New York.”

  I reached out and hugged him for a long moment. “I hope so,” I said into his thick dark hair.

  “We will not say good-bye,” Karina said as we got into a cab and set off toward the airport. “Because it’s not really good-bye. I am your agent, right? We will need to talk often about your photographs.”

  I laughed. “Of course,” I said, “although perhaps I’m crazy to think anyone will possibly want to buy my photographs.”

  Karina shook her head. “No,” she said. “You are crazy to think that they won’t sell. You have to believe in yourself once in a while, Cat.”

  We rode in silence for a few minutes. “Karina?” I asked hesitantly as we pulled out of the picturesque area of the city and into the more nondescript areas of the suburbs as we headed for the airport. “Nico told me that his father lives in New York.”

  Karina sucked in a deep breath but didn’t say anything.

  “Is that true?” I asked after a moment.

  She hesitated and nodded. She looked out the window, effectively turning her back to me.

  “I didn’t realize you were in touch with him,” I said.

  The silence stretched on for so long that I was sure she wasn’t going to answer. And then, suddenly, she blurted out, “I wasn’t, for a long time. And I don’t want to be.” She still wasn’t looking at me. She was gazing out the window, and her voice sounded muffled. “He left me, Cat. He left us. He chose another woman over me, and he left us in Rome while he went off to start a whole new life in America.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly.

  She shook her head vigorously. “No. It is nothing to be sorry about. It happened. It is done.” She paused. “But he is Nico’s father. And Nico deserves to know his father. I found him in New York last year, and I’ve been sending him pictures of Nico.” She paused and added. “One day, they should meet. But I am not ready yet.”

  “I understand,” I said softly.

  “I should have asked him to stay,” she said after a moment. “If I had begged him, when I was pregnant with Nico, he would have stayed, I think. But I was too proud.”

  I thought about it for a moment. “Karina, you shouldn’t have to beg someone to stay with you,” I said.

  “But Nico would have had a father,” she said. She finally turned away from the window to face me. I could see the pain and regret in her eyes.

  “No,” I said. “Nico would have had a sad, angry household to grow up in. His parents would have resented each other, and he would have felt it.” I thought of my own childhood, of all the horrific fights between my parents, and of the relative calm after my mother left, the way that instead of the constant waves of anger from my parents, there was suddenly only fierce, powerful love from my father, who would have given us the world had he been able to. “Instead,” I said softly, and I wasn’t sure whether I was referring to myself or to Nico anymore, “instead, he’s had a relatively happy childhood with a parent who would do anything for him.”

  Karina looked at me for a long time and nodded.

  “When you’re ready,” I said, “come to New York. Stay with me. And I’ll go with you to see your ex-husband, if you want to.”

  I expected her to protest. But instead, she just looked down and murmured, “Thank you.” After a moment, she added, “You’re going to make a wonderful mother someday, if that is what you choose.”

  “Thank you,” I said simply. I didn’t know if that was what my future held or not. But I was no longer scared that I’d be like my mother. I knew I already was like her in some of the good ways. And the bad things, well, I’d learn from her mistakes. And it would make me better, stronger, more prepared for the job of motherhood.

  We rode in silence for a while, each of us lost in our own thoughts. As we began seeing signs for the airport, I said softly, “I told Marco I couldn’t see him anymore.”

  Karina looked at me in surprise. “You did?”

  I nodded. “It was the right thing to do.”

  She nodded slowly. “So it’s Michael, then? You’ll call Michael when you get back to New York?”

  I hesitated and shook my head. “No,” I said. “I think I’ll just spend some time alone for a while.”

  I didn’t know how she’d react. I knew Karina liked Michael and probably wanted me to give him a chance. And I didn’t know how to explain to her right now that it wasn’t about the guy. It was about me. I needed to just be with me for a while.

  But Karina looked at me for a long time and smiled. “Good for you, Cat,” she said.

  I knew she understood.

  “Are you going to tell your sister about your mother?” Karina asked after a moment.

  “Someday,” I said. I paused and tried to explain. “My mother didn’t want us to know unless we came looking. And my sister never felt the same way about my mother that I did. She forgave her. She was happy to have her home. I think I’m the one who struggled with it.”

  “And your dad?” she asked.

  “I think he knew, on some level, anyhow,” I said. “But if he ever asks me, I’ll tell him about seeing Gina.”

  We hugged good-bye for a long time outside the taxi, until the driver honked his horn and gestured for Karina to hurry up and get back in.

  She rolled her eyes and grinned. “Roma,” she said. “What can you do?”

  I laughed. “I still love it here,” I said. “Rude cabdrivers and all.”

  Karina hugged me again, quickly this time, and when she pulled back there were tears in her eyes. “I’m glad to know you, Cat Connelly,” she said.

  “Me, too,” I said.

  She quickly wiped her tears away and climbed back into the cab. The cabdriver peeled away from the curb quickly. Karina pressed a palm against the window in a silent wave. I waved back and watched her until the cab disappeared.

  A few hours later, as my plane lifted off and Rome rose up below us, a dusty collection of pale domes, patchwork green parks, glittering crosses, and maroon rooftops, I felt a strange sort of melancholy. I knew I was going home. But I also knew there was a part of me that would forever be at home in the city below me, the city that gradually slipped away beneath the clouds until I could no longer make out any trace of its magic.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Three months later, almost to the day, I was standing in the baggage claim area of JFK Airport, waiting for Karina and Nico to come through customs. I hadn’t been back to Rome since I left, although I was planning another trip there the following month. So I’d been beyond thrilled when Karina called and said she was thinking of bringing Nico over to meet his father for the first time.

  There was another reason for her trip, too. My photos had been selling well at the Gillian Zucker Gallery, and Karina had started selling my work to magazines, too, so I’d decided to quit my accounting job at Puffer & Hamlin three weeks ago. It had been a huge leap on my part—not just because of the inherent financial insecurity, but because I’d never been a person who lived without a safety net—but so far, it was working out. I’d be
making less than I had as an accountant, and I’d have to pay for my own health insurance, but I’d have more time to travel. And of course I’d still have my accounting degree and all my connections in that world as a fallback if photography didn’t work out long-term. But it was time I took a leap of faith in my life.

  Gillian, whom I still hadn’t met face-to-face, had asked Karina if “Audrey H. Verdicchio” could take another series of Rome pictures and perhaps work on a series of shots of the AmalfiCoast, too. I had agreed and was looking forward to the assignment. Karina had also just sold a series of New York black and whites to a small gallery in Rome, and the photos I’d just taken in early September, of the swan song of summer in Central Park, were already selling well.

  Of course, it was Karina’s 10 percent commission from all the photos that was helping to finance her trip. Plus, while she was here, she had meetings arranged with three other galleries in New York and with two galleries in Boston, to show them my work. Nico was thrilled that he’d get to see not one but two big American cities. He had already called me two times to ask me if I’d be coming with them to see the ducks in Boston’s Public Garden. I’d promised that I would, and I was planning to borrow my father’s car to drive the three of us up there in a few days.

  Karina didn’t know it yet, but I was planning to reimburse her for her flights over here. After all, she was going to be doing business on my behalf while in the States. She shouldn’t have to pay her own way, although I suspected she would have come regardless. As she had said to me on the phone when I asked her if she was sure she was ready to see her ex, Massimo, again, “It is time.”

  I saw Nico come through the customs door first. He spotted me right away and broke away from Karina to run across the room. He threw himself into my arms and hugged me tight around the waist. “Zia Cat! Zia Cat!” he said excitedly. Then he launched into an excited stream of Italian, his eyes wide and his words flowing rapidly.

  I laughed as he finally let me go and stepped back, waiting for a response. “Nico, I don’t speak Italian, remember?”