Chapter 19

I know, I know... I am a lousy blogger. It's true. But I've been spending every free second pounding on my keyboard trying to finally FINISH a whole book.

So, since I have been seriously neglecting my blog, here is something to tide you over. The following is a brief installment from my book "When All Else Fails".

Oh... and if you speak Italian would you be so kind as to correct my pathetic usage? Seriously... I won't be offended.

When All Else Fails

Chapter 19

“Ciao, Luca?”

“Si.” His voice sounds gruff with sleep.

“It's Claire.” I take a deep breath, then my words come tumbling out. “I kind of need to ask you a favor. I'm lost and not quite sure where I am or how to get home. And I was wondering if you could come pick me up? I'm so sorry to bother you and, if it's too late at night, I totally understand. It's just that I didn't know who else to call, and I lost my phone, but I happened to have your number in my purse. And well...” Yeah, I am just plain rambling now. “Well, I thought maybe you would be willing to help?”

“Piano, piano.” (Slowly, slowly) “I do not understand half of what you say to me. You are not hurt?”

“No, no. I'm fine. Just... lost.”

“Okay. Tell me where you are and I will get you. No problem, okay?”

“I'm at Giada's on Venti Quatro Maggio. Do you know where that is?”

“No, but I will find you. Do not go anywhere. I will be there in less than one hour.”

“I promise, I won't even step outside. And Luca? ...Thank you.” I breath a sigh of relief as I hang up the receiver.

The man behind the counter takes his phone back, and I nod my thanks. “Grazie mille.”

“Your man, he comes for you now?”

“Si. But he isn't really mine.”

“He is not your man but he comes at 3 AM to find you? Maybe you should have him to be your man, no?” He leans over the counter and pats my cheek. His face is weathered and rough but the dark eyes that are half hidden beneath his bushy eyebrows are warm.

Sigh. “I don't really deserve a man like Luca.”

“No? And why for not?”

“I'm a coward and he's too good for me.” I plant my elbows on the counter and sink my chin onto my fists. “I think I broke his heart.”

“You like the pizza, no?”

Random, but okay. “Si, I like pizza very much.”

“Good. Then I will make you the pizza, and you will tell me about why you are no good for this boy and how you think you break his heart.” He plops a lump of dough on the counter. “If there is one thing I know, Italian men they know a thing or two about love. If you really have break his heart, he will not have been coming to get you.” His thick fists work the dough back and forth on the counter and, for a moment, I am mesmerized by his movements.

“There are glasses next to the sink and vino in the rack. Help yourself, per favore. The vino, it will be good for you.”

“Grazie.” I walk behind the counter and make myself at home. “Would you like a glass?”

“No. I am fine.”

“Okay.” I search the bottles. Not knowing much about Italian wines, I pull out the prettiest one and pour some into my glass. After replacing the cork, I return to my place at the counter and perch back on my stool.

“Va bene. Alorre, now, you tell Sebastiano everything.”

A take a sip of the wine. Bluck! Swallowing, I try not to choke. It is the most terrible, awful wine I've ever tasted in my life. Disgusting.

Sabastian turns away to look for something and I take the chance to completely down the glass. Better to just get it over with. I don't want him to see how gross I think it is, and I don't want to offend him by not drinking it at all. The liquid burns all the way down, and I think I'm going to be sick. He finds whatever he was looking for and turns back towards me. I smile, tears rolling down my cheeks from the burn of the nasty liquid.

“Bella, you cry.” He uses the back of a floured hand to wipe the tears from my face. He grabs a different bottle and refills my glass. “No more cry. Now you tell me what is so for bad.”

For the next forty-five minutes, I proceed to tell Sebastiano everything that has happened in the last year. As I talk, he hands me a tomato to cut, then a basil plant to pluck leaves from, a bowl of marinara to hold, fresh mozzarella to slice.

“So that's how I ended up here.” I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my temples. “I don't love Gino, but I've made such a mess of things with Luca.” Sigh. “I don't know what to do.”

I hear the oven door open, the scraping of the wooden paddle as it slides under the pizza. I can smell the melted cheese, feel the heat of the fire.

“Is okay, mi amica. All things work together for good.” Cornmeal scrapes across wood as he maneuvers the pizza onto the counter.

I wipe away a tear and open my eyes. “Wow.”

Somehow, through the course of my story, he has birthed, from one lump of dough, the most beautiful pizza I have ever seen. It's in the shape of a heart; cheese, basil, and tomato all melting into ooey-gooey goodness.

“You believe in God, yes?”

I nod and swipe at another tear as Sabastiano refills my glass for the third or fourth time.

“Then believe that He will take care of you.” He leans across the counter, bottle still in his hand, and kisses the top of my head. “You are a good girl. Now eat your pizza. Your man, he will be here soon.”

Not five minutes later Luca comes barreling through the front door.

My normally sweet and polished friend, looks like he's been through a hurricane. His hair is sticking every which way and his eyes are bloodshot. He's wearing a regular old t-shirt, something I have never seen him in before, and his rumpled jeans fall haphazzard over a pair of flip-flops. If I didn't know better, I'd think he just came off a week-long bender.

“Claire? Are you okay?” He rushes over kisses both of my cheeks.

“Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Why are you out so late? Alone? I have been so worried for you. All the time here I think there is something wrong that you did not tell me. That something bad has happened to you.” He voice is gruff and about as close to yelling as he has ever come with me. “Che cosa! You are eating pizza?” He looks at me like I've turned green and grew a third eye. “I thought you were lost? Not out for a midnight snack!”

It's obvious Luca is upset but he didn't sound like that on the phone so I'm not sure what has happened since then. All I know is that I just should have figured out how to get home by myself.

“I-I'm sorry. Sebastiano made it for me while we were waiting for you. But nothing bad happened.” I feel so awkward right now. Tears are filling my eyes again, and I'm sick to my stomach.

At the mention of his name, Sebastiano steps forward and Luca seems to notice him for the first time. He stretches out his hand, “Grazie per aver cura di Claire.”

I think Luca just thanked him for taking care of me, but I'm not sure. Sebastiano doesn't seem very interested in his appreciation. The two start speaking in rapid fire Italian and I can't keep up so I just sit and watch their interaction.

Sebastiano looks like a protective papa bear. Both of his meaty hands are balled into fists and jammed into his hips. Well at least until he is the one doing the speaking. Then his hands launch into the air to punctuate every sentence.

It never ceases to amaze me that Italians can have such heated conversations with people they've just met. I mean, really? It's 4 AM people!

Sebastian is half as tall and twice as dark as Luca. He has all of the classic features of a Sicilian; short, stocky, dark, clipped accent. He reaches up and pokes Luca in the chest.

“Si comportano come lei è una principessa.” You need to treat her like a princess? I giggle. Luca is the only man in my life who ever has treated me like a princess. Well other than today.

I'm not sure why but I keep giggling. It's almost as if I'm drunk on lack of sleep. And I'm dizzy, so very dizzy. I slide off my bar stool and plop onto the floor, holding my head in an effort to make the room stop spinning.

The floor feels nice, cool, so far away from the noise. In fact I can't hear the boys at all anymore. I give myself a congratulatory smile at discovering such a clever seating arrangement.

Oh boy, my head is really spinning now. I'm beginning to empathize with Dorothy in the sea of poppies. I'm so tired.

“Poppies, poppies, poppies will put them to sleep.” Did I just say that out loud? Maybe if I could just rest for a minute I would feel better. Sinking my head down onto the tile floor, I close my eyes.

“Claire?” I hear my name calling through a tunnel. A very loud tunnel. “Claire? Svegliati per favore...” Too much Italian. Make it stop. “Svegliati piccolina.”

“Basta.” I try to shout it. Enough! But I think it comes out more like a creepy whisper. “Stop!” I open my eyes. Both Luca and Sebastian are hovering over me. Luca sitting beside me and Sebastian standing behind him.

“Are you okay?” Luca places his warm palm on my forehead.

“Yeah.” I roll onto my side, knocking his hand off in the process, and curl into a ball. “I'm just sleepy.” I feel something start as a gurgle in my belly, rumble through my chest, and erupt into a huge belch. I giggle again.

Luca clears his throat. “Si. I will take you home now.” He stands up, pulling me along with him. “Come.”

Sigh. I wrap my arms around his waist and slump my head onto his shoulder. “I like you. You smell nice.”

“Grazie.”

“Like a man.”

He grunts. “You smell terrible.”

“Grazie.”

“Like you've been distilled. What were you drinking?”

“Just something from a pretty bottle on the counter.”

Suddenly I'm floating in the air, his arm locked under my knees. I snuggle my face into his t-shirt. He really does smell nice.

“Is this what you drank?” He shakes me a little and I peek open one eye to look in the direction he is pointing me.

“Yep. It was dee-sgusting!” My whole body revolts just thinking about having put that inside of me.

“How much?”

“The whole stinking, lousy glass.” The room is spinning so I bury my face back into his shirt . “All at...” My words feel funny in my mouth. “All at onsh. Nashty wine.” Hiccup.

“Not vino. Grappa. How much did you have in your glass?”

My world is closing in and I can barely hear him anymore, but he jiggles me until I answer. “I filled it. And then,” I hiccup again. “I drank some yummy stuff that Shhha-shhhe... that he gave me.” I try to point towards Sabastiano, but my hand catches Luca smack in the face.

“Mi dispiace piccolina, you are going to feel terrible in the morning.”