eyes for a minute, maybe the world would stop spinning.
LUCY AWOKE like a kitten waking from a nap in the sun. She yawned and stretched as sunlight played in colored shapes on the windows and dashboard. She had a slight headache, but mostly felt completely at ease and at peace with herself as she looked around for what caused the sunlight to dance, but she couldn’t find it. Perhaps the rental had come with a crystal, she thought. How fabulous.
She hadn’t slept as well or as soundly in a very long time and she relished the moment. Only, something was wrong. She was sitting in the passenger side of the car and not the driver’s side. How odd. And, she could smell coffee. How could that be? And onions. She could actually smell onions frying.
“What time is it?” she said, and moved out of her almost fetal position to look at her watch.
As she moved, her eyes shut with a deep yawn, her arms encircled the man sleeping next to her, warm and responsive. Maybe she wasn’t awake, after all, she mused. She felt him pull her in closer. She liked the way he made her feel when her body touched his. Liked the smell of him, the warmth. She especially liked the way his arms felt around her. “Lucia,” he said in a low voice as his lips lingered next to hers for a moment before sending a sensual shiver through her entire body. His breath warm on her throat…
“It’s you,” she yelled, eyes now wide open.
With all the strength in her legs and arms, she pushed Vittorio right out of the open car door and onto the street. He landed next to a fruit stand and tomatoes cascaded onto his head. Lucy jumped out of the car.
Total panic swept over her, causing her head to throb and her stomach to ache as she stood next to the car and realized she had no idea where she was.
“You are the lowest of the low. Pond scum, that’s what you are. Pond scum,” Lucy said as she struggled to get her things out of the car. The street was crowded with people, so Lucy tried to keep her voice down.
“Lucia, what is wrong? I did nothing,” Vittorio said as he gingerly stood, avoiding the tomatoes.
They stared at each other from either side of the sports car. The hood glistened in the sunshine, giving everything a sort of red glow. Lucy said, “You were about to kiss me.”
“Yes.”
“What else happened while I was sleeping? Wait…I don’t want to know. Yes. I do. No. I don’t.” Total panic sent her spinning out of control.
“Lucia, nothing happened. You have my word.”
“Your word! Is that supposed to mean something? Do we have some sort of history I can pin that statement on to?”
“Lucia, of course you know me. We just slept together,” he said, grinning.
“We did not sleep together. That was a rest, a nap, nothing more.”
“But Lucia, you are so beautiful when you are in my arms.”
“You are the most despicable, contemptible…there are no words to describe you. You’re beyond words. You’re a thing. A slimy, green thing.”
“Please. Be calm. What could I do? Your jacket was wet, and stained.”
Her jacket? What jacket? Lucy suddenly realized she wasn’t wearing her white jacket. Things were digressing rapidly. Somehow in her fog, she remembered vomiting on some woman’s shoes. Embarrassment washed over her like a mud bath, thick and warm, but she was determined not to let the pond scum know. Not now. Not in the middle of an argument.
“Okay, so what! You took advantage of me and I can’t even remember all that we did, or if we did. Did we?”
He made a gesture indicating that she was being ridiculous. “Lucia, please,” then he reached into the car, pulled out her jacket and scarf and handed them to her across the roof.
She ripped them out of his hands. The jacket stunk, and was covered in red wine stains. “You’re so typical.”
“Lucia, do not be like this. Everything is fine.”
Lucy seriously doubted that. What she needed was a restroom so she could clean herself up and leave. “I need a ladies’ room,” she said.
“Scusi?” He didn’t understand her.
“A toilet. I need a public toilet,” she explained.
“But my mamma’s villa is not far. I have a nice room. We go there. You will be more comfortable.”
Lucy had read somewhere that many Italian young men liked to live at home with their mothers, who doted on them as if they were still little boys, rather than moving out on their own. The Italians called them mammisimos, mamma’s boys. She wondered if Vittorio was a mammisimo.
Probably, she thought. He has that mamma’s-boy look.
Lucy spotted a public toilet sign down the street. “Can I please have my luggage out of the trunk? I need to get to Subito, like, now.” She glanced at her watch. It was already one o’clock. “Damn, I’m late.” He unloaded her luggage.
“Scusi, you gotta get to Subito?” Vittorio asked, slowly, as if he didn’t believe what she had just said.
He was really an aggravating man. Did he know something about Subito?
Well, even if he did, she didn’t care.
“Yes, and I’m going to be late for my own meeting.”
“Subito. Your business is Subito?” Vittorio laughed.
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