Page 51 of Lying Hearts
Chapter Thirty-Two
Annie
Stomach: Making noises no one should ever have to hear.
“Mi scusi. Cibo? Umm…negozio…ummm…” Standing in the sunlight with the pale cement sidewalk throwing a glare into my eyes, I frantically thumb through the English/Italian translation book
The old Italian man sitting with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of red in the other, leans forward as though to hear me better. It’s not my volume that’s the problem. He’s got his ear cocked in my direction. Feeling terribly helpless and dumb, so I thumb faster. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to find it.”
I hear footsteps and a voice come up behind me. “What are you looking for?”
Slouched over the book, I look over. My eyes almost fall out of my head. A man with black hair, almond-shaped eyes, and olive, sun-kissed skin, is smiling at me. He looks maybe forty. I’m only twenty-three, but he’s so handsome, all I can think is, wow.
Standing straighter, I manage a smile back and self-consciously smooth down my black, clipped rat’s nest. “I’m looking for the grocery store. Or whatever you call it, I’m not sure. I need food.”
He says something in Italian to the older guy, and his voice is really easy on the ears. They seem to know each other. I can’t be sure, though, but they appear to be familiar. If I knew what they were saying, maybe I’d know. People in Tuscany prefer if you speak Italian and I speak none. In Verona, they were nicer, but in Verona I was still thinking of Brendan and Corinne. So I ran. Again.
Their exchange complete, the handsome stranger offers, “I can show you.”
I look down at the cement and catch site of my black tights tucked into dirty sneakers. I feel so dingy and dark compared to this man. He’s everything you’d expect of casual elegance. He’s got two buttons open on his white cotton shirt and I sneak a glance at his chest. Just one little glance can’t hurt.
“Um… that’s very nice of you. Grazie.”
He motions with his hand, this way. Together, we walk in silence for awhile. I’m really not good at talking to new people. Adjusting the strap of my purse out of habit, I hold the translation book to my chest like a shield. But I came here to change, so I force myself to speak first. It feels like someone is pressing razors into my eyeballs, it’s so hard. I cough, straining to overcome the dryness in my throat. “Um…Do you live here?”
He nods. “Did you just arrive?”
“How did you know?” I stare at the sun’s halo-like light around the edges of his hair.
“You don’t know where are the stores,” he points out with a jog of his index finger. “I’m not… erm…come si dice?”
I know that come si dice means how do you say it, so I smile. “Psychic?”
He nods and repeats as though to memorize the word, “Psychic. Si. Psychic. Psychic.”
I love his voice. I also love his Roman nose. I find it very appealing that there’s nothing feminine about it. What I want to do is tell him he’s gorgeous, but that would be really bold. If Corinne were here, she’d tell him. She’d probably fuck him right here in the street, too. In broad daylight. With that old lady in an apron and slippers watching. It’s lame, but the second I imagine it, I realize the fact of the matter is, I’d LOVE to do something wild like that, so I guess I’m a hypocrite. That’s why I liked her so much; she did things I wanted to do but never could. Like fucking Brendan for example. There I go thinking about it again.
Struggling to change my thoughts to the present, I say, “Your English is very good.”
“I studied since childhood.” He glances to me and chuckles. “…a long time ago.”
Did he say that because he thinks I’m a kid? I’m a woman. I want him to know that.
“I’m Annie.”
He bows. Actually bows! “Christiano.”
As he rises, I blurt out, “I’m not as young as I look.”
His eyebrows go up, eyes dancing. “No?”
“No.” Then I roll my eyes. “I am however, just as dorky as I look. I’m working on it.”
The amusement leaves him. “I know this word. It does not apply to you.” He holds my eyes until he’s sure I heard him. Reluctantly, I nod. This seems to satisfy him. “Come. This way.”
Thrown by his everything, it takes me a second to follow him. With him a few steps ahead of me, I check out his body and like what I see very, very much. He looks over his shoulder. My eyes fly up too late. He saw me looking for sure. I stare off to the left at nothing in particular, but it’s obvious I’m trying to cover.
“There is the store.”