Page 27 of I Think Olive You
“They’re worried because too much of the ground has eroded here, exposing the root system and making it vulnerable to animals. We’ll get some additional soil to add here. After we’ve got the pH balance right, it’ll be added to this spot.”
It carries on for hours and I breathe it in, soaking up every minute with her—watching. The workers treat her with respect, deferring to her expertise. Giuliana’s not afraid to get her hands dirty and by the end of the day she’s sweaty and tired. We both are.
She cares. It hits me square in the chest. Yes, she’s sassy and smart like the woman I nearly hit with the Vespa but she’s also so much more. She’s kind and firm—serious. But when she smiles and laughs, it bubbles up from somewhere deep within so you know it’s real.
Giuliana is genuine. In a world where everyone I’ve ever known is so focused on appearances and getting ahead at whatever cost necessary—Giuliana is without guile. She treats me as an equal even though I don’t have a smidge of knowledge on any of this.
I want to be who she sees—someone worthy of sharing things with, knowledge, experiences. Giuliana makes me want… more.
It’s mill day. I never thought I’d be excited about a fucking excursion but here we are. Over the last few days, we’ve worked the ground and finished testing the soil. I’ve tasted how revolting an unripe olive is and started to enjoy this whole thing. Today is when I get to tour the mill they use to produce the olive oil and I feel like a kid going on a field trip. My shower is brief, clothing tugged on and breakfast scarfed down. Giuliana has been out since sunrise, preparing the workers for her absence, and I decide to take a walk around the grounds while I wait for her.
From my vantage point near the top of one of the hills a plume of dust rises from the road, a car heading this way. The sign still hasn’t been put up, so if anyone is looking for Abundantia they’re going to have a hell of a time without GPS.
Weaving between trees toward the main road, I stumble my way downslope as fast as I can. By the time I make it down the car is almost upon me. Stepping out into the road, I flag it down with a wave of my arms. The car skids to a stop beside me—gravel and dust kicked up by the wheels clinging to my skin and irritating my throat. The window gives a soft whirr as it disappears down into the door and a friendly face smiles up at me.
“Hi, you don’t happen to speak English, do you?” he asks in an American accent, my relieved sigh leaving my body in a huff. Shit. What if he’d been Italian? I keep taking people understanding me for granted.
“Yeah, I do. How can I help you?”
This is fortuitous for him considering my own arrival and how subsequent weeks have been comprised of a lot of broken Italian and English, and hand gestures. It never occurred to me I might miss hearing a familiar accent so soon.
“I’m looking for Abundantia.”
I lean my hand against the top of the car, looking down into the window to try and get a read on him. He’s around my age, perhaps a little younger, blonde with freckles dotting his tanned skin. Something about him screams West Coast.
“Well, you’ve found it. I’m heading back to the house myself, mind if I catch a ride with you?”
A smile spreads across his face and he leans over, opening the passenger door for me to hop in. Once I’m seated, he reaches out a hand for me to shake, and I take inordinate pride in knowing mine feels work-roughened where it meets his smooth palm.
“I’m Cameron.”
“Matteo, nice to meet you.”
The car rumbles down the drive, swirling dust trailing us and I can’t help but wonder if rain will settle it soon or if the whole summer will be this dry. Rainfall never concerned me before but all Giuliana’s talk of the soil and growing conditions is at the forefront of my mind.
“How long have you been on this side of the world?” Cameron asks.
“A few weeks. I’ll be here through the summer.”
“No shit. Same here.”
Huh. I mean if he’s college-aged he might be backpacking for the summer break. But something sits uncomfortably at the base of my stomach. “What do you think of it? Italy, I mean.”
Cameron’s mouth tilts into a lopsided smile and he looks me over, as if to decide whether or not to share.
“Italian girls…” He shakes his head. “Man, it’s been wild. I would have come sooner but I couldn’t turn down the opportunity.” Smirking now, his implication leaves little to the imagination and I give a breathless chuckle as we pull up to the house.
Cameron wastes no time getting out of the car and unease bubbles up inside me. Why exactly is he here?
“Are they expecting you?” I follow behind him as he forges into the house without a second thought. Perhaps he’s been here before?
“Yeah, I’m working here this summer, though I suppose I’m a little late. But Umberto assured me it’s not a big deal I was… delayed.”
Umberto, huh?
Heat rises in my stomach. Anger, I realize. This man deterred plans he’d agreed to—plans Giuliana needed him for—just for a fuck and it bothers me. It’s hypocritical of me to care since my trip started in much the same way. Seeing it reflected in him and hearing it from someone else’s lips—it pisses me off.
“I’ll let them know you’re here,” I grit out, trying to keep my composure.