The Last Promise (26 page)

He walked to a nearby café, where he watched soccer and drank cappuccinos and grappas with the old men until closing time. Only then, when the prospect of sleeping in the street seemed a reality, did he ask for suggestions on a good place to spend the night. The old men at the café told Ross of a small hotel and bar that was inexpensive and known for good food. Ross paid his bill then went off to find the hotel.

Hotel Fedora was only a few blocks from the train station, in the direction of Pisa’s famed leaning tower. Ross walked into the hotel and laid his pack on the tile floor near the front door. It was quiet inside, dim and dingy. The room was lit by electric wall sconces, and the paint on the wall behind them was peeling in places. A thirty-something woman sat at a check-in counter watching television. She glanced up at his entrance. The woman was voluptuous; dressed in all-black, formfitting clothing. Her blouse was tight with a plunging neckline. Her raven black hair was thick and curled, as untamed as a bramble. She had a naturally blushed look to her face, which made her cheeks glow as if she were inebriated. She had large eyes, dark and pretty and kind. She reminded Ross of a young Susan Sarandon translated into Italian.

“Hello, sir,” she said with a thick accent.

“Hello.”

“Would you need a room?”

“Yes, please.”

“For how, uh”—she paused to think—“very days?”

“I’m not certain. Two, three days. Maybe longer.”

“Three days?”

“Yes. Do you have a room available for that long?”

“Yes, I have. It is fifty thousands lire for day. That is . . . one hundreds and fifty thousands lire.”

Ross pulled two one-hundred-thousand-lire bills from his wallet. He set the money on the counter. She took the bills then counted back his change in English, setting the bills on the counter.

“Twenty, forty, sixty.”

“You gave me too much.”

Her brow furrowed. She didn’t understand.

“You gave me too much money back.”

“It is not too much money. It is reasonable rate.”

“You gave me too much change,” Ross said in Italian. “You only owed me fifty thousand.”

“
Mamma mia,
you speak Italian,” she said in relief, raising a hand to her breast. “Why didn’t you speak Italian to begin with?”

“You were doing fine in English,” he said.

“No, my English is awful.” She looked at her register. “I did give you too much.” She took back the bills then handed Ross a fifty-thousand-lire note. She reached behind her for a key. “Thank you for being honest. The owner is such a miser he probably would have fired me.”

“It’s nothing.”

She handed him a key. “Our best room is on the second floor. It is bigger than the others and quieter. It’s being used tonight, but if you come down after checkout time I will give it to you for the rest of the week at no extra charge.”

“Tonight you have room three, zero, seven. I am Valentina if you need
anything
,” she said, flirtatiously twisting the last word.

“
Grazie,
Valentina.”

“
Grazie
to you. See you later.”

Ross went to his room. He tried the television but found that it didn’t work. So instead he wrote in his journal then lay in bed. All he could think about was Eliana.

 

The days passed slowly for Ross, but he extended his stay for the full week. He slept in later each day, stayed up each night, his mind too filled with thoughts to sleep. When he did leave the hotel, he went to great efforts to avoid the crowds that flocked to Pisa. He traveled only by foot, walking more than ten miles a day. In his wanderings he took in a few sites, the smaller attractions that the tour buses pass over, the Tower of Hunger and the Church of St. Stefano dei Cavalieri, with its beautiful inlaid ceilings representing the deeds of the knights. He didn’t shave; he ate only one meal a day and that was taken at the hotel’s restaurant.

The one person he did talk to was Valentina, who was not only the hotel’s counter help but cook and bar-maid as well. She mostly just flirted with him. And though he felt some obligation to flirt back, his heart wasn’t in it. His heart ached. Still, the longer he was away from Rendola, the farther away it seemed to him. The more he doubted that Eliana would let him back.

It was thirty minutes past midnight, Friday. Ross was on the lobby’s couch watching a retelevised soccer game when Valentina called to him from the bar. “I’m closing up, Ross. Would you like a cappuccino?”

“No,
grazie
.”

She finished wiping down the coffee machine, threw the cloth into the sink and took off her apron. A few moments later she came around the bar. She sat down on the arm of the couch a few feet from Ross. She looked at the screen. “Who is winning?”

“Roma.”

“Sempre.” Always.
“They won this morning too.”

Ross grinned. “That’s the game I’m watching, it’s just retelevised. You just spoiled the ending.”

“Sorry,” she said without meaning it. She slid off the arm onto the couch itself. “Would you like something to eat? You are getting too skinny.”

“No, thank you.”

“You don’t eat enough.”

“I eat enough.”

“May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you lonely?”

“Yes.”

“Anch’io,”
she said wistfully.
Me too
. She watched the game for a while. Then she asked, “Would you like to come home with me tonight?”

Ross looked into her face. “Yes. But I better not.”

She frowned. “What are you doing here? In Pisa?”

“I came to think.”

“You came to the wrong place. No one thinks in Pisa. You are thinking about a girl?”

“How did you know?”

“What else do men think of?”

“Fair enough.”

“Maybe I can help you. Tell me about your problem.”

Ross considered her request. “I fell in love with a beautiful woman in Florence.”

“Ah yes, that’s good. But she doesn’t love you?”

“No, I think she does.”

“Better still. Then what’s the problem?”

“She’s married.”

Valentina’s face twisted. “That package comes with too much pain. Especially when there are so many other options.” She cocked her head just in case Ross missed that she was speaking of herself.

Ross smiled at her. “There’s something special about this one.”

“I suspect her husband thinks so too.”

“I’m not sure that he does.”

“What is he like?”

“Gone, mostly. He’s home less than a week out of the month.”

She nodded. “Recipe for disaster. One part neglect, two parts attraction. Is she unhappy?”

“I don’t understand married people. They neglect their partner’s most basic needs then wonder why they go somewhere else to have them met, blaming everyone but themselves. It is the stupidity of the ages.”

“True.”

“Can you give this woman what she needs?”

“I would cherish her.”

“Then she would be a fortunate woman. So what is holding you back? Besides her husband.”

“I don’t know. Fear of the unknown. I haven’t had the best luck with love.”

Just then the hotel’s front door opened and an older couple walked in. Valentina met them at the counter and registered them for a room. When she came back, Ross was immersed in the game. For a while she watched as well. Then she said, “The thing about soccer is that whenever someone takes a shot they don’t really know if it’s going to score or not. But they miss every shot they don’t take.”

Ross’s eyebrows rose.

“If you’re not going to try because you’re not sure of the outcome, then you might as well not even play.”

“That’s the wisest thing I’ve heard since I came to Italy.”

“Someday they are going to bury me next to Marcus Aurelius. There’s more to me than meets the eye.” She rested her chin on her hands. “And there’s a lot to meet the eye, isn’t there?”

He smiled. “So tell me, why is such a beautiful woman, who knows so much about love, alone tonight?”

“I’m one of those who learns the hard way. I have the scars to prove it.” She suddenly stood up. Sighed. “I’m going home now. Last call.”

He took her hand, kissed it. “Sorry.”

“Me too. We’d have fun.
Buona notte,
Ross.”

“Good night, Valentina. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” She stopped at the door. “Oh . . . and if the shot doesn’t go in, I’m sure that I’ll still be here.” She winked.
“Ciao.”

The door shut behind her, leaving him alone in the lobby.
It was pure Italian,
Ross thought:
beauty and truth where you least expect it.
He knew what he wanted. Each day away from her had confirmed it to his heart. His only question was, would her heart concur?

—Metastasio

 

 

 

 

 

“S
o what’s the matter with you?” Anna asked. Eliana was preparing dinner as Anna sat on a nearby stool watching her.

“Nothing’s the matter.”

“You walk around like a ghost. Where’s the American?”

“Why do you call him that? You know his name.”

“I like the sound of it,” she said. “Where is he? I haven’t seen him for a while.”

“He’s gone.”

“So you’re acting differently because he is gone.” Then she raised her finger. “No, actually you are not different, you are the way you used to be.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is. Where did he go?”

Eliana looked back at her. “I sent him away.”

Anna looked surprised. “For good?”

“No. Just until I figure things out.”

“And what have you figured out?”

Eliana sighed. “Only that I miss him. I miss him terribly.” She turned off the stove and came around the counter. “I’ve never met a man like him before. He hasn’t asked a thing of me, yet he gives me a whole new world. I feel love and hope again. Even Alessio is happier.” She sat down. She frowned. “You should have seen him when I asked him to go. It broke my heart.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I honestly don’t have any idea. I wish he would tell me what to do. I’d do it. I don’t think I could deny him anything.”

“Well, one of you better figure something out.” She went to the refrigerator for a drink. “Is Maurizio home?”

“Yes.”

Anna made a face. Eliana went back to her cooking. “As soon as I finish making dinner, I’m taking Alessio out shopping for school clothes.”

“
Mamma mia,
is it time for school again already?”

“
Sì.
Next week.”

“Have you forgotten I’m leaving this evening to see Andrea?”

“I’m sorry. I forgot. How long will you be gone this time?”

“I don’t know, a week or two. Until I get tired of him.” She smiled. “Why don’t I go shopping with you and afterwards you can drop me off at the train station? My train doesn’t leave until the nineteenth hour.”

Eliana smiled. “I’m so pleased that you have someone.”

Anna walked to the door. “I’ll finish packing. And I hope to say the same about you someday.”

—Italian Proverb

 

 

 

 

 

M
aurizio sat alone in his den, his legs crossed at his ankles, newspaper in his hands,
La Nazione
. The lights were off and the drapes were drawn, leaving the room lit by what light illuminated the silk curtains. The smoke of a cigarette rose from a glass ashtray within arm’s reach. Eliana walked in on him.