When In Rome...Find Yourself: A Sweet New Adult Romance (9 page)

Outside, a pair of impossibly tall and willowy Italian women stopped in front of the café, laughing and speaking in French. Even though they weren’t that pretty in a technical sense—one of them had big teeth and a horsey face, the other a slight overbite and close set eyes—they managed to look beautiful in the afternoon sunlight, as if they had not a care in the world except to stand around gossiping and talking with their hands.

Rory raised her camera just as Ned said, “The women here are almost as good as the pizza.”

Rory hit the shutter button and snapped a blurry, unfocused shot. At least he wouldn’t know that she’d done that. She forced herself not to look at him. She knew he was talking to Nick, anyway. Nick just laughed, and said, “Almost?”

And Ned said, “Okay, dude, you got me. And I take pizza very seriously.”

They were laughing as Rory focused her shot, careful to frame it just perfectly this time. What did she care if Ned thought the women were beautiful? They were. And she had nothing to compete with. They were so beyond her league that she might as well have been a five-year-old running for President of the United States. It didn’t even matter who she was running against, because she was never in the race.

Just like when she’d met Jack. During the first semester of her freshman year, she hadn’t really made any friends. But second semester, she’d had another class with Patty, this one a lab. When Rory had made her way to class, a bit late and out of breath, she’d spotted one person she knew, sitting at the far side of the room like a huge black crow reigning supreme at her high black table. Rory scuttled over and perched on the metal stool beside her.

“Oh hey,” Patty said. “You’re that chick from my history lecture, right?” To be fair, she and Rory had never spoken besides to hand off notes. Despite their arrangement the previous semester, Rory had gone to class even during Patty’s weeks, so after a few weeks, Patty had stopped coming to class altogether. Rory took notes and dropped them off at Patty’s dorm, sometimes just leaving them for the R.A. to put in her mailbox if Patty wasn’t there.

A few weeks later, on their way out of the science building, Patty invited Rory to see her friends’ band play at a bar. “You don’t have to be twenty-one to get in,” she said. “But I can probably track down an ID for you if you want to drink.”

“It’s okay,” Rory said, squinting against the cold January sun. “I don’t drink.”

“See you then,” Patty had said, turning to sweep off in her giant black cape and rattling silver bangles like a voodoo fortune teller. If only she could have seen the future, and never invited Rory out with her, she never would have met Jack.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in Milan before heading back. The rest of them got gelato, but Rory’s stomach was too twisted up in knots to eat. On the bus ride back, Cynthia sat with Kristina, so Maggie was sitting alone. Rory collapsed into the seat beside her. “Is it okay if I sit here?”

“Of course,” Maggie said, giving her a weird look. “But it’s fine if you want to sit with your friend. I like Nick.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Rory said. “Unless you wanted to sit with Nick…”

“No, no, stay,” Maggie said, putting her hand on Rory’s arm when she started to rise. “I see Nick all the time. But how come you’re not sitting with Ned?” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Did you have a fight?”

Though she obviously just wanted the gossip, Rory was glad to have an opening. It was the perfect chance for her to tell Maggie what had happened the night before and ask her advice. But like an idiot, she clammed up when someone put her on the spot. “Uh, I don’t know,” she managed. “I don’t really, you know, know very much about…guys and stuff.”

“Well, I’ve had the same boyfriend for seven years,” Maggie said. “So I only really know about one guy. But I could try to help.”

“You’ve been with the same guy for seven years?”

“Yep,” Maggie said with a big smile. “I’m hoping we’ll get engaged when I get home. I mean, he hasn’t said anything, but I kind of thought he’d ask before we left. I can just imagine him meeting me at the airport and getting down on one knee…”

“And saying that after six weeks without you, he couldn’t imagine spending one more day of his life without you,” Rory said.

“He can be so romantic when he tries,” Maggie said with a sigh. “I really miss him. I wish he had come to Rome with me. There are so many things to see here, once in a lifetime chances, you know? It would be so romantic to see them with him. It makes it so much harder than if I was just gone to see my family or something.”

Rory tried to imagine what it would be like to love someone that much. To be loved that much. Of course she felt alone at times, but loneliness had been a constant companion most of her life. She didn’t miss a particular person, other than her family, and that was a different sort of missing. That was wishing Quinn was there to see something, not an ache in her heart from absence that only one person could fill.

When she had thought about Jack since she’d been in Rome, she hadn’t exactly missed him. It was more a vindictive hope that he’d see her blog and wish he hadn’t dumped her. That he’d know she’d finally moved on from him, gotten out on her own to be independent, done something for herself. And she hoped he’d feel something when he saw that—respect, wistfulness, regret. But her rational side reminded her that Jack would never waste time online looking at her travel blog. If he used the internet, it was to search for bands or lyrics on obscure albums.

She and Maggie talked for the rest of the way home. Maggie told her all about Weston, her boyfriend, and Rory told her a little bit about Jack, but she was too unsure to tell her about Ned. He obvious didn’t like her, so there was no point in talking about it now.

If he’d liked her, he would have corrected her when she’d said they were just friends. And he definitely would not have pointed out other women when she was right there. Not just looking at them, but talking about them right in front of her. She’d been stupid to think that he’d meant anything the day before. Even if, in the moment, he’d wanted something, it was just what all guys wanted. Which was not nearly enough for her.

CHAPTER NinE

When they got back to Theresa’s that evening, Rory saw that she had four messages on her phone. She called her mother back, her heart pounding. What if something had happened to her or Rod? What if she’d called from the hospital because he’d had a heart attack? Rod wasn’t a small man, and both her parents were over fifty now. Or what if something had happened to Quinn?

No answer.

Rory wanted to scream. She hung up and immediately redialed. Why wasn’t Winnie answering the phone? And why had she called four times?

After trying to call back at least half a dozen times, she was freaking out so bad she had to go downstairs just to get away from the obsessive cycle of calling and hearing the outgoing message over and over. Theresa was in the kitchen stirring a pan of cream sauce. “How was Milan?” she asked.

“Fine,” Rory said, dropping into a chair. “But my mom called me a bunch of times and somehow I missed it, and now she’s not answering, and I know something happened. Something must have happened, or she wouldn’t have called four times.”

“I’m sure she’s just busy, dear,” Theresa said.

“And what’s even worse is that I wasn’t there for her,” Rory says. “I didn’t answer my phone. I even heard it ringing the first time, and I thought I’d just call her back. I didn’t want to get drawn into a long conversation when I was hanging out with my friends. I wasn’t even doing anything important.”

“She probably just called to say hello. She’ll answer when you call again. You’ll see.”

“But I didn’t answer,” Rory said. “I didn’t answer, and I probably made her worry as much as I’m worrying now. Probably more, because…” She didn’t want to say,
because she has something to worry about.
It wasn’t like Rory was a child. Even after Jack, she hadn’t cracked up nearly as bad as Quinn when she’d gotten dumped. She was a grown woman now, a legal adult. Her mother really had nothing to worry about.

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t. Especially now, when Rory was in a strange country and didn’t even speak the language. Her poor mother must have been worried sick, and if she had to worry about Rory on top of a real problem, like if something had happened to her dad…How could she have been so selfish?

“I’m a terrible person,” Rory moaned. “I’m the worst daughter ever.”

“That’s not true.” Theresa switched off the burner and came to sit opposite Rory. “I know how you feel. I worry all the time.” She cleared her throat and folded a dish towel on the table, creasing the edge of the fold twice before meeting Rory’s eye. “You see this yesterday. Thank you, for…for being so kind.”

“Oh,” Rory said. “I mean, of course. I wasn’t…It’s nothing.”

“Thank you,” Theresa said, patting her hand. “You’re a nice girl.”

Rory laughed uncomfortably. “I don’t think you can say that, especially after today.”

“Today you were busy, and so was your mother,” Theresa said, in a way that told Rory the conversation was over.

“Thanks,” Rory said dully.

“You know who needs a good girl.” Theresa gave Rory her trademark smile, her round cheeks rising so far they made her shining eyes squinty with glee. “That good boy upstairs,” she said, patting Rory’s hand.

“Oh, gosh,” Rory said, her laugh even more uncomfortable this time. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“You never know until you do,” Theresa said.

“Oh, I think I know.”

“You will only be here so long,” Theresa said. “Don’t waste it. That’s all I say.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll fix the plates,” Theresa said. “Go and tell that boy to come down, will you?”

Rory wanted to say no, but she couldn’t think of a polite way to do it. She couldn’t say it outright, or tell Theresa to go upstairs and get him herself. So she trudged up the stairs, trying to think of a good way to approach Ned, who had closed himself in his room like usual.

When she reached his door, she raised her fist to knock, then hesitated. Today, he had some kind of funk music playing. It sounded like something Jack’s band would have played. She tried to identify the song or band—she must have listened to a hundred bands Jack liked while they hung out—but they all sounded the same to her. She wiped her hands on her skirt, clenched and unclenched her fists while she took several deep breaths, and finally stepped away. She couldn’t disturb him when he was…doing whatever he always did in there by himself.

Maybe she could tell Theresa that Ned was sick. But no, he’d rat her out when Theresa went to check on him. She could always say that she felt sick, and had gone to her room to lay down, and that’s why she hadn’t gotten Ned. But that was a lame excuse, too. Even if she didn’t feel good, she could knock on a door instead of making an old woman walk all the way upstairs after cooking them a nice dinner.

She stepped back to the door, raised her hand, and then stopped again. She couldn’t do it. She rushed to her room and flung herself onto her bed. What was wrong with her? This was supposed to be her big chance to break free of her parents, to prove she could make it on her own, and she couldn’t even knock on her housemate’s door. How was she ever going to tell her parents she was moving out if she couldn’t even tell Ned that dinner was ready?

She jumped up from her bed and marched out of her room, turned to his door, and knocked. Upon hearing his footsteps within, her first instinct was to run back to her room and hide, pretend she wasn’t home. But she planted her feet, squeezed her fists and eyes shut, and waited.

“Uh…hey?” Ned said.

Her eyes flew open.

Oh, crap. She must have looked like a total spaz. “H-hey,” she said. “What’s up?”

He gave her a funny look. His eyes were even more glazed than the very first time she’d seen him, and his dreads were matted on one side like he’d slept on them wrong, and dotted with white paint.

“I don’t know,” he said. “What’s up? You knocked on my door.”

“Are you—are you painting your room?”

“Huh?”

“Because of the paint you got the other day,” she said. “And you kind of have…” She gestured at his hair and then pulled at her own in the spot.

“Oh,” he said, scowling as he slipped out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him. “So what’s up?”

“Right. Um. Yeah. Theresa told me to come get you. For dinner.” Her face was so hot she was sure blood vessels must be bursting like fireworks all through her body.

“Cool,” he said. “I’ll be down in a minute.” He turned and slipped back into his room, closing the door in her face.

Okay, then.

Rory turned and hurried back downstairs. Ned was being so weird. Even weirder than her. She was starting to wonder about him. Maybe he had a pile of dead bodies in there. More likely, a marijuana growing operation, but still. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be living in a house where the cops might show up and raid their rooms.

“I told him,” she said to Theresa. “But I’m not sure he’s coming down. He was being really… peculiar.”

“This is unusual?” Theresa asked with a smile. She set a bowl of salad in the center of the table.

“He’s kind of sketchy,” Rory said. “Do you actually know what he does in his room? I mean, not that it’s any of my business. But, well, if it’s illegal…”

Theresa laughed. “I don’t think you need to worry.”

That didn’t stop Rory, though. Ned came down a few minutes later, and she avoided looking at him for the entire meal. At least now she’d stopped obsessing about her own erratic behavior the night before. After dinner, she hurried up to her room and called her mother again.

“Well, hello, honeybun,” her mother said, as if nothing was wrong. As if she hadn’t called her four times and then disappeared off the face of the earth.

“Mom? Is everything okay? Is Dad okay?”

“Your father’s fine,” Winnie said. “A bit sunburned, but you know how he never listens to me about sunscreen.”

“What happened? I tried calling you over and over.”

“We went on a whale watch,” Winnie said. “I guess I didn’t hear my phone, or it wasn’t getting service out there on the water. A real disappointment, too. We didn’t see a single whale the whole time. Not one!”

“Mom, you scared me to death.”

“Well, I’m sorry about that,” Winnie said. “I tried to get hold of you before we left, but you weren’t answering. Guess you were having too much fun to talk to your old mom.”

“Are you drunk, Mom?”

“Of course not,” Winnie said with an unconvincing laugh. “It’s not even cocktail hour yet.”

Rory would bet her camera that her mother had stopped off at a neighbor’s for a nip of sherry, which she didn’t handle any better than Rory handled alcohol. On the rare occasions when her mother drank a glass of wine, she was even more embarrassing than usual. Quinn joked that they didn’t need birth control because their parents ensured neither of them would ever get a boyfriend. Of course, that only worked as long as they lived with their parents. And Rory was determined to change that this summer.

Here she’d been worried sick, thinking something had happened, and her mom was off on a boat ride on the ocean, getting drunk and sunburned. Rory had felt so bad for not answering, and her mother didn’t even feel bad about doing the same thing. In fact, she seemed to be in a wonderful mood. Rory was the one acting like a mom, while Winnie was drinking sherry with her vacation neighbors and probably gossiping about her and Quinn.

“What about you?” her mother asked. “How’s my honeybun?”

“I’m okay,” Rory said. “I’ll post some pictures on the blog before I go to bed.” She almost said something about Ned, but she knew that the moment her mother heard she lived with a boy, she’d flip her lid. And that was without knowing he was a secretive recluse who possibly had dead bodies or pot plants stashed in the closet. If her mother had a reprieve from worrying, it would be petty of Rory to ruin that over something that was probably nothing.

While she was still resolved, she opened her laptop, and while she talked with her mother, she submitted some photos and the application to the e-zine site. She told Winnie about her trip to Milan, omitting everything about Ned. That was the sort of thing she’d talk to Quinn about, not her parents.

Winnie told Rory about their uneventful whale-watching excursion, and how excited she was about going to a clambake in town. She sounded happy. Rory felt a little twinge of something like jealousy, but she squashed it. Winnie had always had that anything-goes attitude about vacation, but Rory would have thought that while she was overseas and not answering her phone, her mother would have spared her at least a bit of worry.

In reality, she was probably happy to put Rory out of her mind for a while. She probably couldn’t wait for her and Quinn both to move out so she could drink sherry every morning and go see as many whales as she wanted without worrying. It had to be a relief not to worry about one of her kids for a change.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” Rory said. “Tell Quinn to Skype me soon.”

“I will,” Winnie said. “You’re taking your meds, right?”

“Of course.”

“And how’s your anxiety?”

“Not bad,” Rory said. “I’m doing fine, Mom. Don’t worry about me at all. I’m having a great time, actually.”

“Well, that’s great,” Winnie said. “I’m so proud of you, honeybun. Going over there all by yourself.”

Sometimes Rory still couldn’t believe she’d done it. But it definitely would not have happened without some encouragement and reassurance from both her parents and Quinn.

“I love you, Mom,” she said. “Thank you so much for making me do this.”

“I didn’t make you,” her mother said. “You know I’d rather keep you home forever. But you’re all grown up now.”

“Okay, Mom, now you’re sounding really drunk.”

Winnie laughed, and they said their goodbyes, and Rory hung up. She shut her laptop, switched off the light, and slid under her blankets. The sound of cars outside, the sound of the city, wafted in through her open window. It was too warm to close the windows, and she’d gotten used to the noise and the light that filtered through the blinds.

But tonight she missed the quiet of home, where the only sound was the racket of crickets and other insects, which she didn’t even hear after growing up with it her whole life. She missed the darkness of Arkansas, where she could see stars in the night sky and only a few lights shone on her street instead of the overhead light pollution that hung over the city, so it was never really dark.

Most of all, she missed her mother and father coming in to say goodnight and kiss her on the forehead, like they had every day of her life. And even though it annoyed her when she was home, now that she was so far away, she missed Quinn coming into her room and sitting on her bed, talking about school and friends and movies and celebrity gossip and boys and music and college and everything else they talked about.

If she moved away from her parents, that would all be gone. Of course she could go home, but it would never be the same as it had been. That wouldn’t be her home anymore. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to be done with all that yet.