Love & Gelato(65)

JUNE 6

Tonight Howard and I were sitting on the swing on the front porch, my feet in his lap, and he asked me a question: “If you could photograph anything in the world, what would it be?” Before I could even think about it I blurted out “hope.” I know, cheesy, right? But I mean hope as in stillness, those moments when you just know that things are going to work out. It’s the perfect description of my time here. I feel like I’ve hit the snooze button, and I’m taking a breath before I face whatever comes next. I know that my time is slowly ticking down here, but I don’t want it to end.

JUNE 7

I want to record every minute of what happened today.

Howard woke me up just before five a.m. and told me he wanted to show me something. We hiked back behind the cemetery, me half-asleep and wearing pajamas. It was still gray out, and it felt like we walked for hours. Then finally I saw where we were going. Ahead in the distance was a small round tower. It was old-looking and completely on its own, like something that was waiting to be discovered.

Once we got to it, Howard led me to the entrance. There was a small wooden door that had probably been put there to keep out trespassers, but had broken down with time and weather. He moved it out of our way, and then we both ducked under the doorway and followed a spiral staircase out to the top of the tower. We were just high enough to get a view of everything around us, and I could see the tops of the cemetery’s trees and the road that leads to Florence. I asked him what we were doing there, and he told me to just wait. And so we did. We stood there without talking as the sun rose in the most amazing pinks and golds, and before long the whole countryside was awash in color. I felt this sudden ache—it had been cold and dark for so long, and then suddenly, slowly, it wasn’t.

When it was full daylight I turned around. Howard was watching me, and it was like I was suddenly seeing him for the first time. I walked over to him and suddenly we were kissing like we’d kissed a million times before. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. When he finally pulled back we didn’t say a word. I just took his hand and we went home.

JUNE 8

I keep thinking about what it was like to be with X. When I had his attention it was like a spotlight was shining on me and everything in the world was right. But the second he looked away I was cold and alone. I tried to find the word for “fickle” in Italian, and the closest I came up with was “volubile.” It means “turning, whirling, winding.” I was attracted to that whirlwind feeling in X, but it also left me feeling uprooted. I thought I wanted caprice and fire, but it turns out that what I really want is someone who will wake me up early so I don’t miss a sunrise. What I really want is Howard. And now I have him.

JUNE 10

Francesca came for a visit yesterday. Maybe I’m just not used to her anymore, but in the course of three weeks she’d somehow managed to become an exaggerated version of herself. Her stilettos were a half-inch taller, her clothes were even more fashionable, and she was smoking a record amount of cigarettes.

After dinner we sat around talking. I thought Howard and I were doing a great job of hiding this new thing between us, but as soon as he went to bed Francesca said, “So it happened.” I tried to play dumb, but she said, “Please, Hadley. Don’t patronize me. I don’t know why you think you have to keep all your relationships secret. I could tell the second I walked in that something had happened between the two of you. Now tell me all the details. Subito!”

I told her about the past few weeks—how peaceful and healing they’ve been. And then I told her about the morning at the tower and how perfect everything has felt for the past few days. When I finished she sighed dramatically. “It’s like a favola, Hadley. A fairy story. You’ve fallen in love for real. So now what will you do? Aren’t you returning to America?” Of course I had no answers for her. I’ve submitted my portfolio to several schools and should hear back from most of them by the end of summer. Yesterday, on a whim, I asked Petrucione if he’d ever consider hiring me as an assistant teacher, but he silenced me with one look and then told me I was too talented to waste any more time.

That’s when Francesca told me. At first all she said was, “He contacted me.” I asked who, but by the way my heart was beating I knew who she meant. “He found me working on a set in Rome. His excuse was to congratulate me on my internship, but I knew the real reason. He wanted to find you.” For a moment I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. (He was trying to find me?) “He said that you’d changed your phone number and now that you’re no longer enrolled at the institute, your school e-mail doesn’t work.” I’d never considered that I might be unreachable. I had about a million thoughts running through my mind, and Francesca was watching me carefully. “I didn’t give him your information, but I took his. Hadley, I think it would be a mistake, but I didn’t want to play God. If you want to contact him I have his new phone number. He said he’s had a change of heart. That he has something he wants to tell you.” Then she handed me a business card. His name was embossed on it in large letters and his new phone number and e-mail were spelled out like a trail of bread crumbs.

That night I could hardly sleep, but it wasn’t because I was conflicted. It was because I was so sure. X could appear on a white stallion carrying a dozen roses and a perfectly crafted apology, and I still wouldn’t want him. I want Howard.