I curled up on the little couch in my apartment and researched glowing eyes and glowing skin. I got a whole load of links to graphic design websites, fantasy stories, movies and tv shows with demonic and angelic characters, and vampire fan sites. Nothing remotely medical or helpful surfaced.
I turned off my phone and stared at nothing. All I could see was Isaia's glowing belly, the shadows of his ribs lining his skin. I shuddered. How was I going to talk to Elda and Pietro about what I'd seen without sounding like a crazy person?
Six
I woke the morning of my first day off feeling groggy and troubled. A day enjoying Venice would be the perfect distraction. I tucked my map and phone into my purse, determined not to use them unless absolutely necessary. I knew where we were in general, and which direction I had to go to find Piazza San Marco.
Once outside, I began to walk. As I got closer, the calle became choked with tourists and my pace slowed considerably.
I passed a cute cafe that looked like it had once been a car from a vintage train. The semi-circular window displayed crisp looking salads, toasted bruschetta, frutta di mare, and a host of brioche and pastries. I stepped out of the river of tourists and slipped through the narrow doorway.
"Prego," said the frizzy-haired waitress behind the counter.
"Uno cappuccino, per favore," I stumbled through the words. Nearly every Italian working in Venice spoke English, but I wanted to at least try to pick up some Italian.
"Si, due minuti."
The waitress brought my coffee and I squeezed myself into a table. I pulled out my phone and looked for a second time at the photos that Targa and Georjayna had texted. Targa had sent through a collection of images of the mansion on the Baltic, a couple of selfies in front of artwork, and one of a handsome young man gazing up at a sculpture of a knight. It was obvious she'd taken it without him realizing it. He looked like a naval officer - short blond hair, lean and fit, naval jacket, and fine bones in his face. I wondered if Targa was finally feeling chemistry with this guy - Antoni. As far as I knew, she'd never had a genuine crush.
I scrolled over to Georjayna's images. These were of breathtakingly gorgeous gardens and a Victorian house. But again, I was more interested in the shot she'd sent of her adopted cousin. She'd snapped it from across the lawn - he was carrying a bunch of broken window frames. I zoomed in and shook my head. He was drop dead gorgeous. Too bad he wasn't very friendly.
"Tutto bene?" the waitress asked, and I looked up. She smiled, expectantly. Clearly, it was time to leave the table for someone else to enjoy.
"Si, grazie." I dropped my phone into my bag. "Which way to the Basilica?" It had to be close.
"To the right and to the right again. You are only a few steps away," she answered.
I rejoined the crush of people on the street. Less than two minutes later, I stepped out into the iconic Piazza San Marco.
Vertigo swept over me. Thousands of white pillars lined the square. The piazza heaved with people - taking photos, selling trinkets, standing in queues. The Basilica loomed over it all with 4 gorgeous bronze horses that looked as though they might prance right off the roof. An orchestra played across the square and I crossed to them, dodging children and pigeons.
Moving slowly through the crowd toward the ocean, I reached the water’s edge. The view of Giudecca, the island across the wide canal, took my breath away. I took out my phone and snapped a bunch of photos. I walked, enjoying the view of the canal even though it was crowded with gondolas, water busses, and boats. As I was leaning with my elbows on the thick railing and watching a gondola float underneath the bridge, a feminine voice addressed me.
I turned to see a young woman with short brown hair. She had a few coins in her hand and a pleading look on her face. She spoke rapidly in Italian.
"Non parle Italiano," I said.
"Ah, you're American."
"Canadian."
"Bellissima," she said. "Please, I don't normally do this, but, do you have eighty cents?"
I appraised her. Clean clothes, a fresh haircut, deftly applied makeup. Her blue eyeliner outlined her green eyes perfectly. Her ballet flats looked brand new. She was definitely not indigent. It was strange that she was asking me for only eighty cents.
"I might," I said. "Are you okay?"
"I am, I just lost my wallet," she explained. "I think I know where I left it, but I have a job interview close to Piazzale Roma and I don't have time to go back. I have to catch the next waterbus or I will lose my chance." She pointed to the waterbus as it pulled up to the dock. The sign said she had only a few minutes before it left and that it was indeed destined for Piazzale Roma.
"That really sucks." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a euro. "Good luck with your job interview, I hope you make it."
"Oh, thank you! Grazie mille!" she cried, taking the coin. "What is your name?"
"Saxony. Yours?"
"Federica, but Fed to my friends. A very pleasure to meet you, however short our meeting. You are very nice." She held out her hand and we shook. She walked quickly toward the waterbus. Turning back, she called, "If I get the job it will be thanks to you! Come visit me at the Gelateria Artigianale, close to the CO-OP beside Piazzale Roma." She waved.
I waved back. "I will."
She disappeared into the crowd and I continued on my way, wondering if I might have made myself a friend. As I walked in the direction of home, the greenery increased. Wisteria dripped over the tops of balconies and roses blossomed behind spindles of stone. I held up my phone to take a photo when a text flashed on my screen.
Raf: Ciao Saxony. How is Isaia today?
Me: Ciao Raf. Much better. You are sweet to ask.
Raf: Bene. Glad to hear it. What are you doing?
Me: Playing tourist. You?
Raf: Working. But I have another question for you.
Me: Tell me.
Raf: I have tickets to a presentation on the history of glass blowing tomorrow afternoon. Would you like to join me? I thought you might like it.
It took me precisely half a second to make the decision and I smiled as I typed. If I hadn't been so distracted thinking about Isaia, I might have been daydreaming about Raf's dimples.
Me: Absolutely. A che ora?
Raf: So, you are learning some Italian after all?????
Me: Si, pochino.
Raf: How about 16:40 at the Bridge of Sighs. You know it?
Me: Surprisingly, I do.
I had passed it ten minutes earlier. It was called the Bridge of Sighs because criminals being escorted to their prison cells had to pass under it on their way to jail. They would sigh because they knew they were caught and the sound would echo under the bridge.
Raf: Good. See you then.
I grinned. I had a date with a cute Italian man. Which, let’s be honest, was one of the reasons I’d wanted to come to Italy in the first place.
Seven
The next day, I walked the Jewish Ghetto because Pietro had told me that the best food in Venice could be found there. I sampled several kinds of bruschetta - gorgonzola, pomodorini and basil, speck and pecorino. The flavours melted in my mouth. My mom loved to cook so I bought a little book containing only recipes for bruschetta as a gift for her. I passed tiny restaurants jammed with laughing tourists. Gondolas moored at the edges of the canal held people relaxing against pillows while enjoying glasses of wine and plates of food.
By the time I circled back to Piazzale Roma to see if I could find the Gelateria that Federica had named, it was already mid-afternoon. Soon I would have to make my way to the Bridge of Sighs to meet Raf.
Gelateria Artigianale was easy to find. A lineup of people snaked down the street from its doorway. I stood on tiptoe to look over the crowd but the girl working was not Federica. Either Fed didn't get the job, or she had but she wasn't working at the moment. I turned back toward the waterbus station and ran smack into her. Both of us cried out in surprise.
"It's you!" she said, holding a hand over her heart.
"It's you too!" I replied, laughing.
"You came to find me. You are so sweet, Saxony." Her eyes sparkled.