Florence Fiction Friday (1-3)

1

Hello everyone, I’ve been needing a new project to work on while waiting to hear back from agents, so I decided to start a story on my blog and see where it leads. I’ll release a new part every Friday or every other Friday. Disclaimer: the main character, Lauren, is not me but on occasion real events will be thrown in.

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Really, Lauren, why did you think you could handle this? I asked myself as I stepped off my plane in Amsterdam. Not knowing anyone but surrounded by thousands of people, I got pushed along with the crowd. My bags weighed me down and I tripped on the flat escalator. Arms aching, I pressed on to find my next destination. I tried to get euros at an ATM but my card was declined.

I almost cried. Where was my mom? My best friend? Sweating, I realized my gate to Florence changed. I groaned and picked my bags back up, this adventure was far from over. Isolated, dripping sweat, tired from spending the whole night packing, I just wanted to go back to South Dakota.

Two hours later, we landed. Beautiful mountains and sunshine greeted us. A good first impression, but I was nervous to met the people I’d be living with. A girl and two guys. I’d never lived with a guy before. Never even had one like me back.

A crammed taxi ride later, my roommates and I got dropped off on a narrow street. Standing awkwardly outside our apartment, the girl already pulled out her phone. I heard her telling someone she missed them; the baby voice she used told me it was a boyfriend or a small child. I knew nothing about her, other than what I could see: pleasantly chubby with a thick hourglass shape and fancy clothes. She was the kind of person to dress up for the airport.

Yikes.

“I’m Lauren,” I said. My voice was quiet and I couldn’t tell if they were ignoring me or didn’t hear me, but I did not try again.

The guys, relatively the same height though one had a dad bod and the other had nice shoulders, forced their way into our apartment. We were on floor two—three in Italian terms since the first floor is floor zero. Our place was cramped and a coldness met us at the door (it took me a few days to realize this constant chill wouldn’t go away). They trotted into one room and I stumbled into another. The girl came in after, uttering something to me in-between talking on the phone, but I couldn’t decipher it.

I checked my phone, no texts. I’d  messaged my friends but they were hours behind me and asleep. Leaving my bags packed, I climbed into the shower. Cold water rushed over my body, making me more alert and even sadder. Additionally, the water pressure was non-existent; I couldn’t even get my hair wet. So instead, I sat on the ground, letting the backed-up drain pool water around me.

I cried.

2.

It was a long week of settling in. My roommates—Alissa, Greg, and Matt—were busy a lot. I spent my time alone, but I didn’t mind exploring the place that was to be my home for the next five months. Though I was mostly homesick and wished people back home missed me, I did appreciate the beauty around me. Like when I walked at night across the bridge and the city lights danced across the Arno. Like when I found a new place with awesome paninis or cheap wine. Birds were chirping already and it was only January. To avoid winter was a blessing.“What’re you gonna do today?” Greg, AKA Dad Bod Guy asked, storming into my room as if he was on a mission to save the world. Greg had a goofy smile and talked to me the most of anyone in the program.

It was a Saturday and I had nothing going on. “Probably just explore.”

“Cool. Matt and I are going to dinner if you wanna join.”

Though social invitations made me anxious, I agreed to go. I figured, if nothing else, I could look at Matt’s shoulders as he led us to the restaurant. I downed some wine and followed them out the door. We crossed the street and a yellow sign caught my gaze; an adorable bakery sat below it. Somehow, I’d missed it this entire week. I wandered by slowly, looking through the window at all their treats. When I looked up to check prices, I instead found a tall, dark-haired Italian studying me from behind the counter. He waved. The school warned us about the advances of Italian men, but he worked there and was just being friendly. I blushed and scrambled on, running into Greg.

Matt laughed, a rich sound I’d heard only a few times. Matt scared me with his intense blue eyes and buzzed hair. I was not confident we would ever be friends.

“Hey, wait!”

We turned to see Alissa emerge from the apartment building. It’s one of the few times she hadn’t been talking on the phone, but I was thankful to have her with nonetheless. Our first dinner as roommates.

As usual, I ordered pizza. The Italian pizzas always had globs of cheese and thin-crust Dominos was impossible to find, but I swallowed my American ignorance/preferences as I swallowed another piece of pizza. We ordered two bottles of wine to split, thankfully. Wine made me more talkative.

“Did you guys know each other before you came here?” I asked Greg.

“Yeah, we’re both in SAE,” Matt responded, meeting my eyes. He looked so serious and I wondered if he managed to bring such intensity to every activity in life.

“Neat,” I replied, trying to not sound too uninterested.

“I don’t know anyone,” Alissa said. She was a hard one to read, but nice overall.

We drank more and wandered around Florence. At the Piazza Della Rebbuplica, I saw one of the first things I fell in love with: the carousal.

“Can we go?” It surprised me to hear the question come from Greg’s lips and not my own.

Two euros later, our heads weren’t the only things spinning. Seated next to Alissa, I felt a surge of confidence as the air tossed me hair. “So, why’d you come here?”

“I was hungry,” Alissa said.

“No, Florence.”

“Oh. I don’t know.” A pause. “Why did you?”

I thought about it. “Actually, I don’t know.”

She grunted in a way that resembled a laugh. “You know, I had to pay to use the bathroom the other day.”

“That’s a thing! I don’t get it. I had to hold my pee for four hours on Monday because I didn’t have any money. It was rock bottom for me, I think. I miss mac and cheese.”

“I miss water fountains.”

“I miss cheddar cheese.”

“Dude, Italy has so many fancy cheeses, how do you miss that?”

“Just because you dress fancy and like fancy cheese doesn’t mean that’s how we all feel,” I reminded her playfully. “Sometimes I walk past bookstores and cry because I can’t read any of the books.”

“Wait, why can’t you read them?”

“They’re in Italian!”

“Oh yeah. Nerd.”

I spot Greg and Matt across the carousal. I waved. Greg waved back.

I smiled.

3.

Alissa’s laugh pierced the night. I glanced over, assuming she was on the phone with her boyfriend, but instead found her standing on our balcony. Grumbling as I walked over to check what she was laughing at, a scene sprawled out in front of me. Three guys on the ground below our balcony formed a little circle and waved their hands around while ferociously speaking in Italian.

Alissa liked to pretend she knew things. Case in point:  “They’re arguing about drugs.”

“Really?”

“I dunno. Probably. I mean, look at them. Their hair is greased back, one of them looks half conscious. The other one… hey, he’s actually kinda hot.”

I focused in again. The baker.

The baker swung at the guy on his left, causing him to stumble back. Simultaneously, I stumbled back into my room. It was a rough reminder that we didn’t know anything about this country or the people. The baker might’ve seem like an attractive, innocent-enough guy, but that blow he’d just dealt said otherwise.

Alissa rolled her eyes at me. “Honestly, Lauren, don’t act so sheltered.”

My face heated up. I’d had enough of people not understanding me or telling me who I was. This past week, it felt like too many people were telling me how to adjust to a new country, how to fit in, blah blah blah. I’d had enough of it. “Honestly, Alissa, what makes you think it’s a good idea to watch whatever’s going on down there? What if they see you? Then they’ll know where we live.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Dude, shut up. You have a boyfriend.”

She tossed her caramel-colored hair in the way I thought they only did in movies about high-school girls.

“Anyway, why don’t you spy on the old woman across the building? Her windows always open and there’s some janky smells coming out of it.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Before I could answer, something shattered my thoughts. Below us, the man on the baker’s left had shoved the other man into a window. Alissa screamed when she saw the body, unmoving. The baker looked up and met my eyes. This time, my tall and dark Italian did not wave.

I heard Greg and Matt’s heavy steps before I saw them.

“What happened?” Greg burst in. Matt looked a little more alive than usual.

Alissa grabbed my arm and whispered, “They saw us. Oh, God, what did we just see?”

Matt moved us out of the way and peered over. “What’s going on? There’s nothing there.”

“What?” Alissa all but screamed. She leaned over the ledge. “What?”

I pushed them both aside, expecting to see the baker staring up at us. He was gone and so was the body.

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