Patrizia ran her tongue over her teeth, before staring into her latte caldo. She swallowed the rest in one gulp, coughed, and moved to get her purse. Placing some coins in the tray next to the register, she said goodbye. Chiara waved, and placed the cup into the sink.
Fabrizio followed Patrizia’s exit with his eyes and then stood and crossed the bar to the counter. “Chiara?”
Chiara turned up the water and began humming.
Fabrizio stood up and moved to the bar. “Chiara?”
Chiara stiffened and washed the cup more thoroughly than was strictly necessary given that she’d overspent for a dishwasher with scouring capabilities.
“Chiara!”
She jumped and turned off the water. Chiara dried her hands on the towel before facing Fabrizio. “Yes? Can I get you something to eat?”
“No. But something is bothering you. I’d like to know what it is.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Chiara.”
“Really! It’s nothing, I just got in a fight with a friend earlier, and I guess I’m not really feeling right since then.”
“What did you fight about?”
Chiara flushed and concentrated on drying the counter.
Fabrizio went on. “I know it’s not my place. But something is clearly bothering you, and I thought it might help to talk about it.”
Chiara shook out the towel and then, tucking it back into her apron, she blurted, “Okay, if you must know, you, actually.”
Fabrizio rubbed his thumbnail. “Me?”
Biting her lip, Chiara said, “Look, you know people are suspicious, and you aren’t exactly candid, plus we haven’t even talked since—”
“Ah.”
“Ah? What is that supposed to mean?”
“It seems that perhaps that’s the problem.”
“Well, maybe. I mean, it’s not exactly normal. We had that one night talking and . . . well, mostly talking. And since then, you’ve been closed tight as an Adriatic clam. Maybe you regret it, or—”
“Regret it? Chiara, why would you think that? We agreed to take it slow. I was respecting that. Respecting you.”
“I know. But I guess when we’re not talking, and then there’s all these wild theories about why you’re here, it makes me second guess everything.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
Chiara smiled. “It doesn’t feel like me either, but there you have it.”
Fabrizio leaned across the bar and said, “If it helps, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
Chiara closed her eyes and focused on catching her breath. “You haven’t?”
“Mmm . . . At night, I’ve had the most delicious dreams. I even came by at one in the morning the other night, hoping I’d see a light on.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Honestly? I didn’t want to scare you off. That night, Chiara. It was beautiful . . . magical. I was afraid if I was too close to you you’d see my hunger to be with you again and you’d feel pressured. I won’t break this delicate thing between us.”
Chiara swallowed, her skin prickling in anticipation of his touch.
As if in answer, Fabrizio ran his finger over her cheek and pulled her chin across the bar to softly press his lips against hers.
He pulled back and smiled. “Besides, there’s always some blasted person in here. Getting you alone takes actual stalking.”
Chiara shivered at the word, but shook it off. She looked around the empty bar. “I’m alone now.”
“I see that.”
“It’s a little cold for a walk though.”
Fabrizio flushed, saying “Could we go upstairs?”
“Edo. I’m not ready yet to explain . . .”
“Understood. Well, I’ve always enjoyed the brisk night air. At least it’s clear. It’s supposed to rain tomorrow.”
“I’ll get a blanket.”
Fatima did a double take. Was that someone huddled on the playground bench? It was too drizzly and cold to be sitting outside. In fact, she had her umbrella fixed over her head as she hurried home with a bag of mandarini and a head of lettuce. Wait, was that Elisa? The hat looked familiar.
Fatima ventured closer. “Elisa?”
Elisa’s head jerked up. She gasped before registering that the person standing in front of her in the half-light was Fatima. “Oh, Fatima. You scared me.”
“What are you doing out here?”
Elisa drew her knees up to under her chin and her chin trembled. “I can’t go home.”
Fatima thought about asking why, but she knew why. Instead she sat down on the bench and drew her arm through Elisa’s, holding the umbrella above them both. She said, “He’s in a bad mood?”
Elisa thought about expressing surprise at Fatima’s question, but she also didn’t have the energy to pretend. “Yes.”
“Worse than usual?”
“Yes.” She leaned her head on Fatima’s.
“Oh, Elisa, I’m so sorry.”
Elisa nodded, then said, “It had gotten better. Or, not better exactly, but easier because my brothers have let me go with them when they leave. We talk about other things, and I’ve shown them my drawings. It would be a nice time if we didn’t have to wonder . . .”
Fatima nodded, then asked, “But tonight?”
“Oh, right. No, my brothers are both at a soccer tournament. It’s just me. I tried to get out like I do when I’m with them, but it doesn’t work alone. I hate it, Fatima. I hate him.”
“I know.”
Elisa drew in a shaky breath. “And this time, when my father was yelling at her, he kept saying my name. Like I am her fault.” Elisa’s voice shook and the tears she’d been choking back sprung free.
Fatima wrapped her arms around her friend, “Hey, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
“How?”
Fatima stroked Elisa’s hair and thought about the question. “I have no idea.”
Elisa moaned. “And what’s going to happen when my brothers go to university?”
Shaking her head, Fatima said, “I don’t know. But by then, you’ll be in high school. So you’ll be gone more. And maybe you can come to my house.”
“Your house?”
“Yes. I’ve been thinking about this. With Maestro the way he is nowadays, and
