Delete.
20
A little after eight, Liam and I are seated at a cozy restaurant that’s within walking distance of the Trevi Fountain, but not close enough to be a tourist trap. Being this close in proximity to my favorite place in the world, I’m itching to travel the distance and stare at it for no less than three hours.
“Perhaps after dinner we’ll go see your fountain,” Liam suggests over his menu.
I smile and nod, knowing he must have chosen this restaurant due to its location.
A handsome Italian waiter with slicked-back hair soon comes over to greet us and finds us ready to order. We’re somewhat plain and picky eaters and both order rigatoni Bolognese. The waiter hates us. He does, however, brighten up when Liam orders an expensive bottle of white wine. Once the wine is poured, Liam sends the waiter away with a regal nod of his head and raises his glass, prompting me to do the same.
“What shall we toast to?” he asks through a small grin. He looks ten years younger, more like his age of thirty-four, when he smiles like that, and my mind starts to go a little sideways. I unconsciously move closer to the table as I wonder if I could ever see him as more than a friend despite my initial uncertainty.
“To us,” I say, “and to our antisocial comrades throughout the world.”
“Poetry if I’ve ever heard it.”
We tap our glasses together and savor our first sips. Much as I’ve tried to enjoy red wine since I’ve been here, I’ll always prefer white. I’m glad Liam concurs.
Setting my glass down in front of me, I wait a very appropriate ten seconds before I begin my assault on the bread basket in the middle of the table. The bread is toasted to perfection and drizzled in olive oil, and Liam soon snags a piece for himself. He knows the deal. Our best conversations always require devouring carbs.
“Do you consider us good friends?” I soon hear myself ask.
Liam appreciates blunt questions and chuckles mid-chew.
“I do. Not many people can manage to put up with me on such a regular basis. Our companionship is quite the phenomenon.” He takes a sip of wine and leans back in his chair. “Why? Do you consider me a good friend?”
I take a sip of my wine as well, answering his question with my glass still in my hand. “I do. I like how nothing is forced with us. We don’t talk if we don’t want to and we only see each other every day because we feel like it. It would be easy for us to ditch each other. I think it’s nice that neither of us wants to yet.”
“Neither of us wants to yet? Does that mean you may potentially be ditching me in the near future?”
I smile and shrug as I take another sip. “Who knows? You’ll just have to stick to your A-game to keep me enthralled.”
“I’ll do that,” he says, drinking more of his wine as well.
Two glasses each later, our food arrives and the timing couldn’t be better. I’m beginning to feel loopy and some sustenance is needed. We dig into our meals and it takes a minute or so for either of us to come up for air.
“You’ve been here for about a month, haven’t you?” he asks. I nod and take another bite. “Do you ever miss home?”
“Sometimes, but I try not to think about it.”
“How do you not think about it?”
I rest my fork down in my bowl and scoot around a bit in my seat. “I try to keep occupied. I cook or watch a movie or write.”
He seems to think about my reply as he lifts his glass to take a somewhat ample sip. I raise my eyebrows at his unusual lack of restraint.
“Do you ever miss home?” I ask, trying to seem less curious than I am.
Liam looks down at the wineglass he’s now rotating in his fingers. “Do I miss home?” he repeats. “No, I don’t miss home. Why should I miss home or anyone there when I doubt any of them miss me?”
When our eyes meet, I can see the sadness there. He looks away and reaches for the nearly empty wine bottle, pouring out the last drops into our glasses.
“Enough with our morose questions. Now, what say you and I get drunk?” He lifts his glass up for a toast and I bring mine up to meet his.
If Liam is going to indulge then I am, too. I down my glass in a very unladylike gulp. He smiles and signals the waiter over to order another bottle.
Two hours later, we finally make our way to the Trevi Fountain and I have, in the meantime, come to the conclusion that we should be drunk all the time. Liam insisted on buying every postcard he could find of the Pantheon from multiple souvenir shops on the way over, swearing he was going to create a mural replica to scale. I laughed so much I almost cramped up. If I had any idea he was this entertaining once you got a few drinks in him, I would have insisted on boozy breakfasts from the get-go.
We situate our tipsy selves directly in front of the fountain, and I only have one rule as I stand before hundreds of years of history.
Do not fall in.
Thankfully, there are stone benches for viewers to sit on parallel to the fountain, and we quickly throw ourselves down onto the nearest one, getting comfortable and leaning back. It’s somewhat uncommonly deserted tonight, just a handful of groups here and there, and I can’t help but enjoy the moderate quiet. I stare straight ahead, allowing myself to relax as I lose myself in the absolute magic that is the Fontana di Trevi.
“Do you think there’s anything in the world more beautiful than this?” I ask in a lazy voice.
Liam looks forward
