I can’t believe you are so excited to leave,” Mauro said, smiling. The sun hung like a gold coin over the crest of the mountain, and the air was still, warm and charged. We had hiked for most of the day, and I had learned that Mauro, my sometimes-guide for the past few days, had been in Europe longer than he had been in his own country. I had been begging him to take me to, what I thought was an interesting-looking natural bridge near the peak we were climbing. He smiled silently as we discussed the possibility before realizing that my feet had given up the fight against the uneven ground and I was breathing heavily. “Or maybe I can…” He replied, laughing gently, and held his hand out to help me up the hill.
A month ago, I decided to move out of my family home and start living on my own. I had gotten back from Scotland after finishing my degree. The picturesque setting of castles and mountains painted a perfect back drop to growing up. It was home, and one of the most beautiful places I had ever been, but I knew I could never settle down there. I wanted to travel and live somewhere very unlike my hometown. I had thought about going to India or Costa Rica, but eventually decided Italy seemed like the perfect place to begin my life.
I could speak the language, and the family I was renting the apartment from from a previous year had offered to let me have the keys when they went off on vacation. They even let me stay there during the late summer when business started to slow down. By the time August approached I was done with studying. It had been a long time since I had been able to take some time for myself. Being able to travel through Italy by myself felt like something I had been craving for a long time, and I jumped at the chance. It felt like a combination of freedom and adventure.
It was hard leaving my family. They had been amazing while I was growing up, but I felt like I had spread myself too thin sitting down every night to discuss all the details of my day. Which leads me back to Mauro, the older guy helping me find my way around, whom I had encountered in the youth hostel.
He had found me crying in the kitchen late one night, on my fifth cup of sugar-free cocoa. My stomach was upset, and all I was thinking about was how tired I was and how unhappy I felt. He put an arm on my shoulder.
“You seem lonely. Are you lonely?” he asked.
“Lonely? No, thank you, I’m fine,” I responded.
“I can help you with that,” he said, hooking a finger in the direction of my backpack and pulling it towards his chest. He unzipped it and started digging around.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
By then, he had found a bottle of red wine and some glasses.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to drink, it’s one of my best friends’ favorite vintages. He is a winemaker, and we thought we should share something from his family for the trip.” His voice was gentle yet gentlemanly, and I just looked at him.
“Go ahead,” he said, “it will help to relax the nerves.”
Exhaling heavily, I took the glasses and put them on the counter in front of me. “Okay, I guess so,” I replied. He brushed a few menus off of the table and set it with linen, taking an orange from the table and tossing it up between his hands as he tried to win me over.
“It’s tough being on your own, isn’t it?” he asked.
“You have no idea,” I said hesitantly, taking the glass from him and expecting the heavy, overbearing wine my grandfather had enjoyed. I drank it quickly with an intimidating grimace.
“Do another,” he said with a smile. “It’s supposed to taste bad at first. You hit the point where it is perfect around the third glass.”
Mauro seemed to get a kick out of me. My face was scarlet as I began drinking again, and I could feel him watching.
“You are very different from all the girls I know,” he said, the comment gentle but suggestive. “Well, almost all of them.”
I flashed a smile in response. I felt comfortable with him, and I felt like I could tell him anything.
“You’re so lively, so talkative compared to everyone else. They all seem to be more quiet, or if they do speak, it’s mostly small talk.”
“I’m nosey,” I told him with a laugh. We walked into the kitchen and I poured myself the last glass of wine into the bottle, and he looked at me.
“Let me tell you about my life,” I said.
“Okay,” he said, sitting beside me on the chair.
“I grew up in a little town in Northern Italy. My father was a doctor and my mother was an elementary school teacher. I am the middle child. My sister is older and my brother is six years younger.”
“You’re all by yourself for the summer?” he asked.
“Uh huh, and my best friend is also going to be staying in the place I’m going to rent. I haven’t seen her since the spring.”
He nodded his head slightly in agreement.
“Yeah, my family and I haven’t even had time to all be together since December.” He paused for a moment.
“Yeah, our parents were staying in Italy in the same place, and they said we could all be together for Christmas. But already, we had different plans. I had jobs, my brother had a girlfriend, and Andrea had an offer to play golf in Italy, so it worked because we all had somewhere to be.”
“I understand. It’s what family is about,” he said.
“Do you have a big family?” I asked.
“Only my wife and I and our two children. They are going to be waiting for me when I come back.” Mauro thought for a moment.
“I am alone for the whole summer and I want to see her,” he said, staring down at his hands. He picked one at random and traced his finger along the edges. “I am alone for a very long time.”
Accepting a second glass, I waited till it warmed me up before putting it to my lips again. I smiled when Mauro took the glass, too.
“My mom always looks at me with concern when I leave because she doesn’t know if I will make it.” I laughed, and his eyes narrowed a little. “What’s funny?” he asked.
“How I look at everyone who leaves my home untouched,” I said.
“It must be horrible when you are not as independent as your mother or your father is.”
“It is isn’t it?” I said, shrugging slightly. “I don’t know a lot of people who don’t let go of their parents – they seem to think it’s the only way to be. But I’ve enjoyed being able to fly on my own- I hate routines and I hate planning. Do you like planning?”
He smiled, slightly.
“Well, I guess while you are dreaming, you don’t have to worry about things. So you just do what you like the most. My wife loves to plan and she loves to dream – I get left in the dust trying to keep up.”
“Sounds like fun.” I giggled.
“It’s not always fun, but I’m still glad I spend so much time pursuing my dreams that I forget sometimes to go back to the one I had.”
I was about to ask if it were a woman when I heard a couple talking in the next room.
“Shush, it’s not nice to eavesdrop,” I said to him, and he raised his hand in a hand gesture that said ‘I know, I know.”
“The girl next door is talking in a very loud voice,” he replied. I looked over to see if she was still there. She was not, but for the briefest moment, I thought I heard the sound of a can being opened.
“What’s she talking about?” I asked. I was intrigued.
“Things are rough for my family right now, and it is difficult on her sister. She goes to work after she goes to sleep, to keep up with things and make sure the bills are handled,” he explained. “It’s too bad, she showed me where the laundry machines was before she went to sleep, and I said I would help tomorrow.”
I giggled at the idea of why it was funny.
“I had no idea that she was a single parent,” I continued. “Maybe it is better that way. At other times, she was the friend I didn’t have.” I looked him in the eyes, and we both seemed to think the same thing.
“I’ve never wanted children, only to paint. I’ve always felt that I have too much energy to be a mother, to try to be a mother,” I said. I felt my face flush as the subject started to become a bit more personal with Mauro. “I’ve never been one for asking for help either. People are always happy to help with things, and then you don’t know what to do with it. I’ve always been the one to try to fix everything.”
“We are always here for you if you need anything.
