Giovanna's First Decision

Mr. Carbone

           The florist’s daughter wore faded baggy clothing and slouched in a way that allowed her to effortlessly disappear if an anxiety-inducing event were to catch her by surprise. Indeed, she evidently worked hard to make herself unknown to any casual passersby, but clumsiness often found a way to ruin her efforts. Such was the case as she slipped through the frost-coated bakery doors and collapsed near Cairo Carbone’s table with a yelp.

           “I’m—ah, sorry,” She whispered, hastily attempting to recompose herself under the public eye.

           The few other people in the bakery easily dismissed her and continued chatting over the clatter of utensils and the hum of a furnace. Meanwhile, with no better entertainment to focus on than his burnt coffee and sleep-encouraging law book, Cairo continued staring at the girl as she proceeded to the baker’s counter.

           “That was quite a slip Abbey, are you alright? I’m afraid you’re a bit too early or I’d offer a maple Danish to ease your pain.” The baker called from behind his till.

           “Thanks, Jack, I’m alright. I just came in for a tea anyways—to clear my head.”

           “Well, I’m sure that fall knocked any burdensome thoughts out of you just fine.” The baker snickered.

           Cairo quickly lost interest in the conversation as the two switched topics and began chatting about meaningless town gossip. Rotten country, he shook his hands to himself emphatically, people here haven’t got any respect for each other. Always concerning themselves with any business that has jack all to do with them. And that damned baker’s forgotten about whatever’s in his oven—smells like a crematorium in here.

“Mr. Carbone.” Cairo leapt dramatically in the stiff chair as his thoughts were rudely interrupted. He glanced up to the baker and the florists’ daughter, whose attentions were turned to him.

“Ay, no need to yell when I’m sitting right near you both.” He snapped.

“Sorry, sir—er, word’s gotten ‘round that miss Vanna’s moving back to Italy, running off with some boy. Is that true?” The baker looked at him expectantly whilst the florists’ daughter shifted and shied away from his gaze. 

“Truer than true,” Cairo slammed his book shut, “but he isn’t just some boy. Young Conan is the son I never had and will have once Giovanna goes back home. They’ve had plans to get married before the two of them could speak! I’ve been waiting for these days long enough.”

The baker and the florists’ daughter shared an uneasy glance before the girl uttered, “But Mr. Carbone, what about Damon, isn’t he your son?”

“And what of him,” Cairo laughed and shook his fist, “That boy has nothing special about him at all. Just serves to take my money and spend it on useless toys and gadgets—no respect for what truly matters, like art and music. Now, Conan, he’s got his own money and talents that put my own kids to shame. Bah, don’t speak to me of Damon again. Gives me chest aches just thinking of him.”

“Right,” The baker gave a start, “You know, I haven’t seen Vanna and that friend of hers around lately—no doubt they’ve been spending lots of time together before she leaves.”

The florists’ daughter nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, that’s Ruth you’re thinking of. I think it’s great that Vanna’s finally leaving, but she’s taken Vanna’s leaving quite hard, I’ve known her nearly my whole life and have never seen her so gloomy. Why, just yesterday—”

“Ah, nonsense!” Cairo slammed his palms onto the table, ignoring the startled glances shot at him from the other customers. “Ruth’s been a good friend to my daughter, smartened her right up. Showed my Giovanna that this town is no place for her, yes, convinced her that home is back in Italy with Conan. She’s more excited than any of us to see Giovanna go home.”

“Indeed…” The baker looked astonished but kept his ideas to himself.

Cairo gave a satisfied grunt in response and promptly turned his attention back to his coffee and book. An awkward silence befell the baker and the florists’ daughter for a few moments, and both shifted uncomfortably where they stood, searching for new prompts to continue the conversation.

Rotten country, and rotten people in this town. Cairo took a disgusted sip of his lukewarm coffee. Can’t mind their damned business, always prodding me to tell them about my personal affairs. Bah, I’m lucky that Giovanna will be back home soon, where the people are respectable enough and know how to make a proper coffee.

“Baker,” Cairo boomed, “I will need another coffee. This one’s cold.”

Ruth

The sea curdled in unpleasant foam clumps under a grey sun, reaching for a splash of colour. Like the sky, Giovanna appeared ashen and grim. She emitted what colours she could with a soft pink palette, but the clouds drowned out the effort. Ruth watched her silently from the balcony, the raw skin of her ankles getting bitten by wind but remaining neglected as more pressing matters echoed in her ears. Her friend was merely a rosy lump amongst a sorrowful backdrop now, but Ruth could still watch her face through a memory.

           “Goodness me, I can’t fathom how you’re wearing such thin clothing in this wind.”

           Ruth gasped lightly and gave a sharp turn. Behind her stood Dahlia, holding a jacket and a sympathetic gaze. Dahlia herself was bundled up past what Ruth deemed as necessary, though she couldn’t judge too harshly knowing that her old bones were unaccustomed to the frozen atmosphere.

           “I suppose—” Ruth smiled with gratitude as she accepted the faded blue jacket and wrapped herself tightly in it. “I see you’re off early today.”

           Dahlia nodded, “Unless you’ve found anymore messes for me to clean. Mr. Carbone is preparing his house for Vanna’s farewell party, and I could use the extra money to pay for Victor’s medication.”

Ruth grimaced at the mention of Giovanna’s upcoming move back to Italy. Though she had pushed for her friend to leave and worked hard to appear supportive when the subject was brought up, she couldn’t deny to herself that the idea of losing Giovanna tore at her fragile heart.

“Is Victor doing any better lately? Vanna and I were just talking about how much we missed hearing his hilarious stories during lunch break.”

           “The treatment seems to be working alright,” Dahlia scratched her nose and looked down. “He’s sad that he won’t be able to say goodbye to Vanna, though. Maybe you could get her and Abbey together to write him a farewell letter before she goes?”

           “Vanna’s not keen on goodbyes, to be honest, I’m surprised that she even told anyone that she was leaving—” Ruth took in Dahlia’s paleness and a weak smile, “but I’m sure she’ll make an exception for Victor, especially if I can probably get Abbey to write a little letter too.”

           “That would be lovely.”

           Frozen shards of rain started dropping faintly, and Ruth noted that Giovanna was now completely hidden by tall boulders and trees. She shivered and hugged the jacket closer.

           “Can I ask you a question—if you promise that it stays between us?” Ruth kept her gaze on the ocean.

           “Of course, dear.” Dahlia stepped further onto the balcony, “You can always ask me anything you like, even if you don’t think I’ll have the answer you’re looking for.”

           “Have you ever had to push someone you love away, even though you didn’t want to, because you knew that it was the path that was meant for them?”

           Dahlia put a firm, frozen hand on Ruth’s shoulder and chuckled. “This is about Vanna, hm? Well, I can’t say that I’ve been in your position before, but I can give you an opinion based on what I’ve seen if you’d like.”

           Ruth considered for a moment but drifted into wondering where Giovanna had disappeared to and hoping that she would return soon before the tides started rising. She nodded at Dahlia, only half-listening to the advice that she didn’t really want.

           “I’d let her leave. She has the ambition to see the world and experience freedom, and you know that she’ll always come back to see you. Besides, you’re not completely alone. Abbey’s right here for you, and I don’t know a ton about your friendship, but think it’s a shame that you’ve grown so distant from her since becoming friends with Vanna.” Dahlia squeezed Ruth’s shoulder, and without another word, she let go and walked back inside.

           The rain was starting to pick up speed and intensity, carrying salt through the air and burning Ruth’s face. With Giovanna still nowhere in sight, she felt a wave of dread begin to form in her chest.

           “Please don’t leave,” Ruth whispered to the ocean as if it had the ability to send her words directly to Giovanna, “I take back what I said earlier, I need you here. Please stay.”

           Water trickled down her face and rolled off the balcony railing. She began frantically searching the shoreline for Giovanna through a freezing fog that was beginning to form, but all she could see were colourless rocks and brutal waves drawing nearer. She cursed and ran back into the house.

           “Dahlia,” she called, “the tides rising, and Vanna hasn’t come back in yet.”

Giovanna

           Giovanna couldn’t seem to find her tongue anywhere, not since she dropped it after announcing to Ruth that she was going back to Italy. Since then, she had been scouring every road and building to find it, but to no avail. The ocean was the last resort, and so far, she was short on luck.

           She imagined that a crab must’ve snuck into her room as she slept and snipped her tongue off before retreating into the unforgiving water. “If only it really worked like that.” She thought.

           Ruth was only a gloomy blur from where she stood on the shoreline, but Giovanna could still feel her resentment and misery between the distance. “This is on you. If you wanted me to stay, you should have said so instead of turning on me and forcing me to leave.”

           The thought of Ruth made her cheeks burn and her muscles tense. She had to get as far away from Ruth as she could and keep looking for her tongue. It had to be here somewhere. With a final glance at Ruth’s house, she stepped into the shadow of the large boulders and kept walking.

           She stood on the edge of the shore at a decent distance from the waves, but seawater still managed to attack the pink shawl that she had gotten from Ruth. She held it close with a loose grip, regretting that she had not grabbed a different shawl to keep her warm. She remembered holding the soft fabric for the first time, overwhelmed by the beautiful colour and sentiment that had been sewn into the gift. Now, she looked at it with distaste and heartache, wondering if this was the last time that she would ever wear it.

           Nearby, a curious seagull dropped itself on top of a smooth rock, eyeing the ground for any type of food source. “Maybe he’s here to help me find what I’ve lost.” Giovanna laughed at her foolish thoughts.

           The seagull looked at her suspiciously but didn’t show any sign of fear or desire to fly away. He was content on the rock, and Giovanna envied his calm disposition. She stopped walking and stared into the seagull's soft, dark eyes.

           “I envy you,” she said aloud to the bird, “If you’re unhappy somewhere, you get to fly away. I can’t do that. See? I don’t even have wings. The only flight I get to experience is a one-way ticket to a place that I swore never to return to.”

           Her new friend remained quiet and kept staring as if prodding her to continue talking.

           “All because my father planned this extravagant life out for me so that he could get closer with Conan and pretend that he has at least one perfect child. Do you know how frustrating that is?” The seagull squawked in response. “Exactly! No matter what my brother and I have done, he never appreciates it. And the one person I thought would be there to fight for me to stay has turned on me and told me that I have to do as my father says.”

           The seagull squawked again, evidently disinterested in the conversation but too lazy to leave. Vanna felt a familiar energy building in her throat as the waves began roaring louder nearby as if cheering her on.

           “And she’s sending me away for what? I’ll tell you—all because she thinks that she’ll ruin my life if she continues to be part of it. Ha! It’s complete nonsense, the sheer audacity she must have to believe that the only reason that I’ve got to stay is for her. Haven’t I got my own ambitions? Aren’t I my own person? No, I’m just poor little Vanna who can’t make any decisions for herself.”

           Giovanna took a deep breath and exhaled a cloud that lingered in the air for a moment. In her rage, she hadn’t noticed that rain had begun to fall and slip off the rocks in a chaotic mess. She was shivering, but somehow the energy in her throat had spread to her core and begun to warm her up.

           “You know what else? The whole time I’ve been here, Abbey has resented me for stealing Ruth away, even though I didn’t mean to do that. Ever since I got here, I’ve tried so hard to help Abbey stop being invisible and get Ruth’s attention back, but she pushes me aside as if I’m an enemy. I didn’t want any of this, do you hear me?”

           The seagull didn’t respond, or maybe it did, but Giovanna was distracted by the growing waves and ringing in her ears. She closed her eyes and took a moment to recollect herself.

           “I’m done living for other people.” She took a deep breath and promptly dropped the shawl from her shoulders, allowing it to blow into the ocean with the wind. “I have to go, seagull, the waves are getting too close.”

           As if understanding her words, the seagull pushed itself from the rock and flew away into a light fog as Giovanna began heading back to Ruth’s house, rubbing her bare arms with stiff hands. The cold was nearly unbearable, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret throwing the shawl away. She stared at the waves, which were now receding, and picked up her pace. The tide was about to come in at any second, and she was nowhere near the house.

           “At least I’ve finally found my tongue,” she thought as she shivered under the brutal assault of growing waves throwing themselves at her bare skin.