Amore

‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’ Sam erupted.

‘I’m really sorry, Mr. Dawson! The requirements were clearly stated on the voucher. The extra ticket had to be confirmed.’ the travel agent replied wearing her most innocent smile. Despite the formality of her tone, as words began their journey from her frontal lobe they were caught in a most intricate process. By the time they were given shape by her full lips they would acquire a mesmerizing quality, honey like, capable of disarming an armored bear.

‘But I’m sure there’s still something we can do, right?’ Andrew interceded, afraid that Sam’s temper would get the best of him and break away the intercourse.

‘Not really, no!’ she continued plainly, ‘at least not in regards to the airplane ticket, and there’s nothing else available unless you want to visit the rest of the world in the process. The room was booked separately so there’s some good news. I guess we’ll be cancelling the hotel booking, Mr. Dawson?’ and she began tapping away elegantly at her keyboard. ‘We’ll wave any cancelation fees of course.’

‘That won’t be necessary’ answered Sam. He had regained his composure and was staring intently into her deep blue eyes.

‘Ooooh!’ she said, caught of guard by the sureness of his tone.

‘Excuse us for a second, miss.’ said Andrew and pulled Sam a bit to the side. He then continued in a hushed tone. ‘What do you mean by that Sam?’

‘Who was in charge of reserving the tickets?’ Sam asked.

‘John and Matt.’ Andrew answered.

‘Right! And how is it that someone conveniently forgot to confirm the free ticket?’ a flame had come alive behind Sam’s brown eyes, they were glistening with a reddish tint by the time he said: ‘My ticket!’

‘Hmmmm! I agree!’

‘It’s that weasel faced asshole’s fault. Ever since he saw Sonia’s picture he’s been hosting a one man drooling party in that perverted little brain of his, and now that I’m conveniently out of the picture he’s looking forward to extending her an invitation.’ Sam growled, cheeks reddened by rage.

‘Yeah, that sounds like Matt. He’s been far too joyful these past few days.’ Andrew acknowledged. ‘So what are you planning? Are you going to swim to Formentera?’

‘If I have to! I’m not backing off so easily.’ and then to the travel agent ‘Miss, can you add an extra hold baggage on my friend’s ticket here?’

‘Sure thing, but I would advise against this, it can get pretty chilly at that altitude.’ she smiled broadly as she typed away. ‘Done! Can I help you with anything else, the Ibiza ferry schedule, boat rental cards, maybe some parachute lesson flyers? One never knows with turbulence these days.’

Andrew was chuckling behind him.

‘I’ll take the ferry schedule please and whatever else you might have about Ibiza and how I can get there.’ Sam said absently, cogs already spinning.

‘A man not easily discouraged I see. She must be a very lucky girl!’ Something hypnotic definitely happened there, even though they couldn’t put a finger on it.

‘Yeah!’ Sam said taken aback. ‘We’ll see. Thank you for everything! Take care!’

‘Bye, Mr. Dawson!’ she replied slyly.

Andrew had been chuckling all the way as they exited the building. As soon as they were out he said to Sam, ‘Did you know you turn a nice shade of idiot red when you’re flustered?’

‘What?’

‘Forget about it, what’s your plan?’

‘Do you still have the key to my apartment?’

‘Yeah!’

‘I’ll go pack and you can come get my bag as soon as you can.’

‘Yeah, I kind of got that. How are you planning on getting there though, I assume you’re not just treating your tidy withies to an all paid vacation?’

‘I’ll figure something out! And don’t tell weasel face I’m coming, I want to see him squirm. When’s the festival starting?’

‘You got it, Romeo! Thursday.’ and with this exchange they parted ways.

………………

The guy looked greasy, a perfect blend of Louisiana read neck and Romanian douchebag. But strangely enough, he had neither in him. He looked to be fifty something years old, thick shouldered, with his skin baked to a golden brown by the torrid sun. When he smiled it was as if all the ruggedness melt away, this was something common to honest, hard working people.

He drove one of those old pickup trucks you see in the movies and the image eased Sam’s tension a notch. He half expected to find cherry tomato crates in the back.

‘Hi, do you speak English?’ he asked with his most innocent smile.

‘Cosa?’ the driver replied.

‘Aaaaah…’ he had a momentary flashback of himself as a child sitting on a couch watching MacGyver on Rai Uno, he felt a lift to his spirits as he racked his brain for the words. ‘Parli Inglese?’

‘Inglese, no, non parlo Inglese. Non ho frequentato molto la scuola… Qui siamo in Italia, bello! Dove vuole andare?’ The driver spoke fast, each syllable exposing more of his teeth, culminating in a hearty bellow of laughter.

‘Yeah!’ Sam was shocked by the sheer volume of words and gestures that his mind had just received. Silence stretched out between them as shock grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and shook him to reality. He felt utterly helpless.

Recognizing defeat in Sam’s eyes the driver took pity and extended a lifeline. ‘Andare… machina… vrum vrum? Dove?’ painting the words with fingers through the air.

‘Aaaaa, Pisa, andare a Pisa?’ said Sam shyly.

‘Pisa? Io mi fermo a San Giuliano Terme, vicino a Pisa. Salga in macchina, ci penso io a come fare.’ He accompanied the words with a series of universal gestures, giving Sam’s brain enough space to translate the whole message. To the driver, Sam looked gassy all of a sudden.

He jumped in the back of the truck, amidst the tomato crates, and the driver opened up the window behind him allowing for further communication as he set out.

‘Io sono Franco’ he said gesturing towards himself.

‘Sam! Piacere!’the cogs where at full throttle now.

Franco wore a satisfied smile.‘Cosa cerchi a Pisa, Sam?’ the last was voiced gingerly, as if afraid to not break the link they had just established.

‘Il amore!’

‘L’amore, fa sempre bene cercare l’amore!’

They didn’t speak much after that, each falling into their own understanding of this age old search. At one point Sam got out a small notepad, the one he’d used to plan his schedule, and started writing down in it.

Before leaving Bucharest, yesterday morning, I told myself that this was going to be one of the greatest adventures I’d ever embark on. It was to be for the sake of the noblest of purposes: love, l’amore as the Italians call it. I wasn’t far from the truth.

It seemed pretty straight forward at first and as I embarked on the bus I could already feel Sonia’s sweet embrace, her rosy lips pressed against mine. The plan was simple, take the shuttle bus from Bucharest to Firenze, once I got there I would either take a bus or train to Pisa. Thursday morning I would catch the plane to Ibiza and from there on out it would be smooth sailing. I would reach Formentera just in time for the festival and just in time to shatter weasel face’s petty love schemes.

Funny how adventure finds you if you go out searching for it. I met two guys on the bus, John and Vlad. They said they were returning to Firenze for work after a trip back home. They seemed pretty nice, casual, hard working. I didn’t find them to be suspicious at all, but it seems I’m not as great judge of character as I figured myself to be.

Once we were past Bologna they got pretty chatty and at one point took out a packet of biscuits. They offered me some as well, they’d been eating them the whole way down so I didn’t think twice about it. Next thing I know, I can’t focus anymore and my speech got slurred. I got up from where I sat and took my backpack with me. I knew something was wrong, too bad I had to wake up on a bench in Sasso Marconi to know for sure. They were kind enough to leave me my phone and I had pocketed away what little cash I had in my coat before fading out.

I guess they weren’t completely heartless and the quest for love is more of an adventure than I actually had wished for.

I was lucky enough to get picked up by Franco, after several hours of waiting on the side of the road, he looks like a farmer or something. He’s going to take me close to Pisa and from there on maybe I’ll be more fortunate. That’s if I don’t end up in a ditch somewhere.

Franco was whistling to himself by now and from where Sam was sitting he seemed as harmless as the tomatoes he was carrying. He allowed himself to relax and took in his surroundings. If it were to be an adventure he would surely play the part.

Several hours later they were in San Giuliano Terme and Franco was talking to what looked to be a friend of his, trying to enlist his help to get Sam to Pisa. Sam had given up trying to follow their conversation after the first few seconds of ridiculous hand movements and high pitched words and was now fascinated by the delicate dismantling of a beetle and the throng of ants that did it.

The hand on his shoulder startled him and as he turned he found Franco’s friend staring sheepishly at him.

‘Allora, sei tu il ragazzo che sta cercando l’amore?! Andiamo. Mi chiamo Mario!’

‘Grazie! Sam!’ and waved Franco goodbye.

………………

The ferry was sending out wavelets as it sped towards Formentera. The ever shrinking sight of it was gripping his heart and when the first wave hit the dock, chills ran down his back. He felt crushed.

‘I told you it’s too late to catch it.’ the smug face looking back at him from behind the counter made him want to lash out.

‘Can I have my money back, please?’ pleaded Sam.

‘Sorry, no refunds! You can use that ticket tomorrow morning though.’ and slid the pane between them with a thump.

Tomorrow morning was a million miles away.

He switched his phone on and the ‘no service’ message rang hollow in him. Furthermore, what little charge the phone shill had after his tribulations at the Pisa International Airport didn’t soothe him either. He unconciously opened the message from Andrew again, it was the 13th time now. It read:

Dude, you still alive? Hurry up and get here, Matt’s been making googly eyes at Sonia since we got here and she doesn’t seem too bothered about it either. P.S. If you’re dead, I’m keeping the cat.

The sun was setting and a gentle breeze made itself felt from the sea. The island was blazing up in a multitude of colors as they beat to the various sounds. Somewhere to the left he heard boat engines as yachts were coming alive all over. Relief washed over him as hope sprang anew, some of them might be going to the festival.

It was the forth boat and his optimism was starting to wane.

‘You guys going to the festival?’ he asked.

‘What’s it to you, brother?’ came a gruff reply.

‘I need to get there tonight! Are you by any chance heading there?’ the journey had started to take its toll and the prospect of witty banter didn’t look so appealing to him anymore.

‘We all need to get somewhere, brother. What’s so important about tonight?’ answered another voice.

‘Please, I’ve been on the road for the past three days. I need to get to the festival on Formentera tonight, please!!! I only have my phone but I’ll give it to you if you give me a lift there.’ voice trembling he could almost feel his frustration well up at the corners of his eyes. He’d be damned if he’d give them the satisfaction.

‘Chill, man! We’re just messing with you, we don’t want your crappy ass phone. Here, have a beer, we’ll take you with us to the festival.’ the first voice answered back.

‘Thank you! Thank you!’

The journey to the island was short and thirty minutes later he was walking midst the crowds gathered there. His head sagged but the energy of the people washed over him, imbuing him with renewed strength. He could feel victory close at hand and as if the weight had unlocked something primeval within him, he set off on the prowl.

It didn’t take long for him to find his pray, they were gathered around a table laughing the night away. Andrew was fidgeting nervously with his phone, but aside from him nobody seemed the least bit discouraged by his absence. Sonia and Matt especially, who where having a hard time keeping away from each other.

Suddenly the world felt off tilt, narrower somehow, smaller and bleaker.

He felt something squeeze his right palm and as he turned he saw the traveling agent that had helped them with the booking. She smiled invitingly and said:

‘You’re late!’