Micah stifled a yawn as he listened to Trent converse in Italian with their host family, Gustavo and Caterina Gennaro. Sitting in the back seat of the Fiat Sedici, the European equivalent to the American SUV, he gazed out his window. Driving on the left side of the road added to the novelty as they passed miles of fields, rolling green pastures, old barns, and wooden fences. Exhausted from the long flight over, Micah was relieved when buildings began emerging. They were coming into the city now. Trent informed him many of these buildings dated back to the Renaissance. Crowds of people were passing between cafés, open-air piazzas, shops, and ancient ruins. From studying maps, Micah knew their host family lived northwest of St. Stephen’s High School, and a few miles from the Vatican.
I can’t believe I’m here, he thought, stretching.
Glancing up, he met Gustavo’s mud-brown eyes in the rearview mirror. Micah guessed the Gennaros were both in their seventies. He liked how they resembled one another; Gustavo was stockier, but they shared the same long nose, olive skin, and gray hair.
Caterina was speaking. “Domani essendo domenica, andiamo a visitare la piazza di San Pietro e la Basilica. Tutte e due sono davvero belle.”
He glanced at Trent. Since Micah’s dad spent a few summers in Italy growing up, he grew up hearing sporadic Italian in his home. Even with taking Italian his freshman and sophomore years, Micah hadn’t picked up on the language at all.
Trent rolled his eyes at him. “They want to take us sightseeing tomorrow, see St. Peter’s Square, the Basilica.” Trent gave him an appraising look. “You’re going to choke at school, aren’t you?”
“Probably.”
Gustavo cleared his throat. “And what do you think of our city, Micah?”
“It’s amazing. So you speak English?”
“Of course,” Caterina said. “We wanted to hear your Italian. The program wants us to speak to you in our native tongue, but we have found many students come understanding very little of what we are saying. I am very impressed with you, Trent.”
“Well, since Italian’s the language of love, I studied hard,” Trent said with all seriousness. Both Gustavo and Caterina chuckled.
“If you are looking for love, Trent, you have come to the right place. This is the city of romance.” Caterina gestured out the window as they passed another outdoor café.
Doubt I’m here for love, Micah thought.
“We are getting close now,” Gustavo said as they turned down a small road.
“Have you been a host family before?” Micah asked.
“Oh yes,” Caterina answered. “We have been doing this for what, thirty years now, is it?”
“Yes, thirty years I believe,” Gustavo confirmed.
“Long time,” Trent murmured.
Caterina and Gustavo exchanged a glance.
“Yes, it is,” Caterina answered. Micah caught Gustavo’s eyes peering at him again.
“That is the Piazza Mazzini,” Caterina said, pointing out her window. They were passing an open courtyard with a large fountain spraying water in several different directions. “We live in the Prati district and here’s our apartment building.”
The 19th century building had been restored, Caterina informed them, as they parked in the parking garage. They gathered their suitcases and followed the couple into the main lobby. Marble floors, pale yellow walls with white trim and baseboards, and electric candles gave the building an antique feel. They entered a black cage and rode up the elevator.
On the third floor, they stopped. Gustavo fished his keys out of his pocket. “Here we are.”
The tour didn’t last long and Micah was grateful to be directed to his room. It shared a Jack and Jill bathroom with Trent’s. He collapsed on the queen-sized bed, not bothering to kick off his shoes. He stared at the bright blue paint on the wall, the white trim standing out. Turning onto his side, he scanned the room: a wooden desk, empty bookshelf, and an over-stuffed chaise with bright yellow pillows thrown on it. No woman in red.
“Are you hungry?” Caterina asked, poking her head in the open door.
“Yeah,” Micah said, feeling his stomach complain.
Since it was their first meal together, Caterina wanted to eat in the dining room. Micah had a feeling most other meals would be eaten in the kitchen breakfast nook.
“Che buono,” Trent said, stuffing a spoonful of manicotti into his mouth.
“Grazie,” Caterina replied.
Micah assumed Trent had told her the food was good and she had said thank you. Starting school on Monday did not appeal to him anymore.
He glanced up halfway through the meal to see Caterina studying him with a thoughtful expression. He thought maybe he was imagining it until he caught her twice more gazing at him, with a look of concentration. Gustavo kept shooting Caterina questioning glances, at which Caterina shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head slightly. Trent was oblivious and left the room for more food.
“Micah,” Caterina said slowly, “you are very familiar to me. Has any of your family been to Rome before?”
So that’s it, he decided, relieved to know the reason behind all the staring. “My dad’s come to Rome before. I look a lot like him, maybe you met him somehow,” he offered.
“No,” she paused, “I do not think so. I doubt I would have remembered his face for that long. Maybe you look like one of our students from before. That must be it,” she said, answering her own question.
“Yeah, maybe,” he agreed. Trent returned and the conversation shifted into Italian, leaving him lost.
Returning to their rooms later, Micah said to Trent, “You’ve got the Italian thing down.”
“Heck, yeah. Oh Micah, you have so much to learn about the opposite sex,” Trent said with mock exasperation. “What do you think these fine young Italian girls will find irresistible? I know you think it’s my body, and I know it’s fine, or maybe you think it’s my hair, which I admit is appealing, too, but no, when they see this fine-looking American stud come to school and speak their language, they will be on me like white on rice.” Trent flicked his wrist, making his fingers snap together.
“I should’ve known it had to do with girls.”
“Everything has to do with girls, Micah! When are you going to realize that? Girls are what make my world go round. Why else would I get out of bed? My parents think I’m here for the language and the experience. Well, I am—the experience of making out with hot Italian chicks. And you should be, too,” Trent said, poking his finger in Micah’s direction, accentuating his words like a parent reprimanding a child.
Micah snorted back at him.
Hoping the woman in red would appear to him, Micah was sorely disappointed that night. Although he enjoyed seeing St. Peter’s Square and the Basilica the next day, he was partially listening to Caterina saying the church was over five-hundred years old, with many famous artists contributing to its beauty. She pointed out Fontana’s fountains in the square, Bernini’s colonnade, and Michelangelo’s Pieta. Gazing up at the sculpture of Mary and her slain son, Micah couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing something.
Staring at the gigantic baldachin, a bronze canopy that stood high above them, resting on four ornate pillars, Micah’s eyes were drawn to the four angels resting on the corners. Is the woman in red an angel like these? he wondered. He was again disappointed when she did not appear that night.
I can’t believe over a week has passed and she hasn’t come once, Micah fumed. The school week hadn’t gone bad exactly, Trent had already made friends for the both of them, but Micah wasn’t feeling very social. With St. Stephen’s being a boarding school with many of the students living on campus, they rode the city bus in, since the metro didn’t have a stop near the school. The campus was old and beautiful, with a large courtyard in the middle and classrooms forming a square around it.
Trent had already met a pretty brunette named Gianna, and like a good cousin, had tried to set Micah up with her friend, Viola. It wasn’t that Viola was unattractiv
e. She was actually quite beautiful with light brown hair and blue-green eyes. It was just Micah was too distracted by his vision-less night.
Funny, I would’ve killed to stop seeing things back home but now…
Trent was whistling as he waltzed into the bathroom, and then seeing Micah sitting on the chaise, stepped into the room.
“I couldn’t help but notice your new shade of lipstick. Nice,” Micah remarked, knowing exactly what Trent had been doing at the school dance he’d dragged Micah to earlier that night.
“Hey, at least I got a new shade. Don’t hate me because you were too lame to get some yourself. Viola was practically begging for a little smooch goodnight. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I just like to take my time.” Yeah, like longer than five days.
“Naw, I think you’re still moping over Megan,” Trent said, walking back into their shared bathroom, retrieving his toothbrush.
“No way, dude.”
Trent turned, “Ok, then Eden. I know she’s got the hots for you.”
Micah didn’t answer, but stood up instead. For some reason hearing Eden’s name made him feel homesick.
Entering the bathroom, he picked up his toothbrush. “You’re off your rocker; we’re just friends.”
Trent snorted. “I think she’s hot. I love her glasses and braces. Ow!” he howled, rubbing his arm where Micah punched him. “Dude! I’m just teasing. She really is hot though.”
Seeing Micah’s face, Trent shrugged. “Ok, ok, mister touchy. I didn’t know you were such a girl.”
Micah turned his electric toothbrush on, drowning out his cousin. Secretly, he wondered why he got upset. Because I care about her and Trent’s making fun, that’s why.
It was late and he was exhausted. Lying on his back, hands tucked behind his head, he closed his eyes. The image of Eden tearing up when they parted flashed through his mind. He was surprised it made his chest constrict again. The wave of heat touched him before the light penetrated the back of his eyelids. He bolted up.
She’s here; she’s finally here.
Micah knew the woman in red was close and that should bring him some comfort, but he didn’t feel it. All of his senses were overloaded by the devastation before him. The smell of charred houses mingled with burnt flesh, all of his surroundings devoid of life and color, nothing but black ash left behind. The air was stagnant, no breeze to cool the heat from the midday sun or remove the stench. His footsteps sounded hollow crunching through the rubble. He felt desperate to find someone, anyone. He had to know something had survived, but there was nothing, not even rats to gnaw through the debris. He’d lost count of how many neighborhoods he’d sprinted through, now his pace was slow and labored. His foot caught on something, and he threw his arms out to steady himself. The idea of falling into the wreckage filled him with horror. He turned, spying what snagged him. Crouching down, he slowly lifted it up. Sadness flooded him. Brushing away the ash, he peered down at the small baby doll’s face. This had been a child’s toy, probably a little girl. A girl that’s gone. Buried in this...
Like being pulled from the bottom of a pool, the woman placed her hand on Micah’s shoulder, and the scene disappeared before him. He was panting now, bent over with his hands on his knees, clamping his jaw shut to keep the nausea in check, as well as his emotions. It didn’t help—his head was still spinning.
“What was that?” he gasped between breaths. She didn’t say anything. Slowly, he straightened, gazing at her. Pain etched the lines around her eyes, her lips turned down.
“Why did I see that?” He hoped there was a reason for that nightmare.
Her head tilted to the side and her mouth opened. He eagerly awaited her words, but as her lips formed them, no sound came out.
“I can’t hear you,” he blurted.
She nodded and continued speaking nonetheless.
He stepped closer. “I still can’t understand—”
“Micah!” Trent’s voice boomed out from the other side of the bathroom door. Micah jumped and spun around. Trent’s up? It’s probably three am.
“What the banana balls are you doing in there?” Trent growled through the wood. The woman disappeared.
Frustrated by her short visit, Micah threw the door open and Trent barged in. Trent surveyed the room and then stared at him. “Who were you talking to?”
“No one,” he responded, surprised Trent could’ve heard him through the closed bathroom doors. He hadn’t spoken loudly, or that much, and he knew his cousin was a pretty sound sleeper.
“Whatever. I heard you talking to a girl. Were you talking online with someone or something?”
Micah’s body stiffened. “How did you know I was talking to a girl?”
“Ha! I knew it! Who is she? Megan?” Trent grinned.
“How’d you know, Trent?” He took a step towards his cousin, who was now checking out his closet. Does he think I hid someone in there?
Trent turned around and snickered. “Dude, what were you doing online? Do I need to talk to your parents?”
“Trent, I wasn’t on my computer. Tell me how you knew it was a girl!” Micah shouted, annoyed his cousin was ignoring his question.
Trent cocked an eyebrow at Micah and then shrugged. “I heard her, ok, loud and clear. So loud I’m beginning to wonder if you somehow snuck Viola in here.” Trent dropped down and peered under Micah’s bed, calling, “Viola, are you in there?”
If it had been any other time, Micah would’ve laughed at him, but his mind was buzzing. Trent heard her?
“What did she say?” he demanded, but Trent was peeling his covers down saying, “Viola, come out, come out, wherever you are.”
“Trent.” Micah’s tone was firm. His cousin stopped chuckling and stared at him. “I need to know what you heard. What did the girl say?”
“Am I on crazy pills here or are you going to tell me what’s going on here? Who is she?” Trent retorted.
He struggled to respond. He supposed it was as good of a time as any to tell Trent he saw ghosts or angels, or whatever the woman in red was.
Trent huffed impatiently. “Fine, I’m too tired for this. She said something like you did the right thing coming here, and he’ll hear me,” he paused, Micah hanging on his every word, “and it’s time to study. You’re supposed to live with the Gennaros. They’ll show you what to study.” Trent stopped talking and threw his hands on his hips, waiting.
So the Gennaros are why I’m here, Micah thought. I need to talk to them. But I guess it’ll have to wait until morning.
“Che cavolo,” Trent muttered, bringing Micah back to present.
“Thanks, Trent,” Micah breathed out, his shoulders relaxing.
Trent eyed him suspiciously. “If this happens again, you’re going to talk, got it? I can’t have you turning into a nutcase while we’re here. You will freak out the ladies. Now I, for one, am going back into my room to think about Gianna’s soft lips on mine.” Trent left, mumbling, “Poor kid’s losing it. I hope it’s not contagious.”