Rosato

ii.

          I kept a tight clutch onto my bags, teeth sunken into my bottom lip as I looked for my uncle. Something about me must have screamed foreigner because I got a few questionable looks from just about everyone as they passed by. Then again, I was the only lost one, and I had been standing there for a while. It was an odd feeling; I had gotten enough stares to make me want to walk around and pretend I knew where I was going, but I didn't want to move suddenly and then grab attention again.

          That was probably what anxiety felt like.

           I kicked the back of my suitcases slightly and drug them as I made a few small steps, slowly gaining the pace of everyone around me. The bags rolled along with me, their wheels clicking over the tiles they passed over.

         It was hard to say for sure I knew what to do. I had assumed he would have picked me up immediately from there, out of courtesy. Then again, this did seem like a spur of the moment plan, and if I had to drop everything and babysit someone for about two years at random I wouldn't be too eager.

          I looked to my left, finally spotting something after about ten minutes of aimlessly wandering around. There in flawless script read my name on a small poster in the hands of a middle aged man.

          Claudia Milano.

          That wasn't my uncle, but I didn't see any other signs that I was being looked for, so I of course made my way over.

          His eyes connected with mine, and then over my features. I guess I met his standards; the second I came within ten feet of him he spoke, "Is this is your name?"

          He was a native, his accent made it clear.

          I nodded, a smile tugging at my lips in the process, "Yes, yes it is."

          His head bobbed in reassurance as he went on, "Your uncle sends his apologies, he was occupied with his work-- I've been asked to take you to your new home."

          I wanted to encourage him to speak in Italian, just by listening to him I could tell he was forcing out the English. Ah well, he probably got paid to stress a little.

          "Alright..." I clenched my bags again, only to have them taken away by him. He threw away the sign with my name and began to walk outside.

          "Follow me." Without much complaint I went along, it wasn't like I had much of a choice. While he walked, I took that chance to look at him-- from his brown neatly parted hair to his crisp linen suit. His face was trustworthy and his voice gave off the same impression. He tucked my luggage into the trunk of the silver car and opened the door for me with such grace that I assumed it to be ritualistic for him.

          Trying to make any form of small talk was almost like interrupting him while working, so I stayed silent for the ride.

          As we drove, the sun set. The colors soaked up the sky, dying out each previous ray, first from blue to orange, orange to red and red to purple. The purple was soon soaked up by black, and the clouds were consumed by the stars. My honey eyes were glued to the sunroof and the palette the sky had laid out. Nature's performance was soon interrupted however by the pace of the car slowing down. I looked straight ahead through the windows, watching as the driver pulled into the courtyard of a mediterranean looking home.

          I almost didn't believe this was my uncle's home.

          The courtyard itself was decorated with palm trees and flowers and even the stones that coated the ground were beautiful. It was a different beautiful than my own home in New York, this home had culture. From the ground we drove on to shingles on the roof there was character. This felt like home.

          The driver opened my door again, and after I got out he ushered for a young woman to drive the car into the third garage.

          Ahem.

          I shut my mouth, cheeks suddenly reddening as I realized it was open. Regaining my composure I looked back to him, "Si?"

          "Would you like me to show you to your room?" This was asked of me in fluid Italian. I gave him a nod in response, and followed with a spring of confidence in my step.

          Hopefully I wouldn't embarrass myself again.