Notoriously Beautiful

6

Planning A Day At The Beach

Simona teaches me how to sow, under through, over through, repeat. It's not that hard. Of course mine and Simonas fabrics don't look sewed the same, but I learned something. I thought I was going to learn how to use the machine, but I was wrong. When we are done, I thank Simona, and I tell her, if there was anything I could give her in return for teaching me. She says no, she tells me that was silly. Teaching me how to sow was my welcoming present. How kind. Now I have to think of a sweet thing to give her, but before any of that, I want to go to the beach. So I ask Simona if she wanted to come the following day with me,
"I haven't gone to the beach yet, and it's the middle of summer! Would you like to meet each other at Spiaggia di Alì Terme Beach tomorrow," I ask.
"Yes, I would love to, but on Saturdays and Sundays I close the shop at 3:30pm. I'm sure you would want to go earlier than that," she sighs..
"No, no, I don't like going when the sun is at full power. I get sunburned fairly easily. I like going in the afternoon," I say.
"Alright then," she answers..
I ask her aunt Lina if she wanted to come as well, she says that she was too old to go to the beach. I tell her that was non sense but ultimately, I think she is tired. I think that's why she doesn't want to come, but she is very nice.
I leave the shop, and head home to the villa, looking through all the little stores as I walk. There aren't many, and they are mixed in between apartment buildings. It was strange, not like in New York.
As I get closer to the villa, I see a shadow standing outside the gate. Then I realize that shadow was Marco.
"Hey," I say, suddenly. He looks frightened, I think I snuck up on him too fast.
"Ciao, bella," he says, greeting me.
"What are you doing here, Marco?" I ask, finger on chin.
He looks pensive, like he is thinking about telling the truth, or telling a lie.
"I was here to ask you if you wanted to go to the beach," he says.
I'm not sure what to say. Really if I think about it hard enough, I don't know this guy at all. He could be crazy, or worse a killer or something improbable.
"Well, tomorrow I'm going to the beach with Simona, she's the lady who owns the sewing shop a few blocks down. We can all go together, if you want," I say. I shouldn't have asked him that, I'm sure he wouldn't want to go to the beach with a stranger, but then I thought about it, well I'm a stranger as well.
"Simona?" He gaspes in disbelief.
"Yes?" I say, confused.
"That's so crazy, I met Simona the other day because I needed her to fix my suit. How do you know Simona?" He says.
"Wow, that's so strange," I said taking it in.
"Simona told me she was fixing a suit for Marco, but I didn't know it was you. She told me that there were so many people with that name that it was probably impossible for it to be you," I say staring at him.
He looks confused,
"It's a small town," he laughs.
"Your right," I say laughing with him. It's true.
"Tell you what, I'll come with you and Simona, if I can bring my friend Tommaso," he negotiates.
I'm so glad he makes that suggestion because I was starting to think about how awkward it could be if it was just us three.
"Yeah, definitely! We want to go around 3:30 because Simona closes the shop at that time," I say.
"3:30? We can go a little eariler, and meet Simona when she can come," he looks mischievous, and I wonder why.
"Uh, I guess. What time did you want to go?" I ask.
"2:30, is 2:30 good? Because if it's not, that's alright. It's not a big deal. Not because I don't think going somewhere with you is not a big deal or anything. It's just, you know I don't want to sound like you have to come, because clearly you don't, you are your own person and everything," he says, going on on his rant.
He puts one of his hands behind his neck, and blushes. He doesn't strike me as the nervous type, but now I know I was wrong to think otherwise.
"2:00 is fine," I laugh, I think I might have just shoved him a little by accident.
"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow bella," and with that he fades away as we walk in different directions.
He always calls me bella. In New York that's a nickname for Isabella, but here, it means pretty. My nonna always called me bella. Bella come here, she'd say. This whole place reminds me of her. I feel so close to her. It's like Marco said. I feel as if there is only a fog between the realm of the living and the dead. The only difference was my nonna was in the peaceful realm, and I, well I'm in the realm where things can be peaceful. I put the emphasis on can, because it's not always, but that's okay. It's all okay.
I'll see her one day. When I pass through the fog. It will be a good day. I know it.
All this happened on just one Friday afternoon, the whole planning a day at the beach thing. I realize I haven't seen my mom around a lot. I wonder where she is, as I unlock the front door, she's probably shopping, duh.
"Boo".
Woah, I see my mom pop up out of nowhere. Real mature mom, that was good. Surprisingly she actually scared me, strange.
"Was that taxi guy, again!" She asks me in disbelief.
"Yes it was," I say, ripping the water bottle she has, out of her hands.
"Wow, that kid really likes you," she sneers, she seems so drunk. Where has she been?
"Alright ma, I think you need to sit down for a little. Where have you been? I've barely seen you today. I ate breakfast alone,"I say.
"Oh, I was just around, with the gang, my hip crew," she says practically falling on me, her speaking is slurred.
"Okay ma, take it easy. Get some rest, we'll talk about this tomorrow morning young lady," I kid around but at the same time I don't, my mom can't get drunk. She's my mom, that's weird.