Gianluca Ginoble and I

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

*Naomi’s point of View

 

          When I got home, the three boys were in the living room, gathered around the phone, which was on speaker. The person on the line was speaking in Italian.

          I went up behind Gianluca, who was sitting on the chest next to the couch, and hugged him from behind. He quietly kissed my cheek, and then returned to the conversation.

          I sat on the couch next to Ignazio, who spoke in rapid Italian and then reached out to hang up the phone.

          “What was that?” I asked.

          “Since we’re back in Italy, the company wants us to do a photo shoot,” Piero explained.

          “With the grapevines, the mountains…” Ignazio said.

          “It’s really short notice, but there are some good photographers in town, so we’re doing it this evening. Hopefully it won’t take too long,” Gianluca explained. “You can come with us and watch if you want, but you’ll probably be bored.”

          Piero nodded vigorously, “You are free to take my place in the photo shoot, Naomi!”

          I laughed, and he said, “They’ll make us dress up and then drag us through the countryside to take pictures.”

          “I’m assuming that you don’t like photo shoots?”

          He nodded, and slid his Beats over his ears.

          “Oh, Piero, if only you weren’t so handsome!” Ignazio said forlornly, dramatically clenching his hands into fists, and Piero shoved him.

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          So in the evening, just before it started to get dark, the three boys got dressed up in their suits and gathered in Gianluca’s living room. I sat at the bottom of the stairs and watched some photographers and a woman come in to put some makeup on them and fix their hair a little.

          Then they left, and Gianluca came over to hug me.

          “I suppose you’re going for a walk, Naomi?”

          I nodded.

          He kissed me, and then whispered in my ear, “Be careful.”

          I nodded, and then watched them go out into the photographer’s car.

          I went upstairs to put on my tennis shoes, and to put my hair into a ponytail, then I skipped down the stairs and set off toward the marketplace, deciding to stay on the pathways and sidewalks instead of going into a forest or to the beach.

          It was a beautiful night, calm and warm.

          I walked leisurely through the emptying marketplace, nodding at the tired venders, and walked down a lonely cobbled street, admiring the old looking houses.

          I hummed “Beautiful Day” by Il Volo as I walked, and turned to walk down another street of beautiful, quiet houses.

I heard a commotion in the distance, faint screaming and crying, and I ran down the street and around the corner following the sound. When I reached the source of the commotion, I froze in horror.

          My hands went to my mouth and suddenly, I was five years old again, watching my neighbor’s houses burn to the ground.

          A crowd of people were gathered in front of a burning cottage, yelling in Italian and shouting into their phones. There were no signs of firefighters, at least not yet. Several men were tending to a battered-looking woman on the ground, who looked as if she had just crawled from the fire. The crackling sounds were loud, and the roof sagged a little, confirming that it would soon collapse. A group of women were huddled together, crying and screaming, as a group of men restrained another man who was desperately fighting to get at the house.