Books, Shoes, and Internet Cafes

It was another new place. More new faces, new scenery, new buildings, new schools. This time was different. It was completely different. This time Mom wasn't coming with us. Neither was my brother Joshua. It was just Dad and I, once again moving across the world to another new country. Rome, Italy to be exact. It was the most historic place in the entire world that I could think of. More history happened here that was memorable, any other place would seem like a sand stormed desert to this oasis. Yet, the history seemed unimportant. Right now I was focusing on the future.



"Brielle," my father said softly, "come look out the window." I put down my shirt I had been folding. The hotel room was nice, but I wanted to find a way to tell my father that I didn't want to stay in a hotel forever. We'd been here for three months now. There were two beds in the room, one bathroom that was so much unlike the American ones back home that you realize now why the Europeans didn't shower much. The shower was so small that when you closed the door and turned around you literally didn't walk any further. That was it. The walls were covered in some bumpy plastic that wasn't exactly comfortable on your feet, but it got the job done without sliding.



I stepped away from the window. I wanted to go outside again and explore the city some more. Perhaps go further than three blocks from the hotel. Maybe even walk to The Vatican and see what it was all about. There was a lot of people here, and most of them didn't mind it if you randomly stopped in the middle of the walk way to stare at the beautiful structure that framed all of Rome. For the most part they were very patient people, much unlike the French and big American towns. I turned around and my father was sitting at the desk facing the window. He was running both hands through his hair as he stared down at the Bible in front of him. I couldn't tell if it was written in Italian or if it was the one he carried with him everywhere he went, I just knew that at this moment nothing would be able to distract him. I grabbed my messenger bag, slung it over my shoulder, and walked to the door. I grabbed the handle and looked over my shoulder. He was still sitting there at the desk. Leg bouncing and finger trailing across the page. I turned around a walked out. I took the stairs down to the front desk.

"Ciao," I called to Leo. He was the owner, operator, and maintenance worker of the entire hotel. That was what I liked about this place. Small business owners thrived here.

"Hello" he replied. His smile brought wrinkles to his face. "You're Italian is starting to become more natural." I laughed.

"Hardly."

"Where are you off to today? Do you want company?" he asked. I knew he would offer his son's services. I also knew that if I knew what was good for me I wouldn't accept. His son looked up from lounging on the couch in the waiting room. When I turned to look in his direction he put his magazine back up in front of his face and I turned back to Leo.

"I'm actually off to go see The Vatican today. I'll be OK alone. It'll be cheaper," I laughed as I handed him my room key. "I do need a map though." Leo shuffled through his papers mumbling in Italian. I heard his son sigh. Leo continued speaking faster moving more papers around stacking and unstacking them. I started to feel uncomfortable. I think Leo was trying to obligate his son into escorting me to The Vatican. Alessandro finally sat up and put his magazine down.

"No need for a map," he said, "I'll take you."

"Oh no I'll be fine-"

"No no no, Brielle, Alessandro will show you," Leo interrupted. He waved his hands toward the door as he came around the desk. He grabbed my hand and his son's forcing them together with his hands on top and bottom, walking us to the door.

"OK, thank you Leo," I said walking out the door first, still holding Alessandro's hand. We kept walking, finally turning the corner away from the sight of the door where Leo was still standing. Immediately Alessandro dropped my hand. My cheeks flushed, "Alessandro you really don't have to join me, your Dad isn't looking anymore I'll be fine on my own."

"It's fine, I have things to do anyway," he said pulling a pack of gum from his pockets. He offered me a piece and I declined. We walked in silence for a while. We passed by windows filled with things from books, to shoes, and Internet cafes. I hadn't realized my pace had slowed as I ran my fingers over the street vendors fabrics watching my pale hand pass by all the bright colors. Suddenly I stopped, there in front of me, was a picture in a silver frame. It was of a little girl about seven years old with her mother. The little girl sat on the swing looking up into her mother's face. The woman hands were on the rope pushing the swing forward so that her face would be close to her daughters. The pain I felt in my heart was unreal. I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of my tears flow down my face. Four months was not enough to get over the loss of my mother's life. She was my best friend, and God had taken her from me.