Chapter Fifteen

Five months later

March – Spring Break

I’D SPENT THE LAST FOUR MONTHS TRYING TO LEARN conversational Italian without much luck; all my intermediate Spanish from my college days kept creeping in. Piero let me sit in on his Italian 101 class whenever I wanted. He had a glorious accent, which, I noticed, distracted many of his female students and one of the males who was gay. They all swooned while he conjugated verbs pertaining to dining out. (“What can I bring you?” “Do you have any wine?” “I want to eat spaghetti and meatballs.”) He was also very handsome and looked a little like Hugh Jackman with jet-black hair. One day, to my surprise, I caught myself thinking about him conjugating verbs with his shirt off.

I decided it was imperative to learn some key phrases: “Where’s the bathroom?” “Where can I buy bottled water?” “No wine, please—it makes me ill.” “I am trying to find my hotel, Ecco Roma.” And “On behalf of my country, I apologize for Starbucks.”

Miranda told me to buy cheap cotton underwear and throw them out every day so I wouldn’t have to worry about going through customs with a suitcase full of dirty panties on the way home. I packed all of my jeans and Sam’s shirts and sweaters and his aviator jacket—I had taken to wearing his clothes on a regular basis. It killed me to have to wash them; I didn’t want to lose the smell of him. Buy shoes once I’m there, Miranda said. Shoes and a leather jacket.

Melody tried to ease my mind about flying with no success. The furthest I had ever flown was to San Francisco for a conference, and that was three years ago. I nearly hyperventilated when the plane hit some turbulence. Even Sam’s holding my hand and steady voice were not enough to comfort me. Since then, I insisted on attending conferences via train if the driving distance was too far. For our honeymoon, Sam and I had driven up to Canada. On the way home we were ready to kill each other. Funny, I had forgotten about that. Fourteen hours in the car was enough for both of us to seriously consider getting an annulment.

Melody gave me a mediation CD, a homeopathic remedy, and mantras to silently recite on the plane. I bought two packs of Dramamine, two packs of gum, and downloaded all of my Nat King Cole CDs, Italian language tutorials, and the meditation into my iPod. I also wrote my will on my laptop, but didn’t get it notarized. At first, in a bout of silliness, I left everything to the cat. Then I left it all to my mother with instructions to let her sort it out.

Miranda drove me to Logan airport. Piero accompanied us and gave me a list of places to go as well as a couple of letters to deliver for him. He also kissed me on both cheeks which, again to my surprise, sent a quick flash of heat up my spine. Miranda hugged me. Maggie had called the night before to wish me well.

“I wish you were going with me,” I practically whimpered.

“You’ll be fine. You need to do this on your own.”

I took two Dramamine thirty minutes before my flight was called. As I walked through the corridor to the plane, my knees weakened with panic. Just as I stepped onto the plane, I froze.

“Are you okay, Miss?” the flight attendant asked. He was an effeminate man named Stefano. “My goodness, you’re white as a sheet.”

“Oh God, I can’t do this,” I said. I’m going to pass out, I just know it. I wasn’t sure if I said this aloud or not.

“First time flying?” he asked.

“Might as well be.”

Stefano took me by the arm and led me to first class and another flight attendant. Apparently Sam had pulled out all the stops when he booked the original trip—first class all the way. (The travel agency told me where he had booked our hotel stay and my cousin, the Italian teacher, called to explain the situation. The hotel manager was so moved by the story that he not only rebooked the reservation, but comp’ed four out of the seven days—una storia d’amore—a love story, he said.) The other attendant was a woman named Judy. Stefano told her I needed “extra care.” She asked me if I wanted a drink. God, how I wished I drank at that moment.

“No thanks, but if you could get someone to hit me with a blunt object, I would appreciate it.”

She called me “honey” and assured me that I’d be okay. I took out my iPod and listened to the meditation that Melody gave me.

I am at peace with the plane… I am at peace with the plane… I am at peace with the plane…

Bullshit…Bullshit…Bullshit…

I completely trust the flow of the universe… I completely trust the flow of the universe… I completely trust the flow of the universe…

I want to see the pilot’s credentials… I want to see the pilot’s credentials…I want to see the pilot’s credentials…

The engines revved.

I took out Sam’s picture, one of him outside of FenwayPark, before a Yankees-Red Sox game. The Sox had lost that day. He was much happier in the picture. He sported a devilish grin underneath his faded blue, well-worn Boston cap. I could almost hear him speak to me now: “Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I’ll land the plane if anything goes wrong. I’ve watched sitcoms—it’s easy.” His grin comforted me.

As the plane took off, I made the passenger sitting next to me hold my hand until he assured me that we were safe and politely mentioned that he wanted to read his book. Apparently he’d had enough of Crazy Lady and her vice grip. Stefano promised that either he or Judy would check on me regularly, which they did. The movie was a Tom Hanks film—not Cast Away, thank God. When the meal was served, I tried to eat. Then I took a second dose of Dramamine and managed to fall asleep with an Italian language tutorial crooning me on my iPod. Il mio nome e Giovanni. Da dove sei venuto?... My name is Giovanni. Where are you from?

By landing time, Stefano and another passenger sat on either side of me, holding my hands. When I exited the plane, the same knee-weakening feeling overcame me.

“You’re going to be fine, honey,” said Judy.

“Don’t drink the water unless it’s bottled,” said Stefano.

“Gucci,” said the passenger. “Buy Gucci.”

A driver who spoke broken English met me and took me to my hotel—Sam really had thought of everything. I took a deep, brave breath and stepped out of the airport and onto the bright, sunny streets of Rome. If only he had thought to live long enough to be here with me.