The in-flight meal is sausage and mash and I’m reminded of Roberto…
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It’s our last night in Italy. Derek has had his nightcap and is ready for bed. When I say I fancy another, anyone would think I’d suggested an orgy. “Who in their right mind would want to stay up drinking when it’s an early start in the morning?” Derek is the master of hyperbole—another has become a binge.
Our evenings have been ritualistic: half a bottle of wine with dinner followed by a walk around the cobbled streets of Malcesine before returning to our hotel for ‘the’ nightcap. One evening Derek let his hair down and had two. The next day he complained of a thick head and refused to do it again. The problem with Derek…one of the problems with Derek is his belief that whatever disagrees with him will naturally disagree with me.
I look around the candlelit tables and see couples, normal couples, talking in whispers, laughing, drinking. My mind is made up. ‘Early morning or not, I would like another drink,’ I tell him, testily.
‘Then you can have it on your own. I’m off to bed.’
I watch him disappear into the hotel without so much as a backward glance, and I’m suddenly overcome by a sense of giddiness. I feel as though I’ve been chained to a rock and someone has come along and released me. The sense of freedom is overwhelming. From my little table on the decking, I look out across Lake Garda at the twinkling lights between the recesses of black mountains and give an audible sigh. I think about the holiday, the splendour of Italy, and I imagine how much more magical it could have been with the right person. Take the opera. To sit in that vast arena in Verona and listen to some of the finest voices in Italy sent shivers down my spine. Not Derek’s because he wasn’t there. His ‘problem’ would not allow him to sit on a stone step for three hours even at the expense of missing the best-loved chorus in opera. So I went alone. Ah, Nabucco!
There were other disappointments. I wanted to take a trip to Venice, that most romantic of cities, but Derek reminded me we’d already been there once and to pay another visit would be nothing short of extravagance. Some things just wouldn’t be the same on one’s own so I didn’t make a fuss and went along with what Derek enjoyed most—criss-crossing the lake by ferry, occasionally stopping off at a picturesque resort for lunch and the briefest stroll. His other problem, swollen ankles, restricted perambulation, especially in the heat of the day.
Roberto breaks this train of thought as he steps over to my table with a glass of red wine and takes Derek’s empty tumbler. He’s been winking at me all week but I’ve played it cool and responded with no more than a coy look. Realising I’m on my own, he finds an excuse to speak to me. I’ve been waiting for this moment all week.
‘Would you like some peetza? I ‘ave a cancelled order.’
I look up into a pair of dark, smouldering eyes. He winks. ‘I am quite peckish,’ I tell him. Derek was running short of cash so we’d skimped on our evening meal. ‘Only what type is it, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘No, no. Eet’s funghi, pomodoro and salsiccia.’
I feel myself go limp at the words. The Italian accent is so romantic. ‘What’s salsiccia?’
‘Sausage. Eet’s good.’
‘I’m partial to a bit of sausage,’ I say. He winks.
I eat the pizza and order another red wine. Be damned to Derek. I’m on holiday and it’s my last night. He owes it to me after keeping him in clean underpants and shirts all week. He never brings enough clothes with him.
The tables begin to empty as, arm in arm, smiling couples make their way to the hotel. Apart from the sound of water slapping against wooden stilts beneath the decking and the clinking of glasses as Roberto flits from table to table clearing debris, all is silent. I sip my wine and feel tears prick my eyes as I sit in a state of perfect happiness, my whole being in harmony with this beautiful night. I want this moment to last forever.
‘You are sad, no.’ Roberto is standing in front of me, an empty glass in each hand and a look of concern in his eyes.
‘On the contrary, Roberto. I’m happy, too happy.’
‘Maybe too much happy make you sad.’
I laugh. ‘Yes, something like that.’ I hesitate before asking, ‘Will you have a drink with me, Roberto?’
He glances around the empty tables, clicks his heels together and bows. ‘Si Senora. What you like me get you?’
I look at my empty glass but don’t fancy another red wine. I suddenly wave my hand in the air in a grand gesture, at the same time shocked at my own impulsiveness as I call out, ‘Fetch champagne, Roberto! Tomorrow I go home.’ He pulls a sad face, but quickly returns with a happy one and a tray with clinking flutes and an ice bucket, the neck of a champagne bottle poking above its rim.
Setting it down on the table, he picks up the bottle and thrusts it towards me. ‘Ah, Dom Perignon. Mmm, perfect,’ I say with no idea of cost or quality. Derek doesn’t care for champagne, says it’s not worth the money. I watch as Roberto carefully untwists the wire holding firm the cork and eases it out with his thumbs. A loud bang and it flies into the air, creating a parabola before dropping into the lake with a gentle plop. Expertly, he catches the foaming champagne in each flute and passes one to me. Our glasses touch with a chink, and we sip the cool bubbling wine.
We soon fall into easy conversation interspersed with laughter. We talk about families, jobs, our respective countries, anything except married life. Roberto makes me feel alive. He takes out a packet of cigarettes and holds them out to me. I haven’t smoked in years but I take one anyway. I can feel the devil breathing down the back of my neck as Roberto flicks his lighter and holds the flame next to my cigarette. The familiar taste hits the back of my throat as I inhale deeply. Apart from a slight fit of coughing, it’s as though I never quit. He refills my glass and we smoke and drink in silence for a while. Though we speak no words, there is language in our eyes. Our fingers touch across the table and twenty thousand volts surge through my body. I lean over to him and whisper, ‘Kiss me, Roberto.’
‘Are you going to eat that sausage?’
‘What?’
‘Your sausage.’ Derek has noticed I haven’t touched my lunch.
I shake my head and swallow hard. The sight of food does little to help my nausea.
He leans across and stabs it with his fork. ‘Mind you, I’m not surprised you can’t eat after last night. When Roberto dragged you to our room at 3 a.m. he told me you’d necked the best part of a bottle of bubbly. Talk about embarrassing. What was the last thing I said to you?’
‘Oh, shut up, Derek, I feel queasy.’ I reach for a sick bag.
‘And then you throw up over my going home clothes. You couldn’t even speak properly you were that far gone. All you kept saying was, “It must have been the siccia.” Well, you can say that again. I’ve never seen anyone in such a state. And another thing, have you any idea how much that champagne cost? We could have stayed another week for the price of that overrated rubbish. ’
My drunken antics are beginning to shape themselves into a vague reality. I shudder when I recall that violating Derek’s clean clothes was not the worst of them and I dread to think what Roberto must have thought of me. Still, seeing Derek down on his hands and knees rooting through the ‘dirty bag’ to find the least soiled shirt and underpants for his journey home brought some solace to my dented pride. That’ll teach him to bring enough clothes, I thought as I raised the brown paper bag to my mouth.
Bio:
I have always loved writing and have had several short stories and poems published in anthologies. More recently, I have had my first novel published, 'Living with Shadows'. I also enjoy losing myself in a good novel and am an avid reader.
After years of working as a secretary, I decided on a change of career and went to University where I gained a B.A. in Literature and Philosophy. I developed a thirst for learning and a couple of years later gained an M.A. in Modern Literary Studies.
Since qualifying as a teacher in 1996, I have taught English and Creative Writing in prisons and colleges and now work part-time as a lecturer/administrator in a Training Centre.
I am married with three grown up children and live in Lancashire, England.