The Turning Point Page 5

  “Italia,” Nonna said prayerfully. Her homeland. “When does she leave, Andrea? I’ll help her pack.”

  “Nonna!” I whined. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “When someone gives you Italy, you say grazie and get your butt on the plane.”

  “Thank you, Mamma.” My mother bowed her head to my grandmother.

  “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go.” I was beat down and tired. I groaned and hid under my covers.

  “I knew you’d see reason. I’m headed to the shop, Soph. Won’t be home until later. Oh, and call the university and get school arranged for the fall.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled. After this vacation, I seriously needed to consider getting my own place.

  I lay under the blanket until I couldn’t hear them talking anymore. When I knew it was safe, I tossed the cover off and sat up. “So much for my freaking plans.” I slapped my hands down on top of the blanket and traced one of the rainbow-colored double helices with my index finger.

  “Dad drops an atom bomb on my future, I have to postpone med school, and now I’m going to Italy.” Can this summer get any worse?

  Chapter Six

  Once Mom put her foot down about summer classes, I was left with one week to pull myself together for Italy. Mom and Nonna had been…well, what’s the Italian word for “unbearable”? If I never saw the inside of another mall for as long as I lived, it would be too soon. I still hadn’t figured out why I needed three swimsuits, but Mom was certain that I did. And when she was certain, there’s no arguing with her.

  I tossed the black and hot pink bottoms to the bikini Mom said “I just had to have” into my suitcase with its matching black polka-dot top. There was no way in hell I planned on wearing it—it barely covered anything—but Mom insisted that I take it. Eyeing the scraps of fabric, I crinkled my nose in disgust. “You’ll go to Italy, but I’m never taking you out.”

  “Sophia, hurry up! If we don’t leave now, you’ll never make your flight,” Mom shouted from the living room.

  I went to my door and pulled it open. “I’m—” I started to yell, but I quickly snapped my mouth shut when I saw Mom standing in the doorway. “Oh, hey. I’m just about ready.” I turned and walked back to my bed, where my suitcase lay.

  “Need any help?”

  I yanked the zipper closed, grasped the handle, and lifted the bulky luggage from the bed. “Nope,” I replied, turning around to face her.

  She beamed. If St. Louis’s power grid ran on sheer joy, Mom’s radiant smile would light the city up for months. “I sure hope you cheer up, Soph. You’re going to Italy, not the dentist.”

  I allowed a small portion of her radiance to soak into me, forcing my lips into a thin smile. “You’re right.”

  She put her hands on my shoulders. “You are going to have the time of your life. I just know it.” With a little shake, she pulled me into her arms and hugged me tightly.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  With one last squeeze, Mom pulled away, looked me in the eye, and said, “Get your things, let’s go.”

  I regarded her with a nod. I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled, “I’m going to Italy.”

  “Ahhh! You’re going to Italy!” she cheered, lifting my messenger bag off the bed and walking toward the hallway.

  I was right behind her. This was indeed the vacation of a lifetime. Once I started med school in the fall, I wouldn’t be able to drop everything and leave the country on a whim. This was my chance to be young and carefree, as Mom had put it. But as I followed her down the hall, I couldn’t help but hear a dirge in the back of my head. Despite my father’s grandiose gesture, this trip felt tainted. It was almost as if he were telling me, “Here, have this trip, enjoy life to its fullest, because it won’t last, sweetheart.”

  * * *

  “Air France Flight 1178 to Naples, Italy, is now boarding,” a breathy-voiced attendant with a thick French accent announced over the PA.

  I sighed and clicked off my e-reader, feeling sorry for the characters and the precarious situation I’d left them in. I was eager to get on the plane and pick up where I’d left off. Stowing my e-reader in my bag, I retrieved my passport and ticket, ready for the final leg of my trip. In two hours and fifteen minutes, I’d be in Naples, Italy, and the first thing I planned to do was sleep.

  With my travel documents in hand, I stood and joined the line, inching my way closer to the Jetway. When I reached the front, I passed my papers to the attendant.

  “Merci. Enjoy the flight,” she said, handing back my passport.

  “Thank you,” I replied, and headed toward the plane.

  Taking my seat by the window, I brought my e-reader back out and pushed my bag under the seat in front of me. I stared out the window. Paris. It was sad that all I got to see of the City of Lights was from the vantage point of an airport. I’d always wanted to go to Paris. Would I ever have the chance…the ability? I hoped the answer to that was yes.

  “Scusi,” a gravelly voice called from the aisle.

  I turned my head to see a tiny, feeble old man. He had a small satchel clutched in his hand that looked like it weighed more than he did.

  “Oh, let me help you with that.” I pushed my e-reader into the seat pocket and turned, grabbing the strap of his bag. He let go with a look of relief.

  I pushed his bag beneath the seat and he sat down, wheezing. Between labored breaths, he said, “Grazie.”

  I smiled. “My pleasure,” I replied, hoping he understood English.

  “Sono Aldo.” He extended his wrinkled hand to me.

  With a gentle shake, I introduced myself. “Sophia. Nice to meet you.”

  “Sí, very nice.”

  I brought my hand back to my lap and Aldo laid his head back on the seat, closing his eyes. His breathing was still shallow and wheezy. I wondered how old he was.

  Not wanting to disturb him, I clicked my e-reader free on and waited for my library to populate. I listened as the flight attendants began their preflight safety demonstration, first in French, then in English.

  “You like to read?” Aldo asked, turning his head in my direction.

  I looked at him and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “What you read?”

  “Oh, anything really.” I smiled. “But right now I’m hooked on romance novels.”

  Aldo gave a throaty laugh, which segued into a cough. “My Elenora liked those, too.”

  “So does my nonna,” I added.

  His face brightened. “Ah, nonna. You’re Italian?”

  “Sí.” I nodded, happy to try out my limited Italian. Mom and Nonna hardly ever spoke in Italian, so I never picked it up. Honestly, I didn’t think Mom knew Italian all that well either. When Nonna and Pappous moved to the United States, before they had Mom, they embraced American culture with open arms.

  “You visit family?”

  The plane’s engines kicked into high gear. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have been cleared for takeoff,” the flight attendant announced.

  I glanced out the window as we taxied to the runway; then I looked at Aldo, answering his question. “Sort of. I plan to visit my grandfather while I’m on vacation.”

  “Oh, that is nice. I’m sure he’s very excited.”

  To avoid being an obnoxious seatmate, I left out the part about never having met my grandfather and that I have no idea whether he’s excited or not. That was probably more information than Aldo wanted to know, so I went with the safe answer. “Yeah.”

  I returned my attention to my book and Aldo closed his eyes. We settled in just as the plane tore down the runway. The landing gear lifted. In two hours, I’d be in Italy.

  * * *

  As the plane began its descent, Aldo continued his story.

  “And then I saw her, my Elenora,” he said wistfully. He brought his hand up and swiped it gently in front of him, as if he were brushing his hand across Elenora’s cheek.

  “Did she see you?” I asked, enthralled. His real-life love stor
y was so much better than the story on my e-reader. I was such a sucker for old-fashioned love stories. My heart clenched, waiting for him to continue.

  A smile grew on his weathered face. “Sí.” He nodded. “But not at first. She was across the crowded hospital room, tending to the soldiers who had more life-threatening injuries.”

  “I bet she was so scared, not knowing what had happened to you.”

  The plane dipped and my stomach sank. “Whoa,” I said, grabbing on to the armrest.

  Aldo waved off the turbulence. “It’s nothing. Just a little bump. Don’t worry about bumps.” He chuckled and patted my hand.

  The plane rocked again, this time with a noticeable altitude change. “Just a little bump?” I threw Aldo a glance and leaned back in my seat, holding on for dear life.

  “Sí, sí!” he laughed.

  “I’m glad you find this funny,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “First time you fly?”

  I shook my head. “No. Just not a fan of bumps.” I smiled at him.

  “Elenora never liked to fly.”

  “Will you finish your story?” I had to hear the end before we went our separate ways.

  “Oh yes, of course.” He pointed a crooked, bony finger in my direction. “Take your mind off the bumps.”

  “Yes, please.”

  Aldo’s black eyes twinkled as he traveled back to the day he and his lover had been reunited. The way he spoke of Elenora, with such reverence, it pierced my heart. I hoped that one day, someone would think of me with that kind of love and admiration. But then I wondered if I was doomed to live vicariously through other people’s stories. Would I get a happily-ever-after?

  “A nurse I did not know attended my injuries. While she patched me, I watched my Elenora move about the room. She fixed broken soldiers, too. Time”—he shook his head—“not a friend. I worried she’d moved on. I’d seen battle…I knew fear. But seeing her, a greater fear lodged in my gut.” Aldo clenched his fist and shook it at his belly. “After being gone longer than a year…I couldn’t bear it if she wouldn’t have me.”

  The plane sank again; then I felt the rumble of the landing gear coming down. The flight attendant came over the speakers, first speaking landing instructions in French and then English. “We have begun preparations for landing. Please put your seat and tray tables in their upright positions. Seat belts must remain fastened until the aircraft has arrived at the gate. All luggage and loose items must be stowed securely. Thank you for flying with us today. Welcome to Naples, Italy.”

  The intercom clicked off, but Aldo remained silent. “Did she see you?” I asked, yearning to know the answer. He’d built up the climax to their reunion so well.

  A loud rumble of laughter shook his shoulders. “I shoved the fear aside and found courage buried beneath. With my wounds bandaged, I got up and walked toward her, desperate to be at her side. The love of a woman is a powerful thing. It can cure or destroy a man.”

  A loud whoosh filled the cabin and the wheels of the landing gear touched the runway. The plane bounced.

  “Elenora looked up from her patient, and her eyes, like sparkling green gems, landed on me. She gasped like she’d seen a ghost.”

  I held my breath.

  “Then she stood, slowly, and I quickened my pace.”

  Energy from the speeding plane pressed Aldo and me to the backs of our seats.

  “Then, once she realized I was not a ghost, she flew down the aisle and crashed into my waiting, open arms,” he said on a sigh, just as the plane came to a halt on the runway, inertia throwing our bodies forward with a jolt.

  “So she waited,” I said breathlessly, consumed by his story.

  With a little nod, he confirmed. “She waited. And now she waits again.” Aldo looked up and made the sign of the cross. “One day we will have another reunion.”

  My heart sank. “Aldo, I’m so sorry.”

  “Ciancia. Nonsense.” He waved off my apology. “When she got sick, I prayed for her. She was in a lot of pain, so I prayed for God to take her quickly. He answered my prayer and my Elenora did not suffer. She lived a long life. We were happy. No regrets. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat, as long as Elenora was by my side. Her smile brought the sun up each day.” He smiled at the memory.

  Tears pooled in my eyes, listening to him speak about his Elenora. “Thank you, Aldo,” I said, trying hard not to blink. Stupid tears. I hated to cry.

  “Sophia, it was a pleasure to sit next to you.” Aldo extended his right hand for me to shake.

  I placed my hand in his wrinkled palm and he gave it two gentle pumps before he pulled me closer, placing a kiss on each of my cheeks. “Godetevi Napoli, mia cara.”

  When he pulled away, I shook my head. “I’m sorry. My Italian is atrocious.”

  “Enjoy Naples, dear,” he repeated in English.

  I stared into his glassy, dark eyes. The things those eyes had seen. I wanted to hear more of his stories, and I secretly wished he were the grandfather I was supposed to meet.

  Would it be rude of me to invite myself to his house for the next six weeks?

  I heard Mom in the back of my mind. Yes, Sophia, it would be rude. Go live your own stories!

  “Grazie, Aldo.”

  “It was a pleasure, cara. Napoli is my home. No place finer in all of Italy. You have a good time.”

  Aldo stood and reached for his bag on the floor, groaning.

  “No, let me.” Since I was in my seat, I had better access to the luggage.

  “Grazie,” he said as I handed him his bag.

  Aldo smiled and stepped into the aisle. “Arrivederci, Sophia. It was nice to meet you.”

  I smiled. “Likewise. Arrivederci, Aldo.”

  “And remember, do not worry about the bumps.”

  “Right.” I pointed at him. “I’ll remember.”

  I watched Aldo hobble up the aisle as I gathered my bags. Italy was definitely a bump in my summer plans, but I’d get over it and maybe even allow myself to enjoy a break from my hectic life. But my dad’s news? That was a speeding train, hitting a speed bump and crashing into a brick wall at full steam. What would Aldo say about that?

  Chapter Seven

  After retrieving my luggage from the baggage claim, I passed through customs without incident and stepped outside into the stifling Italian air. Similar to St. Louis, Italy dealt with heat and humidity, too. At least I wouldn’t have to adjust to the climate.

  Glancing at the itinerary my dad printed for me, I saw that my hotel was a fifteen-minute taxi ride from the airport; the hard part would be flagging one down. I had no clue how to hail a taxi in America, let alone Italy, but I was about to learn. It couldn’t be that hard, right? I passed the freaking MCAT; I could hail a damn taxi.

  Retracting the handle on my suitcase, I rolled farther out into the sunshine. Bringing the papers in my left hand up to my forehead, I used them as a shield against the blazing sun while I took in the bustling airport.

  Several taxis were lined up in front. A few feet away, a handsome man in a well-tailored suit approached a waiting cab with a raised hand. He and the driver exchanged a few words and the Suit opened the door and climbed inside. A second later, a woman with a baby did the same thing. If nothing else, my science degree taught me how to be observant.

  Pulling my suitcase behind me, I navigated the noisy throng and headed to where the Suit and Mom had just been. With my hand raised, I walked toward the waiting taxis.

  “Taxi?” I hollered, unsure of what I was supposed to say.

  “Sí. Where to?” the driver asked in a heavy accent. I was thankful he spoke English, though.

  “Uh, I have it right here.” I glanced at the papers. “The Hotel Suite Esedra. Um…Via A. Cantani, 12,” I stumbled over the address.

  “Get in. Get in,” the driver yelled, gesturing wildly with his hands.

  I fumbled with the door, pulling it open quickly, then stuffed my suitcase inside, climbing in after. The second
I shut the door, the driver pulled away from the curb and shot into traffic.

  Outside I watched Naples pass by in a blur as the taxi weaved around the road. Scooters and smart cars whizzed by, cutting other motorists off without a second thought. There were so many people. I’d lived in St. Louis my whole life, thinking it was a big city. I was so wrong.

  My eyes stayed glued to the window, marveling at the driver’s ability to navigate the congested streets with relative ease. Only when my phone rang did I pull my eyes from the chaos outside.

  Mom’s picture filled the screen, her name printed at the top. Dad had added an international calling plan to my cell phone package, so I had no qualms about accepting Mom’s call. He’d made it quite clear that this trip was on his dime. I pressed ACCEPT. “Hi, Mom!”

  “Soph! Did you make it? Where are you?” she asked enthusiastically, but mixed with a hint of worry.

  “I did. I’m in a taxi now, on my way to the hotel. You should see this place, Mom. It’s crazy.”

  Mom laughed brightly. “I have seen it, Patatina. Crazy, huh?”

  “You can say that again,” I said.

  “Have a good time, Soph, and be careful. Lots of pickpockets.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I will.”

  The taxi pulled onto a narrow street, and the driver threw the car into park in front of a yellow-sided building. HOTEL SUITE ESEDRA was spelled out in big gray letters.

  “Mom, I’ve got to go. I’m at the hotel.”

  “Okay. Be safe. Love you, Soph.”

  “Love you, too. Bye.” I shouldered the phone and rooted around in my purse for my wallet.

  “Talk to you soon,” Mom said, and then the line went quiet. I dropped the phone into my purse and pulled out some money.

  Handing the euros to the driver, I threw the strap of my bag across my body and grabbed my suitcase, tossing the door open. “Thank you,” I said, climbing out of the cab.

  I freed my luggage and closed the door just as the driver sped off.

  Whoa! My hair fluttered in its wake. This place is unreal.