Love & Gelato (16 page)

SEPTEMBER 20

The only hard part about being in love with X is not telling anyone about it. I know the school wouldn't be okay with us dating, but it's hard to keep something this big a secret. It's torture to spend half our days within ten feet of each other and not even touch.

I'm pretty bad at secret-keeping, and everyone seems to know I'm in love. Part of it is logistics. Most nights we meet up late, and I don't get home until three or four a.m. I told Francesca that I'm out working on my night photography, but she just rolled her eyes and told me she knows all about “night photography.” Part of me wonders if everyone is just pretending not to know what's going on. Are they really that dense? Our relationship is taking place right under their noses!

OCTOBER 9

X and I are starting to get really creative about where we meet. We knew that everyone else would be staying in studying tonight, so we went to Space (one and the same) and after we'd danced until we were exhausted we wandered around the city. X told me he had a surprise for me and we started winding our way through the dark streets until I could smell something amazing—a mixture of sugar and butter and something else. Bliss?

Finally we turned a corner and saw a group of people gathered around a brightly lit doorway. It was a secret bakery—one of a few. Basically, commercial bakers work through the night to produce pastries for restaurants, and even though it's illegal, they'll give you a freshly baked pastry for a few euro. Only a few insiders know about it, but those who do, well . . . let's just say they're in danger of becoming nocturnal.

Everyone in line was acting really quiet and nervous, and when it was our turn, X bought a chocolate-filled
cornetta
, a glazed croissant, and two stuffed cannoli. Then we sat down on a curb and devoured all of it. When I got home Francesca, Finn, and Simone were sprawled out on our tiny couches and they all teased me about what kind of night shots I'd gotten. I wish I could tell them.

Wow.

First of all, sign me up for a trip to the secret bakery. I didn't even know what a
cornetta
or cannoli was, and I was still practically salivating all over the pages. But most important, what was the deal with all this secrecy?

I flipped back through the entries. Did schools really have policies on students not dating assistant teachers? I could see it being a rule for actual professors, but research students? And my mom had been
smitten.
How was it possible that someone this crazy about their boyfriend had ended up walking out and keeping their child a secret for sixteen years?

I marked my place in the journal, then walked over to the window. It was a gorgeous night. Clouds were drifting past the moon like ghost ships, and now that Howard's friends had cleared out, everything was still and quiet.

Suddenly a blur of movement caught my eye and I froze. What was
that
? I leaned out the window, my heart hammering against my rib cage. A white figure was moving toward the house. It looked like a person, but it was moving way too fast, like a . . . I squinted. Was that
Howard
? On a long board?

“What are you doing?” I whispered. He kicked off hard and went sailing past the driveway, like a seal gliding out to sea. Like it was something he did all the time.

I had to figure this guy out.

“LINA, YOU AWAKE? PHONE'S FOR
you.” Howard knocked on my open bedroom door, and I shoved the journal under the bed. I'd been rereading the entries from the night before. And stalling. Because, yes, I wanted to know what had happened. But I also wanted to prolong the happy part. Sort of like the time I stopped
Titanic
halfway through and made Addie watch the first part over again.

“Who is it?”

“Ren. I've got to get you your own phone. You just hang on to my cell phone for now. I'll use the landline.”

“Thanks.” I got up and walked over to him. He looked wide-awake and very un-X-like. No evidence of his ghostly night riding. Or sketchy dating practices.

He handed me the phone. “Will you please tell Ren that he doesn't need to be afraid of me? He just set a world record for using ‘sir' the most times in a single conversation.”

“I can, but it probably won't do any good. You really messed with him that first time you talked.”

“I had good reason.” He smiled. “See you a little later? I should be off work around five.”

“Okay.” I put the phone to my ear and Howard stepped out into the hallway. Ciao,
mysterious X.

“Hi, Ren.”

“
Ciao
, Lina. I'm so glad you're alive.”

I leaned casually out the door and watched Howard walk down the stairs. He'd made out with my mom in a public park? Totally not the kind of thing you should have to know about your parents. And what had been so special about the way he'd said her name that first time they'd connected at Space? It sounded like a cheesy scene from one of those soap operas Addie's mom pretended not to watch.

“You there?” Ren asked.

“Yeah, sorry. I'm kind of distracted.” I closed my bedroom door, then sat on my bed.

“So he wasn't mad?”

“No. He was having a party, and I don't think he even noticed we were late.”

“
Fortunato
. Have you gone running yet?”

“No. I was just about to. Want to come?”

“Already on my way. Meet me at the cemetery gates.”

I changed, then ran out to meet him. Ren was wearing a bright orange T-shirt and was jogging in place like an old man. As usual his hair was in his eyes and he looked sort of warm and glowy from the run over.

“How is
this
not American-looking?” I asked, plucking at his shirt.

“It's not American-looking when it's on an Italian.”

“Half-Italian,” I corrected.

“Half is enough. Trust me.” We started up the road.

“So your mom won a LensCulture Award,” he said.

I looked at him. “How'd you know?”

“There's this thing called the Internet. It's really helpful.”

“Oh yeah, I vaguely remember that from back before I lived in Italy.” I'd tried to FaceTime Addie about ten times that morning to update her on the night's reading, but so far I'd just gotten this annoying
NO SERVIZIO
message over and over. At least now I could use Howard's phone whenever I wanted.

“I found a bunch of articles on her. You didn't tell me she was a big deal.”

“The LensCulture jump-started her career. That's when she started doing photography full-time.”

“I liked the picture. I've never seen anything like it. What was it called?
Erased?
” He sprinted ahead of me, then wrapped his arms around himself, looking over one shoulder. The photograph had been of a woman who'd just had a tattooed name removed from her shoulder.

I laughed. “Not bad.”

He fell back in line with me. “I also saw the self-portraits she did while she was sick. They were pretty intense. And I saw you in some of them.”

I kept my eyes laser focused on the road. “I don't really like looking at those.”

“Understandable.”

The road dipped and I automatically sped up. Ren did too.

“So . . . you hanging out with your friends again soon?” I asked.

“You mean Thomas?”

I flushed. “And . . . others.” Priority number one was figuring out what had gone on between Howard and my mother, but that didn't mean I had to let my chance with Thomas go to waste, right?

“It's Marco, right? You really want to see him again, don't you?”

I laughed again. “Maybe.”

“Didn't Thomas get your number?”

“I don't even have a number. You keep calling me at the cemetery, remember?” Also, he hadn't asked for it. Probably because he'd remembered his expensive watch
after
following me into the pool.

“I also called you on your dad's cell phone. Even though it was terrifying.”

“How'd you even get that number?”

“Sonia. But it took me like an hour to get up the courage to use it.”

I sighed. “Ren, you've got to get over that first bad conversation with Howard. I mean, he's a pretty nice guy. It's not like he's going to hurt you for being nice to me.”

“Have you ever been yelled at by an ogre for something you didn't do? It's not that easy to get over.”

“Ogre?” I laughed.

“People just aren't that tall here. I bet he gets stared at everywhere he goes.”

“Probably.”

The world's tiniest truck sped past us, sending out a series of staccato beeps. Ren waved. “Hey, do you want to go into town with me tonight? We could get some ice cream or just walk around or something. Maybe like eight thirty?”

“Think Swedish Model would be okay with that?”

I meant it as a joke, but he looked at me seriously. “I think it will be all right.”

When Ren arrived to pick me up, Howard and I were finishing dinner. He'd made a big bowl of pasta with fresh tomatoes and mozzarella, and I'd spent the whole meal staring at him like a complete weirdo.
X is handsome, intelligent, and charming.
Except for when you get pregnant with his baby? Then he's suddenly so terrible that you flee halfway across the world and avoid him for the next sixteen years? I'd picked up the journal three different times that afternoon, and each time I'd had to set it back down. It was just so overwhelming.

“Is everything all right?” Howard asked.

“Yes. I was just . . . thinking.” Ever since we'd had that talk about
not
talking about my mom, things had been feeling a little better. He was actually pretty easy to be around. Sort of laid-back-beach-guy-meets-history-buff.

I stabbed another forkful of pasta. “This is really good.”

“Well, that's in spite of the chef. It's pretty hard to mess up when you have such great ingredients. So what do you think about tomorrow? I can take the whole day off so we'll have plenty of time for sightseeing.”