Something's Come Up (16 page)

He raised both reddish eyebrows. “It speaks volumes, actually. She’s never introduced me to
anyone
. She’s never even talked about seeing anyone. You must be special to her.”

I laughed out loud. I could have stifled it, but I was too jetlagged to expend the energy. He tilted his head almost imperceptibly, but didn’t seem offended in the slightest.

“I think I’ll give you two another day to recuperate from your trip before I drag you all over Vatican City. It seems like you could use some alone time.” He stood and I saw him pick up a cane off the vacant chair to his left; I tried to cover my shock as he used it to totter around the table and offered me his hand.

I grasped it, taken aback by my morning on a level that had rendered me otherwise speechless. “Thanks,” I managed.

“I know my sister is difficult, but she truly is a good person, Pace. She just doesn’t know it yet.” His emphatic words and sad eyes gave me a sinking feeling and I realized I’d not only stepped in quicksand, I’d jumped in with both feet. He hobbled to the exit and vanished long before she reappeared from the restroom.

“Where’s Cedric?” she asked. She seemed cagey, her shrewd eyes passing quizzically over my face as though she seemed weary to be alone with me.

“He’s meeting us tomorrow instead.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What the hell? Is he pissed? Did you call him a Nazi or something?”

“No! I guess we gave off an awkward vibe. I can’t imagine why. Thanks for the heads up that he was handicapped. Much appreciated.” I expected her to lash back at me. Craved it, actually. Instead, she accepted my explanation with a simple nod.

I wanted badly to get into it with her right there, to fight all the points of the day that had made me uncomfortable or had made me look foolish. But I was in Rome, so I decided to do what the Romans did instead. Drink wine and get laid. Besides, courtroom battles could be saved for later.

Agenda free, we decided to wander over to see the Colosseum since it wasn’t far from our hotel. As we walked through the ruins of the amphitheater, I imagined all the gladiators who’d desperately fought for their lives while bored voyeurs watched impassively. When Stephanie translated for me that in its heyday, the Colosseum could hold up to 80,000 spectators, it gave me the chills. Still, as the day wore on, I felt myself sliding into a funk. Fortunately, when I reached out for her hand and she laced her fingers in mine, I felt temporarily pacified.

Later, as we proceeded through the ruins of the Roman Forum, I felt the pendulum of my mood swaying back and forth between awestruck and depressed. The history this place had seen made me feel minuscule, and the beauty and endurance of the structures had me marveling at the legacy great men were capable of leaving behind. I said as much to Steph and she simply nodded dismissively and continued snapping pictures. Though I felt my resolve strengthen about my motivation to practice law, any conviction I felt about Stephanie and I was wavering in the treacherous waters of my self-reflection.

We stopped at a small outdoor cafe for some lunch and over a bottle of wine, I flung open the can of worms.

“What do you think, Red? Is it worth it?” I huffed out a breath as if purging the poisonous words from deep within. “Is it worth all the self-doubt and hassle, the misunderstandings and fights, to try to turn
this
into something real?”

She’d been dipping a chunk of bread into a mixture of olive oil and spices and froze. Her eyes shot to mine and she seemed surprisingly hurt. I’d known it would be unpleasant for her—to discuss anything emotional always was—so I didn’t relinquish my hold on her eyes. When hers swelled with large, genuine tears, my mouth fell open. Her youth was showing and I could no longer hide from our small yet cavernous age difference any more than I could our many other incompatibilities. When she spoke, her voice quivered.

“I thought this
was
something real.”

W
e lay as far apart from one another as we could be without falling off the bed and onto the floor. Listening to his exasperated sighs made me want to shove a pillow over his face. I needed to get up and walk the streets, snap some nighttime pictures and try to think about all the things he’d said about why we were a bad idea, but I knew if I left it would just cause more drama, so I dug my nails into my palms and tried not to fidget.

He turned toward me and by the light of the streetlamp I saw him up on one elbow. “So you have nothing to say? You're just going to freeze me out?”

My eyes glued to the shadowy ceiling, I responded, “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything, Red.”

“What, like sorry I’m not good enough for you? Fuck that.”

He sat up. “Don’t be a bitch. You know it’s not like that.”

“Really? How about we recap. It’s not that I’m too poor for you. No fucking shit. A bit nouveau riche, perhaps, but hey. Nobody’s perfect. I’m not too stupid for you. Just maybe a bit of an underachiever. Terrific. What a fucking relief!”

“Stephanie…”

That condescending sigh again. Thanks for punctuating my point, you elitist bastard.

I continued as if I didn’t want to wail on him till the feathers exploded from my pillow. “Not too white, not too ugly, not too needy, not too young. Maybe a bit too religious, but you could live with that. My biggest problem is that I’m just too...frivolous. No matter how good I am, what I do doesn’t matter or contribute to society. Wow. I think I would have preferred any one of those other excuses, Pace.”

“Quit putting words in my mouth.”

He sounded like he was reasoning with a toddler in the midst of a tantrum. I wanted to backhand him.

“I get it. You want to leave your mark on the world. And not just a mark, a big fucking sizzling brand. I get that more than you know.” I was so angry I almost started to cry again. He’d taken me off guard at lunch when he suggested we go back to being “friends.” As if we were ever friends. Laughable.

I was livid, and I hated that anger made me teary. It was a stupid hormonal response for my fucking gender but I would be damned if he would get any more tears from me.

I sat up suddenly and tried to focus on his face in the dark. “But I just want to say one thing. Do you know what else is all over this city besides the ‘feats of architecture and scientific history’ you’re so wowed by? Art. Art endures, Pace. Art survives the ages, just like the other oh-so-important legacies of great men.”

Pace grabbed my shoulders and their tension showed he wasn’t letting go any time soon. “Steph. What the
fuck
are you talking about? I never talk to you about money or thinking you’re dumb—which I fucking don’t. If you’re having insecurities about your career, maybe that’s something you need to think about on your own. You’re not going to take it out on me.”

“I
don’t
have any insecurities. About anything.” It was a lie, but he didn’t need more ammunition.

He didn’t buy it.

“You’re full of shit, Red. Tell me what the fuck all of that was about.”

“You were a fucking brilliant medical student and now you’re a fucking brilliant law student. I take pictures of bulimic idiots.”

“So? You made more money as a senior in high school than I have in the past four years.”

“You have a kick-ass apartment that your family doesn’t pay for.”

Pace blinked in confusion. “You think I fucking pay for that thing myself? With what? I’m good, Red, but not
that
good. Grandma Turner gave me my trust fund money early. I bought that place and plan to make more back when I graduate.”

“See?” I held out my hands. “I even didn’t know you were planning to leave the city after you graduated. I don’t know shit about you.” I realized I was making a different point than the one he was trying to illustrate, but rational was so not how I was feeling.

Pace stood and put on his boxers. It was rarely a good sign when he started putting clothes
on.
“You’re from Chicago, Stephanie. That’s where your dad’s business is. The one you’re working for. Were you planning on freelancing in New York your whole life?”

“So, what, after you graduated in two years you were just going to say goodbye with a note next to my pillow?”

“You’re graduating next year!” He held out his arms as if sealing in a closing argument to a trial I didn’t have a lawyer for.

“So then what the fuck are we doing here?” I snapped back.

He took a deep breath and put his hands down on his hips, hanging his head in silence. He lifted his face and bit his lip. “I don’t know.”

Three words hit us both like a ton of bricks had been released from the ceiling. I got out of bed and wrapped a robe around my seething skin.

“Damn it,” he whispered, sighing again. “It wasn’t supposed to be this complicated.”

“Well,” I snapped, “I’m sorry—”

“Not you, Red.” He prowled toward me, once again taking my shoulders. This time it was tender. “This.” He waved his finger between us.

“Yeah,” I huffed.

“This was supposed to be fun. Easy. So fucking sexy.”

“It
is
all of those things.” My heart started to race. I wasn’t sure what it was we had left, but I didn’t want it to go away.

“It is, and a whole load of other shit. We didn’t let each other all the way in, but pretended like hell to. Then all of a sudden we were sitting on top of a skyscraper with a shoddy foundation.”

I backed up and stuck my finger in his face. “Fuck that,
I
let
you
in. Look around you, Pace, we’re in
Rome.
With my brother, for
the love of fuck!
”

He grabbed my finger and dragged me over to the bed. “Sit.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Steph. Let’s talk like adults. Please. I think we got a little ahead of ourselves.”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t say.”

“Somehow we got swept up in wanting to possess each other that we confused that with wanting to
be
with each other. Christ, I really can’t stand even the
thought
of another man’s hands on you. And that’s…a problem. Isn’t it?”’

I snorted. “And I want to rip the face of any girl who looks at you.”

“I wasn’t supposed to fall for you.” He turned his head and looked at me without an ounce of ire in his eyes.

“You…you fucking fell for me?” I stood and paced the short length of the bed.

He rolled his head back like he was exasperated. “Look around you, like you said. We’re in
Rome.
I don’t
do
this. Take trips with women. Meet their families.”

“Then why have me meet your parents if it wasn’t serious? Because they caught you feeling me up? Or was that just your money showing?”

“Class and money aren’t the same thing, Steph.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Are you saying I don’t have class?” As if that wasn’t obvious, even to me.

“Jesus! Not everything is about you!”

I grabbed a beer from the mini fridge and made my way to the restroom. “I guess that’s the problem. It used to be. And I was pretty fucking content that way, Turner.”

I was twenty minutes into a bubble bath when he picked the lock.

“Look. Another Pace Turner hidden talent,” I chirped.

He ignored it, sitting on the edge of the tub. “Why don’t we try to keep an open mind the rest of the week? Enjoy the city. Enjoy each other. Reassess on the flight home?

“Sounds reasonable,” I mumbled. Reasonable was not a characteristic I valued or sought out in companions, therefore I
reasonably
assumed we were pretty much fucked.

When the wheels of the airplane touched down at JFK, it was like I’d been woken from a bad dream with a splash of cold water. Red and I were back in the neutral territory of New York City. No Rome, no priest brother, and my parents tucked safely away in Philadelphia.

We didn’t talk on the flight. Not a goddamn word. We both slept, off and on, and had our headphones in the rest of the time. Once the plane taxied over to the gate, I reached into the overhead compartment and took out both of our carry-ons. Steph had had her cheek pressed against the window, but snapped her head around as I closed the compartment.