Black with dots of color danced beneath her eyelids, or were those colors? Was it the inside of her eyelid, or was it just her imagination of what the inside of her eyelid looked like? If she pressed her closed eyes into her arm, colors would appear in bursts, but no colors she could describe. The black suddenly turned to red and yellow as a light shined in her face and she abandoned her search for an explanation.
The yellow turned out to be a passing moped’s light on its way down the street. This was a common occurrence since mopeds, motorcycles and bikes outnumbered cars in this city, much to her great pleasure and amazement. She was sitting on the patio of the café on the bottom level of a hotel in the most beautiful city in the world. At least it was the most beautiful city that she had ever been to. It was a gorgeous summer day in Rome, and she was enjoying the perfect weather and a glass of lemonade.
Her hotel was at the corner a bustling road in the lovely neighborhood of Trestevere. All the guide books had said this was the number one place to stay when on vacation in the city. It was right across the Tiber River from the actual big city. The neighborhood was beautiful; it had trees on the sides of the road and flower venders everywhere. Everything she needed was only a block or two away from her hotel. The little grocery store was to the left, the small movie theater to the right, and fruit venders everywhere you looked. She was there at a very nice time of year, July, right before the hordes of tourists would arrive. She had done her homework, finding the perfect time to come.
A few more motorized vehicles passed by on the cobble stone street as she sat there, her red curly hair flickering back and forth with the breeze they created. A great many people moved in and out of her vision as well. A mother walked past followed by two small dark haired boys to whom she was conversing in rapid Italian, much to their displeasure. Men went about their business, giving a little wave and a “Ciao!” to acquaintances as they went by. This suggested that they saw these same people every single day as part of their routine.
Her gaze fell on people of all different temperaments. One smiling girl passed her holding hands with a nervous faced boy, probably on a first date. An old man slouched by with a grimace. A worried looking middle aged guy in a suit strode by looking at his watch. Everyone had their own purpose, and was going their own direction. There was another café across the street from her hotel, a cheery little place with flower boxes outside the windows. The waiter stood outside wiping down small mosaic tables and smiling at people on their way down the street. Sitting out side that one directly across from her was an older man with a sad expression on his face, his coffee forgotten to whatever pressing matter was occupying his mind. He was a good looking man, probably in his mid forties with light brown hair, probably hiding some grays. His handsome face was made sour by his despondent expression. He was a dark spot in front of an otherwise bright scene.
It was easy to forget that the rest of the world was not on vacation like she was. After an extremely stressful semester of college she was finally kicking back and relaxing. It was great being someplace new, where no one knew her name. She could just blend in and be anonymous, just observe instead of taking part. She had been saving money for this trip for years now, and it was well worth the wait. All the long hours in various horrible jobs were all spent to get her to this little hotel café in this city. She scarcely believed she had made it at all. Any moment now all this would disappear, and she would once more be at school in her room as the rain poured outside, her unfinished paper still unfinished on her computer screen. Instead she woke up these last few days in her cute little hotel room, ancient Rome right outside her door, ready to be explored.
She sipped her lemonade and became lost in thought. She was a 20 year old Geography major, with a minor in Medieval Literature. She was well aware of the oddity of her chosen education path, but it was what she loved, so that made it worth it. She was fully prepared to be unemployed and living in a box one day surrounded with old books about King Arthur and maps. She was a tall girl of average size. She would say she was ordinary looking, but those who knew her said otherwise. Her brilliant red hair made her stand out in a crowd; she looked almost alien in Italy. It was so red it almost looked unreal in some lights. It was short, to her chin, and hung in perfect little ringlets. Her hairdresser used to always tell her she had hair that people paid her to give them, but better. She liked to call it comic book red, like Mary Jane in Spiderman or Jean Gray in X-men. She always thought it was the only part of her appearance that made her unique, like firry hair on a plain Jane doll.
Time goes by wonderfully slow when you have no responsibilities. One month was her limit, and it was just the right amount. A month would give her plenty of opportunities to see everything she wanted to see and not be rushed. The three days she had been there so far had been enjoyable. She had already made friends with the concierge at her hotel and had gone to a few touristy destinations and explored her neighborhood a little. When alone in a foreign land, it is important to make friends with your friendly hotel staff, since they are who you will be seeing the most, living closest to, and asking the most questions. This relieves a lot of the Oh-God-I-am-all-alone nerves. So far, loneliness had not crept up on her and she intended to keep it that way for the rest of the month. This was her time, no need to waste it worrying about other people.
After five days she was lonely beyond belief, craving human conversation more than anything else in the world. She had to make some friends quick before she stared missing her own friends too much and cutting her vacation short. Everyone back home was probably taking bets on whether she was going to do just that. She was back on the patio of her hotel, looking out at her neighborhood like she did every morning. A wave of loneliness suddenly swept over her. This was not the way she wanted to spend her vacation, feeling sorry for herself. The city was so big and beautiful. There had to be someone in her same situation she could befriend. Across the street her eyes fell on the depressed man sitting with yet another untouched coffee. He was there every day, same look on his face, same neglected beverage, always alone. Today his face was as long as the Coliseum is wide. His light brown hair hung in front of his gloomy eyes. Every morning he was there, and every morning she wondered what his story was.
“Alright,” she whispered, “I am going out there and finding a friend, even if it kills me.” She took a step into the street, her ears filled with the shrill horn of a car, and she saw no more.
Stay tuned for the next chapter!
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