shallowdeep

reflections

home

kristi lives in a house that is too big.  she married him for his matinee good looks, but the months and years have driven a wedge.  the space inside, the space within.  growing.  nebulous.

europe is coming soon.  she had not yet begun packing, or even planning.  she just considered it, idyllic.  "it will be nice to get away."  she drank, sometimes in the morning, sometimes not at all.  it was part of the yin and yang.  never fall too deep into anything.  she'd already learned that lesson in love.

rome

kristi sat at the cafe thinking what a nice black and white photo it would make.  the sidewalk, people on the street,  motorbikes.  a cab sprayed diesel exhaust into the air as it sped by, faster than the others.  her camera was at the hotel.  she was in a mood, but not a picture taking mood. 

she talked to jimmy last night.  he seemed more distant than the cable spanning the atlantic.  apparently global warming had no effect on him, she thought.  his questions seemed calculated, and only in response to her lead, "i miss you too kristi."  ice, crystallizing just underneath the surface.  she didn't sleep well.

espresso soothed her nerves and the burning in her eyelids began to subside.  she lit a cigarette.  she didn't smoke back home.  but the pack of gitanes called out to her at the little store.  they reminded her of college.  simpler times.  she looked briefly down at her ellen tracy trousers, admiring them.  she looked up, a gentle breeze rekindling her consciousness of the moment.

a man was walking toward her.  well not her in particular, but up the wide sidewalk toward the small scattering of tables, streetside.  he was handsome, in an awkward but classic way.  dark hair, longer than an american's but not ponytail gross long.  he looked a bit uncomfortable and ill at odds with himself.  he had a strong jawbone.  dark navy button up, khaki chinos, summer shoes.  they looked italian, she thought, then smiled.  well, of course they are dummy.

before she knew what was happening, she said "excuse me,"  in english.  then in clumsy italian.  "can you tell me..."

"oh fuck it," she thought to herself.  picking up again in english.  "can you tell me where the museo e galleria borghese is?"

"galleria borghese?"  his voice a mixture of alarm and warmth.  "yes,"  now smiling.  he had a nice smile.  you are not close."

"how far is it?  can you tell me how to get there?"  now embarrassed at his english, or rather her lack of italian.  this is his country, after all.  how dreadfully inappropriate.  how......american.  then, her eyes flashed at him, if only briefly.  you know that look from an attractive woman that disarms a man?

"i'm guglielmo."

"kristi.  i'm gonna call you g.  you want some coffee?"

posted by: shallowdeep at 05/21/06 05:38 | link | comments (2) |