All the People in the World

Chapter 7: Being Reasonable

My room seemed less blue than I remembered it. For the first time that I can remember, this bothered me. It seemed it had faded in my absence, inching closer to what I found to be a very impartial grey. The room had forgotten me. It was open to being inhabited by anyone. I frowned at it and set my suitcase on the bed.

Across the hall I eavesdropped on my mother, showing Ava to her room. Like a good host always does, she over-explained the details of the room, where the bathroom was, and how the sheets would be changed by our housemaid Leta every Monday and Thursday. If she needed anything she could just let my mother know and she would take care of it. Like a good guest always does, Ava denied the need of anything. This was all perfect. More than she could have asked for. My mother said she'd let her get settled and that we'd have dinner in about an hour. We'd eat out on the patio, she figured, since it was such a beautiful evening. Ava assured her that was a great idea. I heard my mother make her way over to my room. I scrambled to look busy. 

"Vincenzo-" she rapped on my door frame. I turned to her, "Yes?"

"Se vuoi uscire mentre sei qui, puoi prendere la macchina di tuo padre," she told me.

"Alfeo ha risolto?" I asked. In his prime my father drove a white BMW E30. It was a convertible with a benched front seat for "facile accesso alle donne" he always said. My mother would roll her eyes and say that the car was the only reason he got a date with her in the first place. It had broken down eventually, however, and been tucked away in the garage to die a rusty and honorless death. I wouldn't have that, so me and our house hand, Alfeo, had spent the better half of my teenage years trying to fix it up. I guess he had finally succeeded in my absence.

"Sì," she smiled and then asked if I had heard what I told Ava about dinner. I nodded. She smirked and said she'd had a feeling I had heard. I told her to "comportarsi" to which she replied "anche tu". She disappeared grinning and I finished unpacking my things. I counted the passing minutes I was away from her, wondering how long was long enough before returning to her.

I made it to thirteen minutes before appearing in her doorway, knocking on the frame timidly. But she was not in the room. I stepped inside, inspecting the changes my grandmother had made. The walls were painted cream, with wooden bars lining and crossing the ceiling. I suppose mine had the same ones, but they looked better in her room. The room was accented with warm greens and soft yellows. Nothing in it was cold, everything in it invited you to stay. If you insist. Through the parted yellow curtains I could see her standing out the balcony. I went to her hesitantly.

"It is alright?" I asked.

She turned back to me, jumping slightly, as if I'd caught her doing something wrong. She nodded, "Yes, it's perfect."

I joined her on the railing. The balcony connected our two bedrooms and looked out over the front of the villa. Off in the distance, past many trees and streams, you could make out the city through squinted eyes.

"My mother said we will eat in about an hour or so," I said, filling the silence.

"Yeah, she told me."

"Oh, I hadn't heard," I lied.

Ava looked out at the trees before us and sighed. She leaned down, cupping her head with her hands. "I can't believe this is how you grew up."

I hadn't thought much of it, but I guess I should have. It was a slow and beautiful way to be raised up. Surrounded by trees and music and literature. People cooked for me and cleaned things I needed cleaned. People had cooked and cleaned for her as well, maybe more so, but no one came in to kiss her head while she slept. And that can make all the difference to a child. I felt very foolish and entitled in that moment. I nodded, "I have been lucky."