CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“I’m not even sure what to say about what just happened,” said Lauren. “I can’t explain it, but there is a feeling of peace and love, warmth that has swept over me.”
“Same,” said Erin, looking at the others.
The kitchen staff brought out pitchers of water and wine along with several plates of appetizers.
“My chest always feels tight as if something is going to break,” said Trak. “It no longer feels that way. It’s strange, as if the weight on it is gone.”
“Maybe it is,” said Gabriel. They all turned to stare at the man who seemed to have a connection yet divulged. “Think about it. A man who literally preaches peace, non-violence, calls all of us to meet with him. Men who are arguably some of the most violent bastards on this planet. He prays for us. For our rotten souls and touches our flesh, and we somehow are able to breathe.”
“We chose to come here,” said Ian. “Have you all thought about that? We had a lot of countries on our list, but we chose this one and meeting him was arranged on day one. Don’t you think all of this was intentional?”
The entire group stared from one face to another, all of them seemingly perplexed.
“I don’t think it matters,” said Gaspar. “I’m looking at all of you, and you feel the same way I do. You feel relieved. You’re smiling. We’re all lighter than when we left Louisiana.”
“We are,” nodded Nine. “Lighter is the right word for it. We need to remember this feeling, hold onto it. That man told me that I made a difference. I didn’t think I was doubting that until he said it.”
“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, dinner is ready.”
They followed the chef inside to be greeted by tray after tray of pasta dishes, veal, fish, and much more. Filling their plates, they took their seats along the two massive dining tables, laughing, joking about their adventures thus far.
When the dishes were cleared, desserts were served with strong Italian coffee. It didn’t take long for the yawning to begin, and slowly, people made their way to their rooms. When everyone was gone except Nine, Ian, Gaspar, and Ghost, the men raised a final toast to one another.
“To Matthew and Irene,” smiled Ghost. “For giving us the gift we didn’t know we needed.”
With the smell of bacon wafting through the villa, the team was up and ready to attack their first full day in the city.
“I want to see the Colosseum,” said Erin.
“Me too!” said Lauren. “Then maybe lunch and some shopping.” The men stared at one another, nodding. This was a good deal. A half-day doing what they wanted to do anyway, then a half-day doing what the girls wanted to do.
With breakfast done, they loaded up and found a place closer to the city to park and walk. Passing beneath the Arco di Tito, they walked along Via Sacra, Rome’s ancient central avenue. The stones, hundreds of years old, were mesmerizing. They walked beneath the Arch of Constantine and then made their way inside the Colosseum.
“It’s unbelievable,” whispered Ella. “Can you imagine being sent out to fight? Cheering crowds praying for your death, not your life.”
“Sometimes they cheered for the gladiators,” said Faith. “They were seen as heroes. They were like professional athletes today who have followers and fans. The gladiators did as well. Only they had to face other, sometimes more violent gladiators, lions, tigers, rhinos, all sorts of strange beasts they’d never seen before.”
“We’ve actually learned a great deal from them about fighting and warfare,” said Ian. “We’re all taught pieces of this history while in training.”
“I feel as though I can hear them,” said Dex. “It’s like the echoes of their screams are still here.”
“Are we hearing ghosts?” whispered Lauren, looking around the space.
“Fuck, I hope not,” said Nine. “That’s the last thing I want is a thousand dead gladiators haunting my vacation.”
They could have spent hours walking through the ruins but left the Colosseum and walked to the Basilica di San Clemente. Built in the 300s over a pagan temple and Roman house, it was decorated with magnificent frescoes and mosaics.
“I just can’t imagine how long it must have taken to build this,” said Grace. “Think of the detail on the mosaics. It’s just mind-boggling.”
“They definitely don’t do things like this anymore,” nodded Ghost. With more than enough choices for restaurants, they ended up choosing three separate restaurants lined up in a row. They asked for outdoor seating, ensuring they were all close to one another.
While Tailor and Alec ordered one of everything off the menus, the girls were planning their shopping route.
“There are a few shops right across the street,” said Sara. “I want to pick up a few things for the kids.”
“Me too,” said Lena. “We’ll be right back.”
While the men waited for the food to be delivered, most of the girls walked across the street. When a group of young men began making wolf-whistles and cat-calls, blowing kisses at the women, the men all turned, frowning.
“Stand down, big boy,” grinned Taylor. “It’s very common for Italian men to speak to women that way.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” frowned Tailor, standing and walking toward the other side of the street.
“Bella! Bella, wait!” called one of the young men. “Come with me!”
“You wanna repeat that, little man?” growled Tailor. The young man turned, staring up, horrified at the dark figure over him.
“Scusé,” said the young man, stepping back. “I meant nothing by it. They are beautiful women. We were just complimenting them.”
“Well, don’t,” growled Tailor. “They’re all married.”
The young men nodded, walking away as Lena stood with her arms folded, staring up at her husband.
“You’re welcome,” he grinned.
“Tailor! Those young men were doing nothing except complimenting us. Yes, it’s different than back home, and we would see it as disrespectful. They do not. It’s normal here.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” he said emphatically.
“Honey, you’re going to have to get used to it,” said Erin. “Haven’t you noticed all the men turn and stare, smile, blow kisses? They mean nothing by it. It’s harmless.”
Tailor just stared at the women as they walked into the shop. The man behind the counter whistled, saying ‘bella’ over and over again. Tailor could only growl beneath his breath, watching his wife and the other women laugh and enjoy the attention.
He walked back across the street and took his seat, frowning at the other men.
“Thanks for taking care of that,” said Ian.
“I didn’t take care of shit,” he muttered. “They yelled at me. The girls! They yelled at me. They said it was flattering, that those kids meant nothing by it.”
“I do not like it,” said Trak.
“Yeah, well, tell your wife that. She thought it was ‘cute.’ I don’t understand women. Never have, never will.”