Chapter 9
ENZO
I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed dancing with someone this much. Or the last time I wished the music would keep playing.
The quartet stops playing, and we come to a stop. I move my hands away and bow slightly.
“What do I do?” Molly asks, her eyes going left and then right, like she's looking for guidance from an invisible teacher.
I merely stare at her.
She curtseys.
It brings another smile to my lips. I'm surrounded by people who perform, who network, who have agendas, who know exactly who I am and what I represent.
Molly doesn't do any of that. There are no games, no carefully chosen words, no attempts to impress me. She's completely herself. She laughs, she asks questions, she finds wonder in everything, and she doesn’t care if she looks out of place in this world.
I told her my name and she didn't react. It might not have meant anything to her, but even if it had, I sense she'd have reacted the same.
Around her, I can just be.
I’m starting to like who I am when I'm with her.
“We didn't get to explore much,” She sounds a little breathless as we start to walk away.
The crowd thickens outside and I glance at my watch. They look like guests leaving the palace. The evening has come to an end, but I don't want it to.
I wish we had more time.
She turns to me, outside the vaporetti stand near Saint Mark's Square. I assume she's taking the water taxi.
“Well, Enzo Knight, I’d better go.”
I want to ask if she's free tomorrow. Show her Venice in daylight.
Have coffee somewhere beside a canal and watch her discover everything all over again.
A part of me feels guilty for even contemplating delaying my visit to Mama, but I want to catch this magic while I can, before Molly and I return to our ordinary lives.
“The evening flew by so fast. It would have felt like days otherwise …”
She chuckles. “I wish we had more time, Enzo.”
I like how she says my name. How it sounds in her voice, on her lips.
“If …” I hesitate, wondering if I should even ask her. I clear my throat. “If you're free tomorrow ... maybe we could explore the rest of Venice? If you had no plans, that is.”
“I fly back tomorrow.”
She's leaving Venice so soon? The news hits harder than I’m prepared for, and leaves me feeling slightly unsettled by the idea of never seeing her again.
If my brothers could see me now, they wouldn't recognize me.
“That would have been exciting …” She seems to be choosing her words. “If I'd had my way I would have had more time here but the tickets were fixed, so ...”
I’m wary of asking for her number. I usually never ask, and given how little I know of this woman, my reaction to her perplexes me.
“That's okay,” I tell her. “You're in the Cannaregio district, you said, and it's a long walk. I don’t mind walking you home—as friends,” I hasten to add. I don't like the idea of her walking home by herself this late at night.
“I'll be fine,” she replies, cheerfully enough, but she doesn't make a move. Instead we both stay where we are, looking at one another.
“I’d rather walk you home and know you got back safely, Molly.”
She exhales, and I get the feeling she’s weighing up the situation.
“Okay, if you insist.”
I relax. I need to know she gets back safely. “I do.”
But, selfishly, I want more time with her.
Half an hour after arriving at the palace, I was considering leaving. Meeting Luca Valizar was the only thing keeping me there.
Since meeting Molly, I’ve barely thought about him.
And tomorrow isn’t an option. She leaves early in the morning.
We walk through the calm streets, crossing bridges over dark canals, the lights from the buildings shimmer on the water. There are still people around, but far fewer than earlier, and the crowds thin out as we walk away from the palace.
Neither of us seems to be in a hurry.
“Back to school?” I ask, wanting to find out more about her.
“Yes. This has been like a whirlwind. I'm sure it will take me days, if not weeks, to get over this.”
“You had fun?”
She swats me gently. “You didn't notice?”
I smile to myself in the darkness.
“Did you?” she asks, after a while.
“I had a good time.”
“Such high praise.”
“Indeed.”
“A man of few words,” she remarks.
“You should meet my brother Matteo.”
“Oh?” She sounds like she's waiting to hear more, but I don't want to talk about my brothers, or anything related to back home. I want to stay here, in this moment.
Soon we arrive at her hotel. From the outside, what I can see in the dimly lit street, it looks a little rundown.
“Well ... goodbye,” she says, albeit a little reluctantly. She moves towards me and drops a gentle kiss on my cheek. “This was a magical evening. One I’ll never forget. Thank you.”
Just friends.
That’s what she said.
“Thank you.” I try to hold the image of her in my head.
“It suits you.” She opens the front door. I sigh in relief. At least this is one layer of safety.
She steps inside, illuminated slightly by the dingy light hanging above her.
“Are you on the FBI's Most Wanted list, or something?”
I frown.
“We've spent the evening together. We've danced together and yet I have no idea what you look like.”
I have a feeling that she wants me to remove my mask, and suddenly, I want to. I put my hands behind my head and begin to untie the ribbons.
Molly’s eyes widen as I remove it, leaving it dangling from my hand. Her eyes twinkle in the dim light and go over my face slowly, like she's taking her time to examine every inch of my face.
“I'm so glad you took it off. I feel like you often don't. Metaphorically speaking.”
Metaphorically speaking.
What is she, psychic?
The dingy little light outside hotel door hangs above us.
“Are you sure this is safe?” I ask, deflecting the conversation.
She gives a soft laugh, then puts out her hand for my mask. “It's safe. The owners are a lovely middle-aged couple.”
She would know. I expect she's seen their family photo albums. Has breakfast with them and has promised to leave them a glowing review.
“This is beautiful.” Her fingers go over the tiny beads.
“Thank you.” I clear my throat. “What time is your flight?” I ask, praying that it’s late in the evening.
“At six in the morning.”
I wince. “Ouch.” And then I have an idea. A wish. “You might miss it. Imagine if you overslept?”
She side-eyes me suspiciously. “I need to be back. My children will be expecting me.”
“Your children.”
“You know what I mean.”
I nod. “I do.” I've become acquainted with Molly-speak.
Neither of us makes a move to leave. This night is over. There is no other moment to squeeze out, or delay. Nothing that can be done.
This is it.
“Goodnight, Molly.” And then I do it. Instinctively. I reach for her hand, lift it to my lips and drop a light kiss on it.
She giggles.
“You’re such a gentleman, Enzo.” She smiles and steps inside, closing the door behind her.
Through the glass window, I watch her disappear inside, as I stand outside, hands in my pockets, feeling something that I can't label. It feels like a dull ache of losing the company of someone who made the world feel a little different for a few hours.
***
It’s noon by the time I wake. I didn’t fall asleep easily, too many thoughts going around in my head.
I’m seeing Mama later this evening, but until then I have nothing planned.
I could have spent the day with Molly.
Molly.
I remember her vividly.
And now I’m left with the absence of her.
I'm supposed to contact Luca Valizar's office, to arrange a meeting, but that isn't important anymore.
Molly is no longer even in the country. I wish we'd had more time together. I wish I'd asked for her number. I didn’t and now it’s too late. Now she’s just a memory.
I can’t dwell on her too much. There are things I need to do, so I get up, shower and dress and drink a cup of coffee, while staring out of my hotel suite. But I’m not really looking at the views, no more than I’m enjoying my freshly brewed cup of coffee that room service delivered.
I pick up my cell phone and find that it’s completely dead, so I plug in the charging cable before stepping out onto the balcony. I hear a noise. It sounds like a lot of notification pings.
What the heck is going on?
I step back into my room and pick up my phone. I jolt back in shock when I see that I have over thirty missed calls, tons of texts. Most from my brothers, and some from friends.
A few from Mama.
Father, too.
The quietness of the morning evaporates.
What's happened?
Father?
It can’t be. Heart racing, I call Matteo.
He answers after a while. “Wassup?” He sounds drowsy.
“What's happened? Is it Father? Is he okay?”
“What the hell have you been up to, Mysterious Man?”
“What?”
Through the rough edges of my mind, I remember Molly calling me that.
“You’ve set the internet on fire. You’re an internet sensation. What the hell did you do?”
It feels like the contents of my stomach just plummeted to my ankles.
“What?”
“Check the links I sent you.”
Another text pops in from Dexter.
“This you, bro?”
He’s forwarded me a link.
I click it.
My heart flips inside my chest.
It’s me.
Wearing my mask, at the ball. Standing in front of a painting.
THE SADDEST MAN IN VENICE
MYSTERIOUS MAN
I scroll frantically. My heart thundering, the sound of blood pounding in my ears.
It can’t be.
I stare in dismay at the same few clips that seem to be everywhere, cut and edited in different ways, captioned and turned into memes. Thousands of people are watching them, commenting on me, trying to work out who I am.
I want to disappear.
Molly took these clips.
She told me they were for her headmistress.
Was that a lie?
I click another one. Same footage. Different edit.
At least I’m masked. Maybe people won’t realize it’s me.
I made a mistake. I let my guard down. I let Venice and the magic and madness of last night get to me.
I should have known better.
I pace the room, my stomach hollow, panic gripping my throat so hard I struggle to swallow.
This is my worst nightmare.
I’ve been a fool.
I told her my name.
I took off my mask.
I trusted her.