Chapter 43
After my last retest,Shonda meets me at a local wine bar to celebrate. It’s been a hectic time, and I am so relieved that it’s over.
“To you, for kicking ass these past few weeks,” Shonda proposes, lifting her glass.
“To it being done,” I add.
We both sip the fruity house red we ordered. “How do you think this last one went?” she asks as we put our glasses down. This last test was for Innovation and Corporate Entrepreneurship.
“Better, I think. Professor Wang said she’d have my grade ready by noon tomorrow.” Then I’ll have a full transcript, the incompletes replaced by grades—assuming I passed this last test. Then I’ll focus my energy on finding an internship. “I can’t thank you enough, Shonda. Honestly, I couldn’t have done it without you. Thanks for keeping me on track and keeping at it, even after your term was over.”
“Yeah, about that.” Shonda sets her glass down on the bar top. Her eyes are on the stem of her wineglass as she rolls it around. “There’s something I wanted to ask you.”
“Okay,” I say slowly.
“Look, I hope you aren’t mad, but I was talking to my mom recently, and I told her about how we’ve been study-buddies together.”
“Study-buddies?”
“I’m cute, I know.” She flashes a grin at me. “Anyway, my mom is a psychologist, and I had kind of wondered if…” Shonda wrinkles her nose. “I wondered if there was something that she would recommend to help you. Aside from the schedule blocking and keeping a notebook on hand, the stuff you already do.”
“Okay,” I repeat.
“She said you could talk to a doctor about being tested for ADHD.”
My eyebrows go up. “I don’t have ADHD. I’m forty-two. When my kids were in school, we were taught to look for signs.”
“Mom says it went undiagnosed in girls a lot because we don’t often have the more obvious signs like hyperactivity. Or it could be a new thing. Perimenopause can cause more pronounced symptoms. And you have a lot of coping mechanisms you use already, so I’m not saying it’s a problem for you. But ADHD after all this time is more likely than you might realize.” She smiles at me. “Sorry, I sound like my mom. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You’re pretty great as it is. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have made it here.”
My brain starts spinning as I remember the scattered focus, the lost keys, all the way back to last summer when I missed a flight when I got confused about the dates. Could ADHD be the explanation for all of that?
“I…I’ll think about it.”
“Cool,” Shonda says. There’s a moment of silence between us before I turn and elbow her.
“Perimenopause? Really?”
She laughs. “Sorry.” And then she changes the subject to something I’m even less excited to talk about. “Have you talked to Professor Offredi at all?”
I groan and slump down. I’ve been trying not to think about it, and my studies were a great distraction. “I haven’t. I don’t know what to say to him. Sorry I got you fired? I miss you?”
When Shonda doesn’t answer, I look up at her. She gestures forward. “That sounds about right. Why not?”
“Because…because what happened was awful. You didn’t see how distraught he looked. He loved his job and because of me, it was taken away from him. It’s going to haunt me for a long time, I think.” Every time I closed my eyes since that day, I’ve seen Santo waiting for me at the top of the stairs, and the guilt hits me hard.
“And yet he risked that job for you. He knew what he was getting into.”
“That doesn’t make it any better.”
Shonda shrugged. “How about this: you might never see him again.”
My heart clenches. That is true. Santo would move out because why would he stay in his apartment if he wasn’t working for the university? He has his villa, he has Bell, and I am surprised he hasn’t left already.
Before, when I thought about how I was leaving for my internship, I always knew I’d see Santo when I came back for the fall term and commencement. Now he won’t be here.
I don’t have to say anything; Shonda gives me a look of sympathy. “Sorry, girl.”
We order another round, and I get Shonda talking about her first week at her internship. It is nice to hear about something going right, and I try to be a good friend and listen. After we drain our second glasses, we part ways, and I trudge back home.
It had been a sunny day, the kind that heralds spring, though still chilly. The sun had set while I had drinks with Shonda, though it was still early for dinner, at least in Italy.
At home, I shed my coat and checked my phone. There was discussion in my group chat with my friends about planning our next weekend together. Jade had been given a new work assignment that had her traveling, plus with Sara bouncing between Austin and London and Tessa frequently traveling from the Algarve to Paris, seeing each other once a month wasn’t sounding so feasible anymore. And yet we hadn’t canceled a weekend until my school fiasco.
That made me feel guilty too.
I am scrolling through the messages when Oliver barks next door.
I freeze, listening.
“Taci!” Eva shouts, and after a few more barks, Oliver simmers down.
I finally catch up—the front-running plan is for us to go to London—and type out a message—I’ll have to see what the career center says tomorrow. I don’t think I can commit to anything right now.—when Oliver barks again.
I spin in my seat, facing the wall between Eva’s apartment and mine. Is Santo pleasuring himself? Oh my god, does he have a woman over?
I put my face in my hands, tears forming in my eyes. If I couldn’t find an internship outside of Rome, or if I had to take a research position, was this what life was going to be like? Even if I did move, was a dog barking ever going to not make me think of Santo?
Oliver quiets. I put on some music and tried to think of anything other than what might be going on two doors down. I open my fridge and survey the contents, debating about what to cook for dinner. Nothing sounds good, so I close the fridge and open the pantry. I have some crackers and salami, which makes me think of dining in the kitchen of Santo’s villa. I slam that door closed.
Oliver barks again. I can hear it, even over my music.
“Goddamnit Oliver!”
I stomp toward my door, anger and frustration driving me, though I’m not sure if I am going to yell at Eva or Santo.
I throw open the door and a meow greets me. I stare down at Zola, who blinks up and purrs.
When I make no move, she raises one paw, batting at the air, and meows again. When I bend down, she sits back on her haunches and lets me pick her up under her arms, pulling her into a cradle against my chest.
“Hi, Miss Zola,” I say, tears clogging my throat. “What are you doing out here?” I glance at Santo’s door, and there’s a bottle of wine on the floor in front of it. I walk over and pick it up. It’s a Prosecco, of course. When I stand, I notice there are envelopes taped to the door. Five envelopes, and they all have my name on the front in Santo’s blocky handwriting.
I bend over to put the wine bottle down again, freeing up a hand to pull an envelope off the door. It’s not sealed, so with Zola in the crook of my arm, I’m able to use both hands to open it. Zola ignores me jostling her around.
The envelope falls to the floor as I pull the two sheets of folded paper out. The top page is a bio printed off Sothebys’ website. There’s a blonde woman’s headshot, and the text at the top reads:
Danette Lévesque
Senior Vice President, London
There are a few paragraphs detailing her background and highlighted is the part saying that Danette has an MBA from my university. Beneath that is a handwritten note from Santo.
Worked with me on Procurement research.
The second page is a printout of a job description for a three-month finance internship in Sothebys’ London office.
I let the paper fall to the ground and pluck another envelope off the door. A student from two years ago who, like me, had Santo for a business fundamentals professor and now worked at Patek Philippe, the watch company, and an opening for a supply chain internship in Zurich. The next was merchandising at Mercedes’ F1 team. Then a perfumer in Paris and a hotel chain based in Edinburgh.
I clutch Zola to my chest. What has Santo done?
It takes me a minute to raise my hand and knock once on the door. It opens immediately. Santo stands in the doorway, a hand bracing against the wall.
“I called some of my former students and asked around. You would still have to apply and interview, but I gathered some options for you. It’s no more than the career center would have done for any other student.”
I swallow. I have an appointment with the career center tomorrow. While most of the students find positions through the school, it’s not a requirement. Some students reach out to companies on their own or apply through a network of International MBA universities.
Santo had done some legwork for me. He was giving me a nudge, trying to make up for our mistake.
“Thank you,” I say.
Santo bends down to gather up the papers I’ve dropped, and instead of swapping his cat for them, he moves back and gestures me inside.
The door closes behind me, and I look around his apartment. His table is covered in books and papers, and I raise an eyebrow.
Santo rubs his hand across his beard. “I need an apartment with an office, I think. My previous place, the one you saw in October, had more space, but I gave it up because I had my office at the school, and I never used the extra rooms.” His chuckle is dark.
“I’m sorry you lost your job.”
Santo’s gaze meets mine. “I know you are. But it’s not your fault.” He sighs, eyes shifting away before coming back to me. “Some days, I’m more angry at the university, and some days, I’m more angry at myself. But it’s getting better.”
“What will you do?” The internships on the door had been all over Europe, but none had been in Italy.
Santo folds his arms across his chest, leaning against the wall. “I was going to go to Castello and work on my book.”
“You were? Past tense?”
A smile flickers across Santo’s face, and he raises the stack of papers in his hands. “Every former student I talked to asked if I was going to consult more now. But one of them asked if I would consider joining a mentorship program. I’ve been pursuing both options, but my preference would be to go wherever you go. If you’ll have me.”
He’s dead serious now, earnest as he watches my reaction. Zola meows, and I realize I’m squeezing her too tight. Gently, I let her jump to the floor where she raises her tail and rubs against Santo once before trotting up the stairs to her loft.
“What does that mean?”
“In my dreams, you get the internship that excites you the most. Wherever that takes you, I rent an apartment with enough room for the three of us. I’ll finally finish my book. Maybe I’ll consult, maybe I’ll mentor, maybe I’ll do nothing.”
I give him a skeptical look.
“Unlikely,” he allows. “But a possibility.”
“You would make a great mentor,” I add. “You should do that. But I have to come back here in the fall.”
“Yes. That is why I will leave my options open.”
“I was going to go back to Texas after graduation,” I warn him.
Santo reaches out, tugging my braid. “By then, we will be wildly in love with each other, and I’ll follow wherever you go,” he repeats. “If you’ll have me.”
I nod and throw my arms around Santo’s neck. I might already be a little bit in love with him. No one has ever seen so much potential in me like he has.
Santo wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in tight. We stand there, his hand gently stroking my back and me inhaling deeply, breathing Santo in. His embrace feels so good, and I love the dreams he has for our future.
When we pull apart, Santo grins at me. “Why don’t we open the bottle and celebrate?”