quarantadue
Lucia watched Alex interact with the man he had introduced to her as Filippo. Alex seemed to come alive; his face flushed with joy and warmth as the two shared banter and in-jokes, with Filippo eventually retreating to the kitchen to prepare their order.
It was an incredible turn-on to see Alex so animated and social. So normal .
Lucia disliked using that term, but the normality in the exchange between the two men over the counter was so incredibly reassuring. Alex existed outside of the bubble she knew. He had connections to other people, other places, and this realisation opened him up a little more to her heart.
‘Filippo was one of the friends I made when I started high school here. After the . . . accident,’ he explained in a whisper. ‘And now he feeds me every now and then. When I’m awake, of course.’
The sound of shouting coming from the kitchen in the nose-pinching Venetian dialect met their ears. Lucia laughed, her eyes on Alex’s. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘Lunch.’
Alex gave her a wry sideways smile. ‘I haven’t done anything yet. And in any case, Filippo is the one delivering the goods.’
With a paper-wrapped parcel in hand, Alex led Lucia and Foscari through the backstreets of Dorsoduro.
After a few minutes, it was plainly clear to Lucia where they were going. They were headed to the waterfront, along the Fondamenta Zattere ai Gesuati, with a glorious view across the lagoon to the island of Giudecca with its patchwork of terracotta rooftops.
Alex gestured to a bench and they sat down, with Foscari finding the pavers by Lucia’s feet. Nose poised mid-air, he eagerly awaited the feed he knew was contained in that parcel.
Making space between them on the wooden struts of the bench, Alex unwrapped the parcel of fritto misto . ‘Hopefully it isn’t too soggy,’ he said, plucking a deep-fried curled baby octopus from the top of the pile. ‘Can I?’ he asked, gesturing to Foscari.
‘He’ll nip you if you don’t.’ The morsel met the pavers, and Foscari pounced, pawing it to just the right angle in order to devour it. He yipped contentedly, his little tail flicking skyward with glee. ‘You have about thirty seconds to deliver more before he’s on you. And watch out, those little paws are now oily.’
Alex eyed his black jeans and quickly flicked a few extra pieces to the pavers. ‘Better safe than sorry.’ He pushed the opened parcel a little closer to Lucia. ‘Enjoy.’
‘ Grazie .’ She reached across and selected a prawn by its crispy pink tail. It met her teeth – the most perfect balance between fleshy bite and crispy shell – then tongue. The sweetness of the prawn was offset by the batter. ‘ Buonissimo ,’ she said, immediately reaching for another.
‘Filippo. Il maestro della frittura .’
Lucia could tell by Alex’s attempt at a covert smirk that he was pleased with himself and his sense of humour. She found it endearing. Attractive, in fact. Alex had a soft and playful side, and she longed to see more of it.
With Foscari quiet and happy at her feet, the divine view of Giudecca ahead of them and Alex by her side, Lucia found a new sense of comfort. Of wholeness.
Perhaps sensing this, Alex said, ‘I like being with you, Lucia.’ He reached for a golden ring of calamari. ‘You make me feel at ease.’
‘I feel the same way,’ she replied, turning a little to face him. ‘Even though a few weeks ago this would have made no sense.’ She gestured between them.
Alex threw his head back and laughed, his brown wavy mop of hair falling right back into position with his return. ‘There were moments . . .’
Her right hand lifted to pause his train of thought. ‘You don’t need to remind me.’
Taking a prawn, he said, ‘I want to take time to get to know you, Lucia. I have no expectations of you. Just so you know. I really want to be honest with you.’
She nodded. ‘Thank you.’
His openness and willing vulnerability were so refreshing. She could have felt uncomfortable, but she didn’t. Instead, she was encouraged to match Alex’s sharing, his willingness to connect. It was almost intoxicating.
It forced her to take stock of her current situation. Alex had no idea about the sale of Jacopo’s share of the school, let alone Vittorio’s counteroffer, and then there was Benedetta’s book deal.
He’s shared so much, been so generous, yet you’ve shared so little of the true you, Lucia.
Lucia’s internal churning forced her to withdraw into herself. She locked her gaze onto Giudecca across the water to tether her to something real.
‘Are you ok?’ he asked, noting how her energy had shifted.
Alex’s question was the opportunity she needed to let him in. And there on that bench, she felt ready to take the first step in this new direction. Taking a deep breath she said, ‘I’m in a situation at the moment with the school.’
His brow furrowed tightly and he sat up straighter. ‘What kind of situation ?’
‘I don’t own the whole school. Another man, Jacopo Molin, owned half. Just the business, not the building. But Jacopo, who was very dear to me, passed away a few months ago.’
Alex nodded. ‘ Mi dispiace tantissimo , Lucia.’
‘ Grazie . It’s a long story, but I have a ninety-day deadline to come up with the money to purchase Jacopo’s share, or I will lose it to another buyer. Francesco, Mariella and I have been working hard these past months to establish an online portal called the Venezia, Ovunque! project. It’s a way to connect others with our Venice and share authentic language and culture. For a fee, of course.’
The skin under Alex’s eyes had darkened, and he shifted a little to face her. ‘How has that gone?’
‘Fine. It’s brought in some money. But not enough to . . .’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Between my savings, a small loan and what the project has brought in, I am still short.’ After another breath, she said, ‘ But , I have a meeting next week with someone who I hope will help me secure the rest. If they’re true to their word.’
‘A potential investor?’
She shook her head, picking through the fritto misto in search of a prawn. ‘Let’s just call her a creative partner for now.’ Until Lucia had clarity as to what Benedetta might actually offer, she preferred to keep the details close. For now.
He nodded. ‘I hope it goes well.’
‘The deadline to secure the money is nineteen days away. I am without other options at this point.’
‘What happens if you can’t secure enough money?’
‘The lawyer who is settling Jacopo’s estate found someone who has offered to pay double the asking price for Jacopo’s share. If I can beat that offer, the share is mine. If not, this investor takes his half and has full right to half the operations of La Scuola Rosa. Our culture. Our practice. Our history.’ Having located a prawn she brought it to her lips. ‘All potentially vulnerable to one of the vilest businessmen in Venice.’ She articulated “businessmen” with sarcastic air quotes, prawn in hand.
Alex raised an eyebrow questioningly. ‘I hope it works out, Lucia. I really do. And I hope you feel good about this “creative partner” avenue. It sounds like so much is riding on it.’
Dropping the prawn back onto the pile, she grimaced. If there were ever a moment to be unguarded, there, on the bench with Alex and Foscari, was it. ‘It’s not what I want at all, Alex. It will mean being publicly vulnerable. Sharing things about my life and experiences I would rather toss to the bottom of the lagoon and forget about forever. But I have no other way out. As much as it terrifies me,’ her emerald eyes met his, ‘I have to try to find the positives. Otherwise, I’ll just drown under the weight of it all.’