Chapter 1 – Bea
“We miss you, Bea!” Aurora and Alessia say over the phone.
“Oh, I miss you too!”
“When are you coming home?” one of them asks.
“In just a few more days. Three more sleeps.” I’m currently in London. My agent set up a small pub tour for me in the U.K. to see how my music would be received here. I started and ended it in the country’s capital.
“Okay, girls. Go get ready for school, and let me talk to Bea,” I hear Marco say in the background. It’s the morning for them, but it’s already the afternoon where I am.
Then, he regained control of his cell. “Hey, baby.”
“Hi, sweetheart. How are you?”
“I’ll be better when you’re home.” I can hear how tired he is in his voice.
“I know. I miss you so much.”
“Are you having a good time, though?”
I’m sitting in the window of my hotel room, which overlooks the bustling city. “Oh, yeah. The crowds here are so fun. Very rowdy but also kind of down for anything.”
“That’s awesome.”
“How is that one child custody case going?”
“Ugh. It’s a bitch. The case or the ex-wife?” I laugh at my own joke.
“You know I’d never call a woman that.” ‘
“I know. I was just kidding.” I guess he’s too tired even for humor. I feel guilty that I haven’t been around for the last month to help him with the kids.
“So, what fabulous gig do you have tonight?”
“It’s called Old Street Records.”
He chuckles. “That sounds kind of perfect for you.” He’s obviously referring to the fact that I work in a record store at home.
“Right? Oh, that reminds me. Did you go and check on Micky?” I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had the time to call her in a week or two. Plus, she’s gotten more serious with her boyfriend, Zephyr, so she’s with him a lot.
“Shoot. I didn’t. I’m sorry—I’ll stop in today if I have the time.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Of course.”
He yawns loudly.
“Are you going to make it?”
“We’ll see.”
“Drink lots of coffee.”
“I will.”
“Did you know that they don’t call it chai tea here?”
“Well, yeah. Chai means tea in Hindi. So, chai tea is just saying tea tea.”
He knows everything. “I wish you would’ve told me that before I got here. The barista I first said it to looked at me like I was nuts.”
“Daddy!” I hear his daughters yell.
“Duty calls.”
“Alright. I love you.”
“I love you too. Knock ‘em dead tonight.”
“I will.” I have the song In My Dreams on my set list, and that’s a song I wrote about him and our relationship, but he hangs up before I can tell him that.
So, with nothing else to do, I wander around the city until I go on stage.
I’ve already gotten plenty of presents for Aurora and Alessia, but I haven’t found the right souvenir to give to him. I want it to be something that’s meaningful and not a silly trinket.
I find a random bookstore and go in.
After searching around for a little bit, I found a book by Italo Calvino, Marco’s favorite Italian author. I pulled it out and tried to read the title, although it’s in Italian. It looks old, so I wonder if it’s a first edition or something.
“Excuse me,” I say to the woman behind the desk.
“Yes.”
“Is this a first edition?”
She scans it into her computer. “Yes.”
“How much is it?”
“One-hundred and sixty-four dollars.”
I take out my phone and open my conversion app. That works out to around $200.
“I’ll take it.”
“So, are you a big Calvino fan?” she asks after pushing her big glasses up on her face.
“Oh, no. Um, my boyfriend is, though.”
“Is he also American?”
“Legally, yes.”
Then, she opens her mouth to warn me that it’s written in Italian.
“But he was born in Italy. In Tuscany, where Calvino died…I think.”
“That’s right.” I’m proud of remembering that correctly.
I continue looking and find a fictitious book that centers on an opera for myself.
“Well, here you go.” She offered to give me the book back in a burlap bag.
“Thank you.”
I’m so excited to give him the gift. It’s exactly what I was looking for. I then decided to get a coffee and read some of my books, which are in English. But I take his out too and put it on the table.
“Bea?” I later hear in the distance.
I swivel my head but fail to anyone I recognize me. But then I see Blakely Tamen. He’s been performing at similar clubs as me, and we’ve run into each other on several occasions. Unlike me, he’s from England.
“Hello!” He’s wearing a patched-up leather jacket, and he has his guitar strapped to his back. He gives me a hug, which is only complicated by the large case on his back and the cigarette in his hand.
“How are you?” I ask after ensuring he didn’t burn my long hair.
He takes one more drag before flicking it onto the ground and stomping on it.
“I’m good. What about you? Whoa…Italo Calvino, huh? That’s deep stuff.”
I look back at it and laugh. “Oh, no. It isn’t for me. It’s for my boyfriend.”
“Ah. That’s right. The Italian one. That makes sense.”
“Mhm.”
I slide my hands into my back pockets. “Are you playing anywhere tonight?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah, Old Street Records.”
“No way. Me too…do you know what would be really awesome?”
“What?” I pull a hair out of my face and shake the rest of it back behind my shoulders.
“If we did a duet.”
“Of what song?”
“What’s that really light and airy original of yours?”
I laugh. “That kind of explains all of my music.”
“The one that goes duh duh nah nah dah dah.” He hums the melody while bouncing his finger up and down.
“Oh! That’s part of the hook of In My Dreams.”
“Would you want to sing it with me?”
I’m not sure Marco would appreciate me singing a song I wrote about intimate parts of our love life with another man, but Blakely is such a good singer, and anyone would be lucky to get the chance to sing with him.
“Sure, let’s do it.”
“Awesome. My flat is just up the street. We can practice there. My girlfriend, Priscilla, will also be there, but she doesn’t mind.”
I’ve met her before. She’s really nice. “Okay. Sounds good.”
The rest of the afternoon is consumed with him listening to the recorded background music I have and, learning the song on his guitar, and also harmonizing with certain parts.
In the end, I’m really proud of the result.