Chapter 41
ASHA
“I know, I know. You’ve been hearing a lot about how the other cities we’ve visited on this tour were also founded by the Romans, because they loved to conquer and they picked good sites that stood the test of time.
They also built a lot more than the people that came before them, and in stone, so they get credit for being the first ‘major settlement’ because they’re the first ones we have evidence of. ”
We’re still in the bus, bright and early, heading to our walking tour starting point at the Colosseum.
The group seems a little sleepy but still okay for now, when we’re in the air conditioning.
Only half of the group brought water, but there are always vendors around the popular sites selling bottles for a lot of money.
Laura opens the door to the bus and a wave of heat hits me more effectively than if I was getting punched in one of the kickboxing classes I take when time permits. But I slap on a smile and get ready for the hardest tour of the trip.
“This is going to be great,” I say to Callum.
“Your words are trying hard, but the tone is really undermining you,” he whispers.
He’s got some sweat on his brow, the heat already taking its toll and it’s only eight a.m. We came out purposely early to beat some of the harsh summer weather.
“We’re going to get through this,” I say to the group once they’re all out of the bus and have a chance to experience the heat themselves. “Because we’re the best group ever!”
I hope I sound convincing because I am doubtful. As optimistic as I try to be, I would take the cold over the heat every time.
We start the walk, everyone’s feet shuffling over the cobblestones and streets of Rome like they’re zombies, going in front of and around famous monuments, stopping to impart history and knowledge as we go.
The group is so tired and maybe developing heat sickness, so they barely lift their phones for pictures, and the number of selfies has decreased as well.
Callum will be pleased at that.
He’s less pleased when I point out the best photo angles and rouse some of them into a group shot or two to remember this part of the trip by.
“You really won’t remember the heat so much when you get home. You will remember you were vaguely uncomfortable, but more than that, you’ll remember seeing some of the most beautiful sites in Europe.”
I hear grunts, but everyone keeps up while we teach them history. At least the heat has made the parents of the group less mad at us. Maybe the heat will lightly scramble their brains so they won’t remember that stressful night at all.
A girl can hope.
We end the tour at the Vatican, just in time for lunch.
“The rest of the day is yours to explore. Group dinner is tonight at six, and tomorrow we’ll be back here for the Vatican, which we’ll start early because there’s a lot to see, but most of it is inside.
Callum has the lists for recommendations on what to see, eat, and drink like the Romans did.
Enjoy and please stay hydrated and sun-screened in this heat.
I have some if you want to reapply before you leave! ”
“Our babies are off on their last adventures with us.” I rest my head on Callum’s shoulder in sadness.
The same sadness that comes near the end of every tour.
It’s hard to spend twenty days with a group of people, taking care of them and spending so much time with them, and then watch them leave, most likely never seeing them again.
“They’ll be fine.” But Callum puts his arm around me to comfort me when I’m being absurd. “Roshni and Camila look happier together.”
“I know. Did you see Camila help Roshni down those stairs at the ruins? So romantic. So much eye contact and lingering touches.”
“And I’ve seen some of the individual tourists group together and open up, too.”
“My dream of being a bridesmaid at a former client’s wedding is getting closer and closer.” I rub my hands together like a supervillain planning world domination and not a woman planning on how to get an awkwardly fitted, unflatteringly colored dress.
“One day, I’m sure.” Callum nods.
“In the meantime, there is something I’ve never done in Rome that I really want to.”
“What is it?”
“It’s something that I’ve dreamed about but never took the plunge to actually doing when I’ve been here in the past.”
“All right,” Callum says it slowly, probably wondering why I still haven’t said what the activity is. He’s rightfully cautious after what happened in Venice.
Because I know he’ll hate it. That’s why I’m avoiding telling him.
“So you’ll do it with me?”
“You still haven’t told me what it is.”
“But will you do it with me?”
Callum puts both hands on my waist, turning me so I’m looking at him directly in the face. “Once you tell me what it is,” he says slowly.
“Well…the activity is a staple in this city. A cultural experience.”
“Is it starting an empire that spans Europe, Northern Africa, and Western Asia?”
“That seems very ambitious. I was thinking we would start with this thing and then maybe work our way up to imperialism. And then not do imperialism, because it sucks.”
Callum’s shoulder’s sag as he comes to some internal realization. One he’s resigned himself to. “Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph. It’s Vespas, isn’t it?”
The wind rushes through my hair as my Vespa zips along the busy Via del Corso. Sure, it’s hot air, but it’s marginally better than standing in still hot air.
“Weee, Callum! I’m on a Vespa!” I have no idea if he can hear me over the sounds of afternoon traffic on this road, but it feels right to verbalize the weee either way.
“I can see that.” The words are behind me, where Callum is driving along on his own Vespa. Not nearly as excited as me, but he did agree to get on his Vespa, so a smart woman would take her wins and not push.
And I am a smart woman, as much as Rob doesn’t think so.
Since I didn’t have confidence in our Vespa driving ability, especially with the look on Callum’s face when he heard the idea and only begrudgingly agreed, I found a tour to train us on the vehicles and take us around the city.
Callum has been very judgmental toward our poor tour guide and the amount of history that he’s (not) learning from this trip.
Which is unfair since he is an expert, and also in the tour game.
He keeps looking at me, deadpan, whenever we make our (numerous) photo stops.
I just roll my eyes and make him take photos with me in front of the most beautiful sights in the city.
And I get plenty of photos of him on a Vespa. Not for social media; for me and my memories of this trip.
When we’re at the Colosseum he even tells me to hand him the “wee camera” and takes some pictures of me, ordering me around to where he feels is the best shot for me and, more importantly (to him), for the Colosseum.
And then he takes some more of both of us (me and the historic site) on his own phone.
I think he might be developing a little bit of enjoyment for photography, even if I do think I might have created a monster. A very bossy monster to rival the most demanding photographers in the fashion industry.
And I think I love this monster. I love the way he lights up when he talks about history.
The way he pretends he doesn’t enjoy things he’s decided are frivolous but secretly likes doing them, just a little bit and not in a way he’ll admit out loud.
But I know him by now; if he really didn’t want to engage with my shenanigans, he wouldn’t.
And the way he cares for me, making sure I eat and rest with a belligerence that doesn’t usually accompany that task. But it makes him that much more precious to me.
I can’t even be surprised at my love because it feels so right. Even if it isn’t smart.
Not that I have ever let practicality stop me from enjoying things.
But what am I going to do when one of us is fired at the end of the tour?
We meet the group for pizza, and everyone is much happier now that the sun has started to go down. Still exhausted, and a bit more red than they started the day because of their adventures in the sun, but happy to be eating pizza in Italy.
After, we go to a bar with the people who want to go out.
I usually like this part of the job, socializing with a group of interesting people.
But lately, with Callum, all I do is count down the time until we can be alone in one of our hotel rooms. I nod at the tourists’ stories, and lift my wineglass to my mouth, drink, put it down, and repeat.
But the entire time, I want to be alone with Callum. With the man I love.
I’ve never been in love before, and even though my first instinct is to shout it out to the world, so all our tourists, all the tourists in the city, the few locals that stayed behind during the summer heat, and Callum, of course, can hear.
But I don’t know how it will be received by any of those parties, most importantly Callum.
It’s not like we’ve talked about a future.
And maybe he isn’t as charmed by my whimsy as I think he is.
Maybe he’s irritated by it and is ignoring said irritation for the benefits of a tour romance, but he doesn’t mean it to last past Rome any more than any tourist means their travel romance to last.
When the group moves on to another bar, I grab Callum’s hand and tug him toward the hotel, our duty done for the day.
There’s only two more nights until the tour is over; I’m choosing to not say anything until at least then.
So even if I’ve read this wrong and Callum doesn’t care about me, I get a few last nights together to savor when I’m alone.
“Does everyone have their things? You’re going to be across an ocean soon, so this is your last chance to check rooms.” I struggle against a yawn, holding it in until I end the sentence at least. Then I immediately turn and bury my yawn behind my elbow, hoping people think it’s a strange sneeze.
“Unless the thing you forgot is your passport. Then you won’t be crossing any oceans for a while,” Callum says. I know he’s being entirely serious, which makes it even funnier to me.
Too bad I can’t enjoy it because I am hungover and so. Very. Tired.
The last day was a whirlwind of activity.
We dropped the group off at the Vatican and had fun at the Villa Borghese, looking at historic art in a stunning building, then walking through fountains, groves, and water features under the punishing Roman sun.
There may not have been any ostriches, peacocks, or swans walking the grounds anymore, but there were a lot of tourists, making for just about as interesting entertainment.
Then it was last night and everyone wanted to go out.
There were clubs, bars, and late night/early morning pizza.
And no leaving early either, since it was the goodbye party.
But everyone was happy; even the parents who hate us seemed to have a good time and brought their kids to the bar and let them have some supervised drinks.
Then after we all went back to the hotel, there were early-morning shenanigans with Callum in the privacy of my hotel room.
Which means I have had approximately one hour of sleep. This morning, I put some eye drops in and hoped my mirror was lying, and that I didn’t look as worn down as I feel.
The ride to the airport is quiet. Not completely quiet, because I can hear the snores of our wonderful, also tired group.
But the ride is fast, and soon we’re waving off our tour babies as they head for the security line. The goodbyes are bittersweet, and I exchange social media information with whoever wants it. Callum even looks sad to see them go, saying goodbye with genuine regret. I think.
After we’re sure everyone is safely through security, we check ourselves in.
I fall asleep on Callum’s shoulder on the flight back to Edinburgh. But it’s a fitful sleep. Because as lovely as this tour turned out to be, now the clock is counting down to the meeting with Rob, where one of us is going to be fired.