One day I woke up and my eyes felt like sandpaper; rough and dry. The feeling in my head was like I had been punched by a giant. My body, my arms, my toes; everything hurt. I sat up on the edge of the firm mattress, high enough that my feet still dangling, in the hotel room for several minutes,
"What did I do last night in the city of Rome?"
The weather appeared to be grey and damp as I looked through the gap of the pencil pleat curtains. I traipsed all over the room, picking up my wet clothes from the beige carpet with difficulty; The Negroni was still circling in my veins. I heard two people arguing behind the walls as I searched for my phone under the chair. Words I couldn't make out but the accent was familiar, either Aussie or Kiwi. I looked at the time on my phone and my eyes shot full alert. I was late for the train; Roma Termini to Nice.
A young woman stormed past and brushed against my back when I closed the door out in the hotel hallway, knocking over the small navy carry-on beside my left leg. She made no effort to turn around or even apologize over her shoulder. She marched on and dragged her suitcase awkwardly on its side as the wheels sat idle facing upwards. she seemed angry, probably more so because of her vibrant orange-red hair I grabbed hold of my suitcase as a man popped out of the room next door,
"I'm sorry Jenny, please don't be mad. It just happened. Sorry!"
He pleaded with a cry standing shirtless in the middle of the hallway with his waving in the air.
"We through Jai! No more! Make your own way back to London!"
She yelled viciously in a distinctly Australian accent. She stepped into the elevator without looking back.
"Buongiorno signore,"
The tall thin desk clerk said with a smile hidden under his creepy dark, bristly mustache. My head was throbbing as I placed the key card on the counter.
"Si...check out, ah...per favore."
I said brokenly rubbing my forehead.
I hopped in the backseat of the cab out in the street, and in the corner of my eye spotted the monochrome suitcase that knocked over my navy carry-on, and there she was, standing beside the bulldozing valise in plain jeans and a t-shirt with her long wavy bright hair floating loosely behind her neck as the cool morning breeze blew towards her. She was flicking through her phone with her thumb in one hand and holding a cigarette close to her mouth between her index and middle finger in the other. It was hard to get a good look at her face as the taxi pulled away and merged into the traffic of the Italian capital.
Somebody told me that Roma is the world's second worst city for drivers, they spend their time stuck in traffic, and recalling this made me very anxious as time was against me; fifty-Five minutes to board the train to France. The driver promised venti minuti to the station. The women scootered carelessly in between the cars and lanes on the road in their attractive office suits and summer dresses as we drove by the 18th-century Trevi Fountain and the Piazza di Monte Citorio. The rays of the sun began to break through the gaps of the overcast clouds. It was a pleasant view as the sun glared over the landmarks of human civilization. The cabby had kept his promise and we arrived at Roma Termini within twenty minutes. There were people crawling all over the station like ants; flowing over the earth with excitement as they wheeled their carriage. I skidded and slid through the open spaces of the moving people and with luck I made it to the frecciabianca platform with the ticket in my hand as I presented it to the conductor.
The high-speed arrow-headed train traveled north of the country like a centipede with circular frames and axles. It squirmed through the Italian suburbs and then it swept smoothly beside the countryside of pure green fields with stone cottages, some half-timbered on the Apennine hills. The journey felt like a peaceful meditation and it eased my disturbing headache. Five hours to travel to Genova then change over to my final destination. Five hours of sitting in one place would have been a lifetime pleasure with the view of the scenery I had but I needed to stretch my legs and made my way to the Freccia Bistro for a drink. I moved slowly down the aisle and stepped over a young boy who sat on the floor blocking the passageway. He slid his finger rapidly on the iPad screen. I took a glance at his parents who were snoring, their heads tilted sideways and their mouths half-opened. I entered the restaurant carriage and walked over to the bar, catching a glimpse of bright orange-red hair on the way. She was sitting alone by the window with her monochrome suitcase resting under the table.
I stood at the bar as the waiter filled my pint from the tap. He held the glass at a forty-five-degree angle. When the fresh cold beer reached the tip of the rim, he lowed the glass and finished filling it up at a ninety-degree angle. I took a good mouthful in appreciation of his skills. The bistro carriage was crowded with Italian families, in deep conversations over banquettes; the only seat that was not taken up was opposite the girl. I made my way over to her table. She spun around and stared at me bizarrely after I gently said"Excuse me". Her eyes were a lovely shade of hazel green with a tear that slid down her cheekbone.
" I'm sorry.....I didn't mean to startle you."
I said nervously and took a step back with my right leg. She wiped the tear away.
"I know you. I saw you at the hotel lobby last night with those Irish boys." That explained my headache, and flashes of the night with unfamiliar pale faces begin to appear in the back of my mind. I asked her if I could take up the free seat and she scanned across the carriage before nodding.
There were several minutes of awkward silence between us as the wheels rolled smoothly over the tracks. In synchronization, we looked at each other, smiled and turned our heads to observe the beautiful Italian landscape. I felt the urge to break the thick ice and was curious to know all the drama that played out in the hallway and maybe offer her the chance for an apology. "How was your experience in Rome?" I asked facing to the side of her face."One of the worst trips I've had." She said plainly without turning."I see. Especially after this morning, I could imagine." I said jokingly. She shifted her thin body around as I took a swing of my beer. "You were next door to us." She paused for a second and brushed the side of her orange-red hair back with her hand.
"I didn't mean to push you when I walked past you. I'm sorry"
She paused again and placed her attention on the brown surface of the polished wooden table and let out a deep breath,
"Just my boyfriend and I or ex-boyfriend now had another episode." There was a sign that she was about to cry. I tapped her lightly on the side of her arm and she lifted her lovely green eyes,
"It's okay. Apology accepted. It sucks you had a shitty voyage. Can I get you a drink?"
I asked with sympathy.
" I definitely could use a drink."
I finished what was left in the pint with an appreciation of her apology.
Her phone vibrated on the table; buzz, buzz, buzz. Every time she picked it up and read the notifications, she would shut it off with frustration; it was Jai. She explained that she was waiting for confirmation in Genova due to the unexpected reservation. It only took two beers for her to open up about her situation. It was certainly clear that her man cheated, on several occasions. She had found evidence after reading messages with images of half-naked English girls on his phone. I gave her some encouragement that Genova was a beautiful place between the sea and the mountains for self-reflection. I had a sudden urge to share a personal quotation with her, maybe in the hopes it would ease her mind." When you travel alone, you learn a lot about yourself. You push the boundaries to explore the unknown. When you travel with a partner, you'll discover their true character." She looked up from staring at the half-pint and smiled with a hint of hope that she would move on from an emotional six-year relationship...
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