Under the Tuscan Sun
Chapter 1
ARIA
It's only when you lose something you really know what you truly want. Losing gives you a perspective like nothing else. It changes you – it makes you realise what you want, truly. It gives you strength and wisdom. It's like shock therapy, it jolts you awake to your real needs and desires. It clears up the fog on the glass of the window. It's like being brainwashed with pain – it hurts, really bad. But what it gives you is more precious, a new perspective – fresh pair of eyes.
But what hurts more is betrayal – especially when the source of betrayal is unexpected and too close to the heart. It makes you lose faith in everything. You simply want to give up and stay in bed all day, hidden under the layers of blankets with endless tubs of ice cream and slices of extra cheese pizza.
Aria Montgomery was done with everything. She was done hiding in her room in the attic of her parents' house, eating cereals out of box when she didn't feel like ordering in. her brother had surprisingly been very cooperative – he would bring her takeaway and shared his stash of beer with her. But she didn't want that life anymore. She wanted to begin again.
The lies, the betrayal, the fake relationships, and their deceitful existence – she didn't want to think about it even. She swallowed hard as she boarded the bus. She took a seat next to a window at the very end of the bus, and tried to calm herself down again. Take deep breaths she reminded herself.
She'd spent five weeks holed up in the attic, mourning, and beating herself up over everything that had happened. She couldn't bring herself to come to terms with any of it. How could anyone even do that to a friend? But she didn't need any answers anymore. Her life is Rosewood was pretty much an anthology of lies. It was over now. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She didn't know how she fell asleep but when she woke up an hour later, it was still another hour to New York.
She took a cab to JFK, her flight was in another four hours. She was early, but it didn't matter – she just wanted to get away. She was browsing online when it suddenly popped out to her – a photo, and it was like getting a sign from the universe or something. It was like some sort of divine intervention. And within an hour she had used up all her frequent flier miles and booked a one way ticket to Italy. She didn't want to return, not in the near future. Or far.
At JFK, she sat at the Departures terminal, waiting for her boarding call. She bought a small tourist book on Italy, places to visit, things to do, just in case. She was already carrying a pocket English-Italian dictionary. She knew a few basics – the usual, excuse me, hello, etc. She felt like Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday, trying to run away, though her circumstances weren't as pretty. She bought another novel, she already had two in her carry-all. It was not her regular serious literature – it was a chick lit novel, something she wouldn't be caught dead reading. But it couldn't hurt could it, reading something different for once, something that didn't make you want to think as much – or debate. Sometimes, it was nice to be away from the thought provoking – she didn't want all of that.
She killed time browsing through the souvenir shops at the airport. She even bought a I 'heart' NY t-shirt as a joke. It was kind of amusing. It seemed more logical to take souvenirs rather than think of bringing them back, she didn't plan on come back. There was nothing to come back to. Her parents had divorced and moved on long since. Her father now taught at a liberal arts college, somewhere in Vermont, her mother moved to the other side of the country, to San Francisco with her new boyfriend – an accountant who loved literature. She met him at a book reading and they'd connected instantly. Aria didn't trust the authenticity of instant connections anymore – everything goes away with time. Time has a way of killing everything. She hoped her mom would know that.
Her brother had decided to move to Australia and start something with his friend there. Her family was all scattered now. The parts where they had sat together at dinner and chatted away seemed like another lifetime. Coming back from Iceland was probably the worst mistake of their lives – they were living on the wrong continent. She wondered if the one across the Atlantic was the right one.
No matter what now, it was too late to change her mind. She had given up her job, sold off most of her belongings, and shoved the rest into a storage unit in Philadelphia. Her bags contained sandals and her vintage sundresses and a few books she loved too much. She had nothing more to hold on to. She took another deep breath. It was hard not to think of everything all over again. It had cut too deep for her to forget it so soon.
Three hours later she boarded her flight where she gladly exchanged her seat with a family of three who wanted her seat in the middle row, for a window seat. Twenty minutes after the take-off, she fell asleep, and when she woke up with a headache – dehydration. She gulped down the entire bottle of water and slept off again.
About nine hours and several time zones later, across an entire ocean, Aria found herself strangely relieved as she breathed in the warm air outside the Leonardo da Vinci-Fiumicino International Airport in Rome. She had a hotel booking in the city but she only planned on staying for a couple days. Just do a little bit of sightseeing, get acquainted with the culture and the climate. She already felt free, as she looked outside from the cab window, taking in the existence of this city. The eternal city – they called it, it had stood through endless wars, coups, monarchs, and time. Time had probably ripped the city off of its glamour and made it seemingly decadent – but it couldn't kill it. Rome still existed, alive as it was probably when it witnessed Julius Caesar being stabbed in the heart by his best friend Brutus. Aria could imagine what Caesar's last thoughts would've been, as he collapsed from endless stab wounds, mumbling 'et tu, Brute!" She could really use some inspiration from the spirit of this city, learn a thing or two maybe.
She slept straight for fourteen hours. When she woke up, it was morning, the sun shone through the curtains, making the brocade gleam a dark gold. That did nothing to keep the sun out, so she decided it was time to get up and start her day. She took out her notepad and jotted down a few addresses and places she wanted to visit, and a few restaurants around the block. She had scoured every travel website and made her list for Italy, but then she abandoned it halfway thinking it was too much – it would start getting on to her nerves. So she just bought travel guides and a notepad.
She took a bath and got dressed in a vintage pale yellow cotton tunic and khaki shorts and gladiators, she didn't want to get a shoe-bite or trip in heels on the streets. When in Rome, do as the Romans do, she thought it silly, wearing gladiator flats. My sense of humour has gotten awfully worse. She packed her passport and a little cash, and a cotton jacket in her handbag and was good to go.
For the next five days, it was the same, wake up, get ready, and explore the city. On the sixth day she booked herself a studio apartment on AirBnB in Florence and checked out of the hotel. It was time to move on, again.