Viradecthis Steiner, a recent high school graduate, moves to Italy in hopes of attending college there, and getting away from the only family she's ever had: her grandparents. The job she lands herself with first...is a job with the Volturi: replacing Gianna.
All Flesh is Grass
"'All flesh is grass' is a much quoted phrase interpreted to mean that human life is transitory. It has been used as the title for various works." -- Wikipedia
Thursday, June 12th, 3:45pm
"Viradecthis Steiner?" The customs officer cocked his eye at the pale, brown haired girl, glancing over her with one eye on her passport.
"Yes," Vira nodded, biting her lip. She fiddled with the belt around her waist nervously. The customs officer raised his eyebrow, but put her passport down and stamped it.
"Enjoy your stay in Italy," he said, already glancing to the next person in line and handing her back her passport.
"Thank you," she mumbled grasping the handle of my suitcase and walking towards the airport exit, her heavy duffel bag bouncing conspicuously against her side. A foreign nervousness emanated from her; after all, this was her first time living alone.
She stood timidly at the side of the road, waiting for a yellow taxi. Her hand slipped inconspicuously into her pocket and fingered the few hundred euros in there.
Friday, June 27th, 2:29pm
Eighteen year old Vira shuffled through the notebook, keeping it at a safe distance from her coffee cup. Her movements seemed almost loud and clumsy in the small and quiet cafe. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out her cell phone.
2:29 P.M. Plenty of time until dark...such a pity she had nothing to do to amuse herself. The Universita' Populare did not open until September 2nd and she had no friends to visit in the small city of Saline, Italy.
The doorbell of the cafe tinkled, and Vira stared at the woman who had just come in. She had long, brown hair and the fairest skin Vira had ever seen. She wore a form-fitting long-sleeved blouse, and black dress pants. Black gloves covered her hands and her eyes were the oddest shade: a wild violet, as if she wore red contacts over bright blue eyes. The woman turned and smiled a close-lipped smile at Vira.
"You've got a good hand," the woman noted at Vira's immaculate handwriting sprawled all over the notebook. She smiled at the compliment.
"Thank you," she said. "Is there something I can help you with?" She asked, noting that the woman was standing right in front of her.
"Yes, you may help me," the woman said. Vira did not miss the subtle inflection the woman placed on the word 'you'.
"How may I help you?" Vira reworded her question. The woman's smile grew.
"I come here with an offer, Vira." Vira started when the woman said her name but could not speak as the woman continued. "But, this is hardly the place for it. Perhaps we can meet elsewhere in a more private setting? I promise; it will be worth your time."
Entranced by the woman's violet eyes, Vira heard herself distantly agreeing and saying the name of a restaurant she frequented.
The woman nodded once. "Very well. We shall meet there this evening at eight. Please, do not be late." With a last smile, she pivoted gracefully and left.
Vira could do nothing but stare in numb shock after her.
Friday, June 27th, 7:45pm
Vira glanced up at the clock tower from the bench she was sitting. Approximately fifteen minutes left until she met that mysterious woman.
What did she know about that woman, anyway? And how had that woman known her name? It wasn't written anywhere in the office and Vira was sure she had never seen her before. That face was unforgettable. Could the woman have been following her? But there was nothing about Vira that could warrant such an action. Could it be because she was a foreigner? An American? She was not well-connected. In fact, no one would miss her if she disappeared. Her blood brother had disappeared to Purdue three years ago, and they had never talked on the phone since. Her mother and father had been married, once, and that was when she and Wesley had been born. Then her father left her mother, and her mother left Wesley and Vira with their grandparents in America. Later in life Vira found out that both of her mother now lived in Italy, and her father in Germany. She had three half-siblings, two from her father and one from her mother. She had never met them. Every month or so, she and Wesley would receive two checks in the mail.
There was nothing about Vira that truly stood out, except perhaps her name. She had brown eyes, and brown hair.
What could this woman, dressed in clothes that looked tailor-made for her and an air of power around her want with someone like me?
Perhaps it was a joke. Vira would not be surprised to learn it was. But, remembering the woman, the power behind her words and the vivid violet eyes, Vira knew her decision was made for her.
What was she doing waiting for a woman like that? Right now, Vira needed a job. A job to pay for her apartment until the Universita' Populare opened in two months.
-
Ten minutes before eight found Vira seated nervously before the windows of her favorite restaurant. Different "What if?"s ran through her mind as she anxiously tapped her foot against the wooden floor. She played with the ice in her water before downing the drink in one gulp.
Vira drank half the glass and glanced at her watch just in time to see the minute hand jump to the twelve.
"Good evening."
Vira jumped at the silken, soft voice just over her shoulder and turned quickly to see the woman from that morning smiling her close-lipped smile.
"You're—" late. But, no, she wasn't. She was exactly on time. Vira swallowed the last word but the woman's mile spread, as if she had heard the unspoken adjective.
"How are you?" she asked politely and this time, when she spoke, the fluorescent lights caught on her straight, white teeth. Vira felt a sudden discomfort at the sight of those perfect teeth but she quickly squashed the feeling. Afraid of teeth. Ridiculous.
"Fine, thank you. Did you want something?" Vira asked, motioning to the waiter.
"I don't want anything, thank you. I'm not thirsty anymore." The woman laughed her tinkling laugh. She sat at the stool next to Vira.
"What is your name?" Vira blurted. The woman laughed again.
"It's true; I haven't introduced myself, have I? Where have my manners gone? My name is Chelsea." She smiled and Vira found her attention again riveted on her perfect teeth.
"Chelsea," Vira tried the name. "A pleasure."
Chelsea smiled, and Vira felt safe. "Now, I'm sure you're wondering what was so important as to meet with a stranger, correct?"
"Well…yes," Vira admitted, though she felt comfortable around Chelsea already. Chelsea laughed.
"I represent a group who requires someone of your skills. We're currently searching for an efficient and responsible secretary. I've been watching you for a few weeks and I believe you are precisely the person we need. You seem to be in need of a job --you've been looking for one, no?-- and need to pay your rent. Please, wait until I finish." Chelsea raised a hand and Vira quickly closed her mouth again. "We're based in Volterra and we will pay for travel costs. Housing, electricity and plumbing would also be paid by us. Your biweekly salary would be €1500. I do hope that would be enough to get you through."
Vira quickly did the math. If she made €1500 biweekly, that meant for a total of €6000 to be made in total this summer. €6000 in eight weeks?
Oh. My. God.
"God isn't the one giving you the money," Chelsea laughed. Too late, Vira realized she had spoken aloud. "But maybe He did have something to do in choosing. He is gracious, after all, isn't he?"
Vira could do nothing but gape at her.
"I can see that this is a lot for you to take in. I'll leave you my card. Feel free to contact me at any time. I don't sleep." She laughed as if at an inside joke, bid farewell, and swept gracefully from the chair.
Vira stared at the slim rectangle. A shaky hand brushed the raised lettering with Chelsea's name and phone number.
Her decision had already been made.
