Betty Bumped into a Friend in London

Emerging from the Underground's staircase into a bitterly cold wind, the damp chill slicing through her, Betty swung her briefcase and walked briskly, threading between the throngs of pedestrians swirling around her. A misplaced step landed on a man's foot, throwing her off balance, and the man turned and grasped her by the arm to prevent her from falling.

"Betty!" he said. "Is that you?"

Betty looked up at his face, "Gio?" She flashed a brilliant smile at him, blinding him, it was the first time he'd seen her without braces.

"Betty," said Gio. "What are you doing here?"

"Work," said Betty. "I'm working here!"

"Me too," said Gio. "And, unfortunately, I have to go, they're expecting me and I'm already late."

"Gio, I want to talk. Can you meet me for coffee later?"

"Not today," said Gio. "Some other day. I have to run."

"It has to be today," said Betty. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Oh," said Gio. "I thought ..."

"What?"

"I thought you said you worked here," said Gio, "in London."

"No," said Betty. "I mean, I am working here, but just this week. I fly out tomorrow afternoon."

"Well, have a safe trip," said Gio, turning to walk away.

"Gio, I want to talk to you," said Betty, running after him and grabbing his arm.

"Really?" said Gio. "And yet, you never call me."

"I wanted to, Gio," said Betty, "but I've been busy, I've got a lot going on, a budding career, you know, stuff."

"Quack," said Gio, humorlessly.

"Excuses. I get it. Pardon me."

Gio stood silently, studying Betty's face intently, until she became uncomfortable from the scrutiny.

"Please, Gio, let's get together. Can't you make time today?"

"I don't know."

"I miss you and I want to catch up."

"I guess I could do it," said Gio. "After seven. I could rearrange some things. But ..."

"What?"

"Do you really want to talk to me?" said Gio.

"Of course I do, meet me at seven!" said Betty. "Where?"

"By the fountain in Trafalgar square," said Gio.

"Great," said Betty. She tried to hug him but she bumped her briefcase into his arm instead because he was already backing away.

"Trafalgar square at seven," said Gio, then he disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

Betty kept her eye on the clock all afternoon, its hands turning slowly, creeping ever slower as the hours went by. By five she had all her papers in her briefcase and her coat lying on top, ready in the chair by the door, ready to grab the minute she could leave, which was the moment the photographers and models left the studio.

Suddenly a commotion arose and two of the models barged into her room. They were having a fit because several pieces of clothing were missing. Betty made some calls to locate the items and soon sorted out the problem. Unfortunately the delay pushed the end of the session back by an hour.

Betty cursed that she had not thought to get Gio's phone number. She had no way to contact him and let him know of the delay. She realized she didn't know where he worked or lived or anything about him. She was completely at the mercy of the photographers. The success of her whole trip depended on this shoot and she couldn't leave until it was complete.

Betty picked up her cell phone and dialed.

"Daniel," said Betty into his voice mail. "Do you have Gio's number? If you have it, call me."

Finally the session was done and she was able to break away, dashing to the Underground. She ran down the steps, shoved herself into the subway car, heedless of the rush hour lineups and pushing ahead of others, yanking her briefcase through the crush of other passengers. When she reached the Charing Cross station she leapt out and dashed up the stairs, running across traffic and into the square. Panting and red-faced, she reached the fountain at seven twenty and circled it at a run, then again, then walked around it another half a dozen times.

Gio was not there.

Twenty minutes, thought Betty, just twenty minutes but it might as well be a lifetime.

Betty walked around the square, the fountain, the square, the fountain, and then sat on a bench where she could survey the entire square. Maybe he was delayed, she thought, even more than she had been. He didn't have her number either. At first it was busy, but within an hour the crowd thinned. She could easily see all the people, coming and going, and no one turned into Gio.

Now, he was way overdue. Betty reviewed what she knew about Gio. She knew nothing. She had no idea how to contact him. She found it unbelievable that Gio, her Gio, wouldn't wait a mere twenty minutes for her. Or, that he wouldn't come at all. It was so unbelievable that suddenly, contacting him became the most important thing in the world for her to do.

"Daniel," said Betty, getting his voice mail again. "Why didn't you call me! Call as soon as you get this message."

About half an hour later Daniel called Betty.

"Hi, Betty. Sorry, I just got your messages."

"Daniel, I saw Gio!" said Betty, skipping small talk.

"How is he?" said Daniel.

"I don't know," said Betty.

"What?" said Daniel.

"I saw him," said Betty. "But I didn't talk to him. Then he was supposed to meet me two hours ago but he's not here! Do you have his number?"

"No," said Daniel. "I don't have it. I just have his old one."

"Can you get it?" said Betty. "I need it right now."

"How?" said Daniel. "I haven't seen him in over a year."

"Go to the deli," said Betty. "And ask whoever's there. He'll probably know."

"I could try that," said Daniel.

"Do it," said Betty. "And call me right back."

Daniel called back in fifteen minutes.

"I'm in the deli," said Daniel. "The guy doesn't have the number. And, he says, even if he did, he wouldn't give it out."

"It's an emergency, Daniel," said Betty. "Ask him to ask someone else! Get the number!"

Betty could here the muffled sound of Daniel talking to the sandwich maker and then he came back on the line.

"He'll call his boss during his break," said Daniel. "That's the best I could get."

"When?" said Betty, the pitch of her voice rising from panic. "When is his break?"

"In an hour," said Daniel. "I can call him in an hour and see what he found out."

"Justin will be at school. I wonder if I can call his school and get them to page Antonella."

"Who's she?" said Daniel.

"Gio's sister," said Betty. "She goes to the same school as Justin."

"Are you crazy?" said Daniel. "Wait an hour and we'll see what this guy finds out."

"Okay," said Betty. "But do not leave the deli! Stay there until he calls. And call me immediately."

"Betty," said Daniel. "I have work to do."

"Daniel," said Betty. "I only have tonight! You have to help me. Your top priority is to get me Gio's phone number!"

"Okay," said Daniel. "Okay. Relax. I'll get a sandwich and stare at him while I eat it. I'll call you the minute I have anything."

* * *

Forty-five minutes later Daniel called Betty to tell her the address of Gio's restaurant in London.

Grabbing her briefcase, cell still at her ear, Betty raced through the traffic and back down the Charing Cross steps.

"Tell me which line," said Betty. "Which way?"

"I don't know," said Daniel.

"Hurry up and google it," demanded Betty, abruptly hanging up on Daniel when she saw a station attendant.

"How do I get here?" said Betty, holding out the paper with the address on it.

The attendant gave her directions and pointed her toward the platform.

Within half an hour Betty turned into a street to see a restaurant sign that read "Giovanni's Sandwich Emporium" and she ran into its doorway. It was a classy restaurant, beautifully decorated with artful lighting, stylish tables and chairs, packed with patrons. A maitre'd named Alfred stood just inside the entrance.

Flushed and sweaty from running, Betty said "Is Gio here?"

"No," said Alfred. "Do you have a reservation? We're full."

"I don't want a table," cried Betty. "I want Gio."

"He's not here," said Alfred.

"Where is he?" demanded Betty. "Give me his number!"

"I don't give out numbers," said Alfred. "That would never do."

"Call him for me," cried Betty. "Tell him it's Betty."

"He said no calls tonight," said Alfred. "It's the first time I've ever known him to say that."

"Say what?"

"That he's not taking calls," said Alfred. "He specifically told me so."

"But this is an emergency," said Betty. "You have to help me."

"He's doing something special," said Alfred. "He was distracted all day and left early. And he said no calls. Highly unusual."

Betty set her briefcase and coat on a chair beside Alfred and pondered the situation. Obviously Gio had gone to meet her at Trafalgar square. He had not forgotten. He went there but he didn't wait. Why didn't he wait? Where was he now?

"I'm the something special he's supposed to be doing!" cried Betty, blushing after the words came out, but plunging on, "and he wants me to phone him right now!"

"How do I know you're not his psycho ex-girlfriend from New York?" said Alfred. "The one he moved to London to escape from."

"How do you know I'm from New York?" said Betty.

Alfred pointed at his ear.

"Ah," said Betty. "He told you he has a psycho ex-girlfriend?"

"He didn't," said Alfred. "I'm just surmising from the evidence before me."

Betty tapped her fingers to her lips and thought. How could she convince Alfred to call Gio?

"Will you text him?" said Betty. "That isn't a call."

"I don't know," said Alfred. "I'll ask the cook."

Betty sat down while Alfred disappeared into the kitchen. He returned in a few minutes.

"Will you leave if I text him?" said Alfred. "I'll text him your name and number. That's it."

"Yay," cried Betty, jumping excitedly. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"Don't make me regret this," said Alfred, pulling out his phone.

"Wait a minute, please," begged Betty. "Don't give him my name, just the number."

Alfred looked askance at Betty, "You don't want me to use your name?"

"No," said Betty. "Maybe. I don't know."

"Uh," said Alfred, his fingers poised over the phone. "Your number?"

"No," said Betty. "Just tell him to call here. No reason."

"No," said Alfred. "That wasn't the idea."

"How about if you text him to call you but say it's not urgent? Will you do that?"

"Okay, I guess that's fine," said Alfred, sighing.

Alfred typed a text message into his phone and Betty sat beside him quietly, chewing a strand of hair, praying for Gio to answer it.

About fifteen minutes later Gio walked into the restaurant doorway, ducking past a group of people exiting, and, not noticing Betty, who was staring down at her hands, folded in her lap, stepped in front of Alfred.

"What's up?" said Gio. Alfred tilted his head and gazed towards Betty.

Hearing Gio's voice, Betty jumped up and grabbed Gio's arm.

"Gio!" cried Betty.

Stunned, Gio turned and confronted Betty, "You? Here? Why?"

"To see you!" said Betty. "Where have you been?"

Gio yanked his arm out from under Betty's hand and, white from suppressed rage, said, "Come."

Gio turned and led Betty through the tables in the restaurant, past the kitchen, past the walk-in freezers, past the pantry, past the employee's break room, to a small windowless office in the back, furnished with a desk, a bookcase, a couple of chairs, and a reading lamp. Every surface in the room was stacked with papers, books, magazines and other clutter. He raked his hands over the seat of the chair facing the desk, dumping everything that was on it onto the floor, and pointed at the chair.

"Sit," said Gio, waiting for Betty to sit down. He closed the office door and stepped towards her, but then he turned and went around the desk.

"Why are you here?" said Gio, pacing and glaring at Betty from behind his desk.

"To see you," said Betty. "Where have you been?"

"Walking," said Gio. "Walking around."

"All this time?" said Betty. "I was at Trafalgar square waiting!"

"Not at seven," said Gio.

"No. I was a little late," said Betty. "I couldn't help it. I wanted to call you but I didn't have your number."

"I waited fifteen minutes," said Gio. "That's more than a little late."

"Sorry," said Betty. "I know, it was bad, but why didn't you stay longer? I waited for hours."

"Because I started to think. All day I'd been on tenterhooks, thinking of nothing but you, wanting you. I couldn't help myself even though I feared it was hopeless. You would hurt me. You always do. You always will. When I realized that, I decided to walk to the Tower Bridge."

"Why?" said Betty. "Why'd you go there?"

"It's past the Tower of London. Appropriate, don't you think?" chuckled Gio bitterly. "For someone whose enslaved heart is imprisoned by a sadistic one."

"Gio, I'm not like that! I'm your friend."

"Not a friend. No."

"That was hours ago! What have you been doing all this time?"

"Looking at the water," said Gio, sitting down, putting his hands on the desk. "Thinking."

"About what?" said Betty.

"Why didn't I just let you fall down this morning? What made me say your name? Why would you ask me to meet you just to stand me up? Why do you play cruel games with me?"

Gio sat upright and slammed his fist on the desk, making Betty jump, shouting, "And why can't I stop caring?"

Gio rested his elbows on the desk and covered his face with his hands.

"Gio, it was an accident, it wasn't my fault I was late."

"I didn't know that," said Gio, putting his hands down. "I don't know that. I stood on that bridge looking at the water and I thought and thought. I wondered. Is it high enough? Is the water cold enough? How long would it hurt?"

"Oh, god," said Betty. "Thank god, you didn't …"

"Thank Antonella," said Gio. "She loves me. I couldn't hurt her. No. There's no escape from you that way."

Betty leaned forward and covered Gio's hand with hers. He stared at her hand, trying to divine what she meant by the gesture.

"Betty, have you not tortured me enough? Why are you here? Turning my life upside down again after I thought I was over you."

"I wanted to talk, remember the good times," said Betty. "Can't we?"

"This morning I thought so," said Gio, pulling his hand out from under hers. "It's been one year, five months, and fifteen days since we went to Coney Island. I thought that was enough time, but it seems it isn't."

Gio stood up, "Betty, you never considered calling me in all that time, yet when you bump into me on the street, all of a sudden, you want to talk!"

"I'm sorry I never called," said Betty, bowing her head and looking down at her hands.

After a moment, Betty straightened up and said, "Come on, let's eat. Let's talk like old friends."

"Well," said Gio, walking to the door and opening it for Betty. "I can't."

Betty walked out of the office and they retraced their steps to the front of the restaurant.

"Gio," coaxed Betty. "Please, I'm hungry. Let's just sit and eat together. Its eleven o'clock and I haven't had dinner. There are a lot of tables free. You can show me your menu. It'll be fun. This is our last chance."

"Betty," said Gio. "If you want to be with me, say so, otherwise no."

"How would I know if I did?" said Betty. "You won't talk to me."

"Would you ever consider moving to London?" asked Gio.

"And give up my job?" said Betty. "Never! I love my job."

"Then we have nothing to talk about," said Gio. "Alfred will serve you dinner."

Gio turned to Alfred and said, "Give her anything she wants, on the house."

Gio turned and strode out of the restaurant, Betty chasing after him.

"Hey," said Betty, grabbing Gio's arm.

"Goodbye," said Gio, stopping to yank his arm away from her.

"No!" said Betty, as Gio resumed walking. "You can't just walk away."

"Yes, I can," said Gio. "I've done it before."

"Gio!" screamed Betty, as he reached the corner. "Come back!"

Gio turned back and walked up to Betty, who stood a few steps from his restaurant door, coatless and shivering, a pleading look in her eyes.

Pouncing on her, Gio grabbed her head roughly between his hands, pressing his mouth over hers, hungrily and savagely kissing her, his grasping fingers tearing her hair. Surprised by the attack, Betty opened her mouth to scream but the only sound she made was a moan from the sudden pain. Tears forming in her eyes, she grabbed his shoulders to steady herself. His breath hot and rapid, Gio's tongue explored her mouth, his grip powerful, bruising. Betty did not resist. She did not return his kiss.

After a few moments, Gio released Betty, scrutinizing her face to gauge her reaction. Betty dropped her hands from his shoulders and lowered her eyes. A tear rolled down her cheek, wetting the red welt forming on it.

"What are you doing?" whimpered Betty.

"I had to know," said Gio, "I needed to know what it felt like."

"I'm sorry," said Betty. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" said Gio.

"Everything," said Betty. "For hurting you."

"What's done is done," said Gio.

"Can't we start over?" said Betty, shivering and tucking her hands under her arms.

"And pretend like nothing ever happened between us?" said Gio. "No."

"Gio, I was wrong not to call you," said Betty. "I want to know you now."

"If you ever move to London, look me up," said Gio. "Maybe I'll still be here. Maybe I'll want to know you again."

Betty looked longingly at the restaurant, "Let's go in where it's warm."

"No," said Gio, tucking his scarf into his leather jacket. "You go in and eat. Get your coat."

"You won't come in?" said Betty.

"No," said Gio. "Have a safe journey."

Gio paused a few moments, scanning her face thoroughly, then said, "Goodbye."

Betty watched Gio turn and stride away to the corner, watching him until he was out of sight. He never looked back.

Betty entered the restaurant and walked up to Alfred.

"What would you like to eat?" said Alfred.

"Nothing, thanks," said Betty, picking up her coat from the chair beside him.

"Do you want a turkey and sun-dried tomato baguette to go?" asked Alfred.

"I'm not hungry," said Betty, then she looked at him sharply, "Why would you offer me that sandwich?"

"It's the special," said Alfred.

"Today!" said Betty. "It's today's special?"

"No, not just today's," said Alfred. "It's the special everyday."