Florence, June 2016
After spending a month in Los Angeles with Helga, editing her book, Rhonda had gained most of the weight she lost. Oh, Helga was still a horrible cook but they often ate out and laughed at some of the ridiculous characters they came across. California offered a dizzying array of people, some of them too strange not to look at. They even took yoga twice a week. Helga said stretching helped her during her pregnancy.
When her month was up, Helga sadly went, hugging her friend so tightly it hurt, asking her to call her if anything happens. Rhonda assured her she was feeling much better because of the blonde's visit and that she would call her every three days. But the Malibu Mansion she owned was emptier without her friend and on the third day of Helga's absence, she was beginning to get restless.
So she took a swim in her pool. When that wasn't enough to get rid of the boredom, she went down to the beach. By the time sunset rolled around, she had her suitcases packed and stuffed in her car. There was a lot of heavy breathing in the driver's seat, clutching the wheel in panic.
She had to call Helga.
"I'm going to leave the country for a while."
"What?!" she yelled, "Arnold, hold him for a moment." There was shuffling in the background. Rhonda waited. "I just got back here, in Hillwood. Do you need me to fly back there?"
"No, I'm good. I just needed to tell you. Since you said I should call if something comes up. Is this considered 'something up'?"
"Yes!" she heard Helga exhale. "Look, is this something you really want to do? You're not simply freaking out?"
Rhonda closed her eyes.
"I'm freaking out a little but I think I've spent enough time here in Malibu. And since you left, I'm kind of hating it here."
"Aww, you miss me," Helga teased.
The heiress rolled her eyes.
"A tiny bit. Look, what do you think I should do?"
There was a pause. "I thought you only called to tell me. You're asking for my advice?"
"Yeah."
Rhonda heard Arnold's voice in the back. "I could really use some help, sweetie," he said.
"I'll be right there, football-head!" Helga yelled.
Rhonda pulled the phone away from her ear.
"Sorry, James is having a bad day. Hey, if you want to go, go. You don't need my permission."
She breathed. "Okay."
"Just tell me where you're going so I don't have to worry."
"Italy."
Helga sighed. "Really? Okay, where exactly in Italy?"
"I was thinking Florence. I've never been there and I heard it's nice."
"Urgh. I hope to God you know what you're doing, Rhonda. But you're a grown woman and I trust you. Have fun in Tuscany."
Helga's vote of confidence was just what she needed. She opened the garage door and adjusted her rear-view mirror.
"Thanks, I'll call you when I land."
"Sure. Just try not to kill anyone."
"I can't promise you that but I'll try my hardest."
Helga laughed and she hung up, tossing her phone on the passenger seat. She slowly backed out of her driveway, locked the gate, and then drove all the way LAX listening to some old-school West Coast rap.
…
The flight had been awful on her back and span around 14 hours. They had a stopover in Frankfurt where she took the opportunity to run to the restrooms and vomit the airplane food she had on the flight. Not that it was bad, but her morning sickness was getting worse. It was a myth that it only happened on mornings. Rhonda felt the urge to hurl every time. Whenever she encountered an irritating person, she imagines blowing chunks onto their face and it immediately calms her down. Not only is the mental image hilarious, it was strangely satisfying.
An interesting fact she discovered, everybody was nice to her since she was pregnant which she thought was sweet. She got a pillow, some tea, and an extra hot towel. It almost made her forget about her backaches. She tried to sleep but her mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of her baby. She was going to give everything to this child. Her relationships may have been failures but there was no way she was going to screw it up with this little guy. Thirty minutes before landing, she finally fell asleep with her hand absently caressing her tummy.
It was 11pm when the Lufthansa flight landed at FLR which was confusing since they departed from Los Angeles at night too. It felt like time was stretched. She rented a car after stopping by the information counter but she stayed at the hotel airport. There was no way she was driving after the flight. She was too jet lagged. Remembering her promise, she left Helga a voice mail. As soon as she reached her room, she collapsed onto the bed and didn't wake up until the crack of dawn.
…
Thaddeus was increasingly becoming furious at the way Helga kept withholding Rhonda's location. His work had started becoming affected, he couldn't focus on numbers and business deals right now. He had far more important things to worry about. Edward reassured for the fourth time that week that Rhonda called and said she was alright. When he asked whether the blonde man knew where his ex-wife was, the guy hung up.
The other day, he yelled at Gordon Samuels, one of the interns. Then immediately apologised and made it up to the young man with lunch.
"What the hell is happening with you?" Brad asked, popping in his office.
He rubbed his face. He was so tired. He hadn't been eating well and all his free time was spent on tracking down Rhonda while everyone, even her parents, had called to tell him she was just fine. Fine? What the hell did that mean?
"I don't know."
Brad closed the door behind him and sat down one of the chairs in front of his desk. "You need to go on leave."
Thaddeus laughed then looked him dead in the eye.
"You're funny. We're in the middle of our busiest month."
"And you have been no help so far," Brad pointed out. "You've been out of focus, irritated, and just a pain to be around."
"That's not true."
Brad gave him a pointed look.
He felt guilty. "I know. But one of these days–"
"No. You're going to find my smoking hot, future wife Rhonda and come back when you've got your head screwed on straight."
"Are you granting permission or are you ordering me?" he asked, ignoring what he said about Rhonda. Brad's crush on her had been worrying in the beginning but amusing now since Brad had been happily married for about two years.
"No one's telling me where she is," he confessed.
Brad sighed. "Then figure it out. I thought you love puzzles and logic games. Come on, man. You used to force me to play chess with you all the time and I hate that game. Think." He tapped a finger on his head before rising from his seat and walking backwards to the door. Thaddeus watched him. "Think."
"You're being a very weird about this," he called after his friend.
"I'm always weird when it comes to Rhonda," Brad yelled from outside his office. "Make out with her for me!"
That would be impossible, Thaddeus thought. He figured she must hate his guts after what he's done to her. Making out would be the last thing on her mind.
…
She woke up from a steamy dream with a dark-haired lover then cursed herself. Her stupid hormones have been whacked lately. It made her intensely hungry and awakening an urge that was more embarrassing, she was always horny. Her breasts were sensitive and bigger, her skin sometimes felt like it was on fire every time she brushed up against even a semi-attractive man and her thoughts were disgustingly perverted. There was a cute Italian flight attendant from last night and she blushed whenever he asked if she needed more water. It was such a curse. Since her perverted thoughts always lead to Tha–
She wasn't going to think about him. She was in Italy. She was going to have some fun. As much fun as a single, five-months pregnant lady can have. Should not be a problem. Once she retrieved her car, she stopped by at a grocery store to buy some original flavour potato chips, her only weakness. The cravings started to hit her after Helga visited. At first, it was only something to wash off the taste of burnt pancakes. Then the taste grew on her.
It was an hour-long drive from the airport to Panzano in Chianti. The city slowly fading into rolling hills of the Tuscan countryside. It's like something out of a postcard. She passed by vineyards and grand Italian houses. The sky was a beautiful cerulean blue with only a few puffy white clouds. There was a sign that said she was close to her destination.
There was someone she had to visit.
If she couldn't go back to her family and face their questions and inane coddling, she'd go to the next best thing. Hopefully, she'll have a place to stay by the end of the day.
…
He finally had an idea where she could be. He felt stupid for not thinking about it before. Well, Helga's hint that Rhonda had finally left the country helped him figured it out. She sounded mildly alarmed before informing him that she had spent a month with Rhonda at California. Thad wanted to scold her but realised he had no right. Instead, he breathed calmly and thanked her for telling him.
At Brad's insistence, he took an indefinite leave. He figured he could use it since he hasn't had a vacation in four years.
After swiftly packing his bags, he booked the latest one way trip to Rome and drove himself to O'Hare International Airport. Following his nine-hour flight, he didn't stop to rest, paying no attention to his tired bones. He rented a small car and hurried to his grandparents' apartment. On the way over, he rehearsed in his head what he wanted to say.
He parked haphazardly and ran up the steps. Thaddeus opened the door and groaned upon finding the apartment empty. He spent the night there before promising himself he'd think of the next course of action in the morning.
…
Alfredo never told her to help around the house but she did. It was the least she could do. She took a walk every day since she arrived and focused on growing her baby. Then, she'd sweep around the house, help cut vegetables during meal preparations, and go to town to buy groceries so she could sharpen her Italian by talking to the grocers. It had been five days since her arrival and they lived peacefully in Alfredo's huge house.
He told her it had been lonely since Thaddeus' grandaunt, Alessandra, died a few years back. He'd been getting up in age and left the restaurant to one of his grandchildren, Ernesto. He moved back to Florence to be with his children. Rhonda thought he seemed glad to have someone to talk to.
She had to tell him the truth, figured she owed him that much, so when she arrived that noon in her beat up rental car and her unwashed hair, she confessed what had happened between his grandnephew and her. Instead of commenting on it, Alfredo just showed her the room she could stay in and told her that he'd prepare her some food for lunch since she might be hungry. It stunned Rhonda but she was thankful.
There was something magical about the place. Most nights, she would sit on the hammock Alfredo had put up. When he went to town on Wednesday and asked if she'd like to come along, she agreed. There, she met Lucia, one of his children. The fifty-year-old looked similar to her cousin, Thaddeus' mother, Allegra, but this lady was taller. As tall as Rhonda. Her features were also more defined. She spoke great English and taught Rhonda how to make real Carbonara.
"The key is to keep stirring after putting in the eggs," Lucia had said as they cooked in her cramped kitchen.
Rhonda remembered the advice, as though one day in the future, she might decide to whip up a dinner for her friends. Alfredo and she ate at his daughter's house. It was home filled with laughter and love, watching their family made Rhonda wistful. Her two teenage boys were naughty but respectful and her husband, Michael, an engineer, was delightful with his silly stories.
They got back to Alfredo's house in silence. She drove and the old man fell asleep in the passenger seat. She smiled as she glanced at him through the mirrors. Rhonda fell asleep dreaming of happy families.
It was Friday morning, as she was picking strawberries in Alfredo's front yard when a blue car pulled up from a distance. She didn't pay it any mind until she saw the man who came out. As fast as she could, she hid behind the strawberry bushes.
"Damn," she cursed under her breath.