Gianna
Erik somehow acquired two tents and a bar of soap. A welcome resumption of my daily ablutions calmed my restlessness. Erik patted a night shift, lacy and girlish, into my hands. The intimacy of such a gesture heated my cheeks as he abruptly turned.
"Thank you."
He did not speak to me for four days, and by the time Orpheus healed, we three continued on foot. The silence indeed punished me. My thoughts circled constantly, and I still did not understand.
"Why don't you just lie? To explain your mask."
He looked away, the outline of his masked nose raised. "It matters not."
"Why?"
"I do not wish to converse with you."
"Please. I want to understand." I pleaded, and he maintained eye contact for several seconds. I refused to look away, knowing somehow I had to prove something.
"What do you wish to understand?
could I word this? The thought of another week with my rampant inner monologue as company filled me with trepidation. "Why do you hide?"
He deliberated with himself, murmuring in French, Italian, and other languages I failed to comprehend. The strange behavior did not surprise me. I knew I must wait for him.
"I am very ugly."
Oh.
Oh.
Perhaps an injury? I had never recoiled at someone for their physical appearance, and I could not comprehend such a visage that warranted a mask.
"People always want to see eventually." Yes. The urge to reach for him and look and see swelled. I registered that such an action would represent the ultimate betrayal. Then he would leave me. Then I would be alone.
I forced my hands into the seams of my dress. I had earned Erik's friendship. It was not easy. Perhaps he was dramatic about his looks, but I refused to risk such a valuable thing.
"I understand. Thank you. I will never ask that of you." I placed my hand on his angular shoulder. He flinched, his shoulder moving weirdly, but I kept my palm firm.
"How do I know that?" His voice turned very fragile and high-pitched.
"We are friends. We trust each other."
"Friends."
He said it like a foreign concept, and I felt I needed to explain it to him. "Yes- and I never wish to hurt you-friends help each other. Like we have been doing."
"But this is just a deal to you. I am only your means to get to Venice."
"Maybe at the beginning, but now we are friends."
His black boots crunched on the dusty path. A lack of rain dried the landscape, and the arid heat made me sweat.
"What did you tell people before?" I asked. "About that mask?"
"Many things. A gypsy clan I lived with for some time believed I was a wizard."
"I am not surprised. The things you can do! Was it exciting?"
"Was what?"
"Living with gypsies, traveling all the time." He must have seen the entire continent!
"Overall, no. Though performances were."
"Performances! What did you do?"
"I… sang, among other things."
"Well, traveling is very exciting for me. I love it! I have lived more in two weeks than my whole life!"
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps? Oh, Erik. I am worried."
"Why?"
"Once we get to Venice. This will all be over."
"Yes."
"You will write, yes?"He looked incredulous. "I am sure my uncle can find a place for you for a while. I am unsure what you are planning, but I will attempt to secure your lodgings. You have already done so much for me."
"I will write." He said.
"You know it's my birthday soon."
"Yes, Gi."
"Will you get me a present?"
His steady treads signaled the end of our conversation.
Erik
Ancient arches greeted us. The briny scent of the sea wafted strong. Soon, we would need to raft into the more central parts of the city. The water lapped onto the stacked brick and eroded over time. I marveled at the intricacy of the stonework, which was much different from Rome's and reminded me of Italy's diversity. Such a greeting proved no match against the beaming joy of Gi's features, though. Her mouth hung open, upturned and wide. One small hand rested on her upper chest, and another lay on her soft brown curls.
I vowed to grant her a birthday gift, though of what, my mind eradicated all possibilities. The city promised some inspiration. I longed to sketch it. After paying for Orpheus' board, much to my fiscal irritation, the two of us hailed several gondolas in our perusal. Though some eyed me curiously, even cautiously, no one prevented my boarding. The city seemed looser, more relaxed than Rome. I attributed their liberality to the distance from the Church's influence. My relief showed with each transit. Before I knew it, my posture eased, and my jaw unclenched. Gi chatted amiably with each ferryman, who spoke various languages, and I rather enjoyed the lilting motion of the boat. The change in surroundings invigorated me.
"Did you hear that, Erik?"
"Yes."
"Then what did I say?"
I blinked at her. This place amused me to the point of distraction.
She sighed. "There is to be an Opera tonight!"
"Ah."
"A Verdi, he said. I doubt we could afford tickets, but-"
"We will go."
"What do you mean?"
"Do not worry about the money. We shall go."
Her eyebrows furrowed, and she glanced at me warily until the city sights competed for her attention.
"You don't believe me," I said.
"I think it is challenging to attain tickets. If you were listening, you'd know that the successor to Rigoletto is the hottest ticket in town!"
"Hottest?" This American speak vexed me to no end.
"You know, like popular?
"All the same. We will be in Teatro Il Fenice tonight."
She smirked. How could she doubt the things I would do for music?Eventually, she brought up her stupid uncle.
"I should probably look for him." She muttered.
"It is growing late." The sun still shone brightly. It was not yet noon. "Looking for Information is fruitless after dark." The best information came to light past sunset. "Shall we buy some clothes for the occasion?"
Gi beamed. It was so easy. My power over her happiness settled deep within my chest, and I wielded it happily. I handed her the coin purse, keeping a few pieces for myself. "Try to be frugal. I will get more soon." I should not have spent so much on things for her. I would have to rifle through some pockets tonight without her knowledge.
I dropped her at some frilly ladies' shop with white gilded windows. Gi frolicked in excitedly. Before the door shut, she turned,
"Erik, you will not leave me, will you?"
"Why would you think that?"
She blushed. "Well, we are in Venice, and-" her eyes danced upon every object except me, and she twirled her fingers in her long hair.
"And?"
"Just- you'll be here when I get done, yes?"
"I will see you in one hour," I assured her. We would get her to her uncle, and then… and then.
It would all be over.I failed to imagine another possibility.
Those long, late nights huddled in Giovanni's cellar seemed full of innovation. Mechanical projects, musical instrumentation, architecture, and masonry filled my days. My creativity knew no bounds, and for once, someone granted me the freedom to express it. I thought it contented me—such a life left little room for complaint. Yet, while traveling with Gi, we talked. Despite my frequent misgivings, it was enjoyable. To spend time with her-
I wanted more.
And there stood the utter pain of it all.
I used the time to gather some essentials for tonight. Once I secured them, I hastily made my way to Il Fenice. Eavesdropping around the Opera House served dual purposes. The city rebuilt it some years ago after a disastrous fire, and the building intrigued me. Conversely, I planned methods to attain entrance.
A stagehand exiting a side door provided the perfect opportunity.
The building fascinated me. Its rich moldings and delicate arches created a grand atmosphere. I recalled my mother discussing Paris' need for a better Opera House. Perhaps city builders should take inspiration from the Venetians. The stage bustled with activity. Ballerinas scurried about, and musicians casually tuned their instruments. And then they played.
The music washed over me. There must be a hundred musicians! One, two... six violins alone! Four bases! Five Piccolos! And the talent! The sounds echoed through the house, empty before tonight's performance. In a rush, the conductor dismissed them, urging them to eat quickly. The living organism shifted apart, a coherent body separating into small individuals once more. They disappeared in a bustle of activity, men and some women chatting and smiling.
I sensed the hour growing late and hastily returned to the lady's store.
She had changed into a brilliant ruby gown with bell-like sleeves and her hair elegantly done up with matching ribbons. Her hands were covered in white silk. She practically glowed. The setting sun reflected her dress into the Grand Canal.
"You are late!"
I snapped out of my silent admiration. "Only a few minutes."
"You scared me."
"It was not my intention."
She glared at me, arms crossed.
"You are ridiculous. You have no reason to be upset."
"I thought you had left."
"Why would I leave now? After all this time."
"We are almost done with this! It is almost over. And, I - and I thought because we were in Venice. Ugh!" She sat on a nearby bench in a huff. Her hands raised, then lowered. Her head hung in her hands.
"What is wrong?" I panicked, sitting at her side hurriedly.
"Tomorrow, we will find my Uncle, and this will end. And I will never see you again." She sounded upset.
Did she concern herself with me? She could finally move on with her life. Why on earth would she be worried about me? I had done nothing but push her away, and she kept bouncing back like some buoy.
"I will be fine."
"Maybe, Erik. Probably. You are very resourceful, you know. But who will look out for you?"Why did she care about me? Giovanni provided guardianship for a while, but not really. I was more of a tenant. I exercised my independence from a young age. It came naturally. It suited me. I reveled in it. A distinct tightness bundled in my chest. I pushed it down.
"You must go to him."
"I know. I just-"
I refused to spend our last night in misery. "None of that." I snapped up quickly. "We will enjoy a fine night at the Opera." I reached out a hand, anxious to see if she would push it away.
She gave me a teary-eyed smile, placing her hand into mine. "Alright."
We lazily meandered to the Opera House, taking back alleys. I admit my chest puffed out a bit, accompanied by such a fine-looking companion. She wore the fabric well and raised her chin a bit higher as we walked. Next to her, I felt underserving- my face excluded. I had acquired some ill-fitting clothes in the costume department, and they hung loose on my frame, the pants too short. Fortunately, the top hat concealed much of my mask. Her heeled boots clicked on the pavement. We almost looked like- but no. She rested her small palm on my elbow. I flinched, but she did not pull away. After a few minutes, I eased into her warm hand on my wool coat.
Gi stopped us abruptly. Was she disgusted with my touch? "Wait." My heart thudded. "I almost forgot." She reached for the medium-sized bag I assumed stored her ladies' essentials."I saw this and thought of you." Red colored her cheeks. She looked everywhere but me.
What was this? "I- uh" Stupid! I awkwardly stumbled over the words. "It is a very nice bag."
Her eyes darted back to me uncomfortably, brow furrowed. "No, silly! Look inside."
At her permission, I gingerly opened the bag's contents. Soft black fabric greeted my fingertips. Its heaviness gave away its fine quality, and I ran my palm against the delicate stitching.
"I thought you'd like the drama of it. You know, and it is perfect for the occasion. Not the most useful gift. I had to guess on your height. It is rather hot, so hopefully, it is not too uncomfortable. I am rather glad you did not get one for yourself at this point-"
"It is perfect." I lifted the soft wool to hang on my back. I gently clasped the fine metal and admired the fabric's rippling as it hid much of the terrible suit.
"Wait, there is more!" More? What could she possibly have?
"You are the one whose birthday it is, you know."
She looked shocked. How could I forget when she reminded me every minute? "I know, but you look dashing!"
"You cannot afford this."
She crossed her arms. "Now, is that a way to thank someone?"
"Thank you. Now, how did you buy this?"
One brow raised. "We are almost to my uncle. I decided to make the most of the rest of the money. I have some left; I am not stupid."
"What about our food until we find him? Did you not realize it could take days, if not weeks, to track him down?" Perhaps I exaggerated, but Venice was no cheap city. I ran low on funds for food and lodgings. Poverty did not scare me, but poverty with two people would be an experience I would not relish.
Her face dropped a little. "I thought you would appreciate it."
"I do; it is merely-" I turned away, gazing at passing gondolas.
I felt her fingers again, the pressure against my bony elbow.
"I am sorry, Erik. We can return it."
"No!" I said.
She smiled, looking away. "We have traveled this far. Perhaps I trust you to find him sooner rather than later." Oh, how I longed it to be later. "And you know it is my birthday, so I believe it is extra generous of me to give you a gift." She granted me a knowing grin like a spoiled child.
The birthday. Constantly, the birthday. Who cared about their birthday? "I already thanked you." I waved her off.
"You may have to thank me again." She eyed the bag, then me.
I pulled out two white silk gloves, which were clearly of the same caliber. Slipping them on, I glared at her. "Thank you, mademoiselle."
She laughed. "It is my pleasure, monsieur."
Soon later, the entrance of Il Fenice gleamed in welcome. Patrons bustled in their finest attires. Older men ushered in their much younger dates, and older matrons scowled at such a transgression.
When I pulled her away from the spectacle, Gi protested."Where are you taking us? The entrance is that way?"
"You think I acquired those tickets?"
Moisture welled up in her eyes, and she dropped my arm. Damn.
"You said so yourself: tickets are difficult to acquire."
"So we are not going? Oh, Erik, you are cruel!"
"I never said we were not attending, you daft thing!"
"Then, how?" Her head whipped around comically, the dress fluttering with the harsh movement.
"Follow me."
Someone will spot us!"
"Who, Gi? No one knows us." Everyone was too focused on their routines to bother with us. A performer shushed an alto who was loudly warming up.
"We should not be back here."
"Says who? We are patrons, like everyone else."
In seconds, we walked among nervous performers and chatting stagehands. The plush carpet cushioned my feet, a welcome change from unforgiving cobblestone. They rushed from dressing rooms and practice spaces, half-dressed. Some smoked cigarettes; others tapped their foot in anticipation. I inhaled the chaos, invigorated by my utter unanimity among these people. We pushed through corners and hallways. As I pulled her, I heard a loud tearning, and she gasped.
"Oh my god!"
The ruby skirt had caught on an errant nail in the door. The tear was small but revealed her petticoat to the inspecting eye. "I must fix this."
I would have pointed out that no one would see her in five minutes, and she looked acceptable, but the date prevented me. "Fine. Allow us to slip into one of these dressing rooms."
"Erik! We are not going in there together! How would that look?"
"You try my patience."
"You try mine!"
Resisting the urge to blow up on her on her birthday, I knocked on the closest door I could find and threw her in.
"Be quick." I said.