Erik
I woke groggy. I smacked my lips, tongue dry. My limbs groaned with each subtle movement as I turned over.
Gi's sleeping form lay next to me.
I stared at her. Her small face. Thick lashes brushed her round cheeks. Freckles dusted them. Her nose was straight and long, her mouth wide, her eyes large, and her eyebrows bold. Each feature might have overpowered the other if they had not been equally matched. Her looks matched her expressive personality.
And when she was awake, those features would come alive. My eyes traveled to her dress, then her hands, covered with gloves. She had not taken them off, I realized. A need to protect and defend this small thing came over me like a wave.
I did not mean to be so unkind to her. Truly, she was a sweet child, if vain and selfish in some aspects. I only recognized our inevitable ending, in which she would lead her charmed life with the long-lost uncle, only to forget me. Her kindness was simple and fleeting. I wanted to get her to Venice, safe, and think no more of her.
We continued the next few days. Gi said little. Every so often, she'd stare at some faraway point, her eyes transforming into glassy spheres. Perhaps she was thinking of her family or regretting her current situation. I would look away then, reminded of Luciana's vacant stare.
Venice remained the objective. The city excited me in more ways than not. Famous for its mask traditions, I longed to blend into throngs of people instead of the object of their derision. To be an unremarkable passerby! The thought utterly delighted me. We arrived in San Marino sooner than I anticipated. Though admittedly disoriented by the frequency of Sammarinese, I breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar Italian. The larger city gave us better luck with lodgings, and we childishly explored various castles and viewpoints. I admired the more coastal and modern architecture than Rome and scribbled down notes and drawings. We were enjoying one particular view of the city when Gi mentioned,
"Do you enjoy balls?"
Why was she asking this? "I have never been to one."
"Oh really? They are quite fun! I thought all Europeans went to balls."
I ground my molars. "Cease referring to an entire continent as if we are all the same."
"But you are. You are so different from Americans."
I could agree with that. "The rich ones do."
"My mother was French; she always enjoyed them, my father says."
"Your father is not French?" She looked around comically, curls bobbling, as if someone was waiting behind a corner, taking notes. "How did he meet your mother?" I chastised myself for investing in these people, but I wanted to know why she was on the road that day.
"He traveled in Paris- all things French are very fashionable and civilized, you know. He picked out a wife." She said it like one would choose a new coat for the season.
"Yes- people are rather… envious. Though the country possesses a superior language, its people are no more enlightened."
"But they do like balls, yes?"
"Yes, I suppose they do."
"People are the same everywhere, then." She concluded, like some great philosopher. "Though I do love speaking French. Thank you, Erik, for helping me practice."
"You hardly need it."
"What about my incorrect pronunciations you were so fond of pointing out?"
"Now that I know it is merely an accent, I have grown accustomed to it."
She beamed. One canine tooth caught my attention, its position a bit too high in a rather charming manner. I found myself mimicking her in my own, probably terrifying way.
As we returned, a mangy and dirt-covered stray dog approached. When I gingerly reached out to pet it, it sniffed my pockets, finding some leftover bread from the morning. Metal rattled.
"What is that?" Gi questioned.
My heart fell, my pulse racing. "My belt must be loose."
She saw through my terrible lie immediately. "Are you trying to hornswoggle me?"
"What?" Of all the languages I knew, what was that?
"I thought we had no money."
"We have some."
"Why didn't you tell me? We could have bought something instead of stealing!"
"We do not have that much."
"So, where did you get it then?"
Refusing to continue her line of thinking, I started walking. She struggled to keep up with me.
"Is that…the driver's money?"
My head fell, and I resolutely looked away.
"You told me you were no thief!"
Her accusation angered me. "What was I supposed to do? Take us across the country with nothing in my pocket? You had no qualms about stealing from others this trip."
"When I knew we were unable to pay!"
"All the same."
"All the," She huffed, crossing her arms like some old landlady. "You stole from a dead man, Erik." That canine tooth had long disappeared from view.
"I used it for you!"
She scoffed, "Tell me, did you plan on using it on yourself, too?"
A hard weight settled in my stomach.
"I am going for a walk." She started in the opposite direction. I grasped her arm.
"It is growing late. Let us walk back." She attempted to yank her arm from my fingers, but I held firm. She could not simply walk around at night! Hell, she got robbed in broad daylight! Did she not know the dangers of walking alone as a woman and at night? Stupid! How could I ever keep her alive until Venice?
Gi's amber eyes danced with molten flame- full of emotion and light. "You are not my brother! Or my father or any relation. Kindly remove your arm." She turned her back to me with one final yank, and I allowed it. Her white boots clacked on the cobblestones with every step, the yellow dress fluttering.
Like a dog, I followed her.
She proved remarkably easy to track, not that I was surprised. If her footsteps did not alert every passerby, surely her bright clothing did. Her hair expanded around her head like a crown, and she paraded through the streets with her chin high.
She spoke to strangers occasionally, making comical motions with her arms. I kept to unlit corners here and there. They pointed her many blocks away. She moved remarkably fast, and I struggled to maintain my anonymity as the streets swelled with people. With no money, I wondered what drove her so.
She stopped at a street performer. His quick hands enticed a section of young men. She pushed them aside. Her torso leaned forward on the table with several cups. I watched in dissatisfaction as she wagered the silk handkerchief in payment for the game. The dealer's hands danced along the cups, and cleverly she chose correctly. Such performances I possessed no fondness for, as I usually stood as a bystander while one of my Romani companions swindled the player. What I hated most was the reeking, desperate motivation for money. Such ambition was beneath her.
I watched her win several more rounds, risking more and more each time. With each round, she brushed her hair back, playing with the errant curls, eyes wide and lips parted. And with each round, the dealer's eyes gleamed. A small party gathered around.
When she inevitably lost, the man struck,
"You owe 20 liras, missy."
Her mouth hung open. "I do not have that, sir. May we play again?"
His beady eyes narrowed. Did I look like that? "No, now pay, or I shall call the police! You gypsies- always looking to scam!" His grubby hands reached out and grasped her arm.
"I am not a gypsy!" Her hands yanked back, but the stronger man refused to release her.
I threw my voice, landing in his ear.
"My son, let go of this girl immediately."
"Who is that? Who are you? He said, whipping his head around.
"I am God, though I can be the devil. Release this girl at once!" His face dropped in shock, and Gi's turned around searching.
I heard hushed chatter from the small crowd, surprised at the man's strange behavior. He continued to look around stupidly. The voice of God took many hours to perfect, but I believe I honed it well. "I see you unfairly moving your left hand. Cease your trickery and follow my path!" I intoned, my voice now booming.
This encouraged him. Did he not anticipate a common passerby to spot his tricks? Such simpletons! Everywhere I went!
I distracted him enough for Gi to slip out of his grasp and run toward the alleyway, slamming directly into me. We tumbled to the ground. Her body pressed up against mine sent blood racing down my spine, and I longed to shake it off. In the chaos, I pocketed the handkerchief off the cobblestones.
"Erik!" She exclaimed. Was she happy or angry?
Before I could contemplate too long, she embraced me. It felt wonderful, and after my shock had warned off, I could do nothing but imprint this moment my mind forever.
Painfully, too soon, she realized our position on the dirty ground and removed herself. She reached out a gloved hand, and I tried not to lean on her too much, half afraid I would pull her down again, though that didn't sound too awful. Once we were righted, or I was wronged, she blushed so prettily that my breath caught.
"That was you, wasn't it?"
I summoned the voice of God in her ear, and her pupils blew.
"You are incredible! Did you know that?" I do not know what else could have endeared her to me. I nearly melted at her words. She said, "Oh, I bet you have the most wonderful singing voice! You must must must sing for me! Please?"
"Perhaps later." I did not want to stay here long.
She relented, though her disappointment was short-lived. On our walk, her change in mood exasperated me as she admired the buildings and architecture. Her terms to describe the arches were incorrect, but I did not fault her. Sharing a familiar passion warmed me.
"Why did you choose to gamble? You know those games are useless." I said.
"I was trying to make some money." Her voice sounded hollow.
"Such pursuits are designed to steal the money from your pocket. The house always wins."
"I do not know, Erik! New York is full of it- I just thought it was my only option. I wanted to help. Not sit around useless." Frankly, it pleased me she took the initiative, no matter how amateur. We kept walking. "Perhaps you are right. We needed that money. I figured I could get some more."
I reached into my pocket and placed the remainder of the coins, no small sum, into her hand.
"Is this-?"
"-the rest of it."
"But you-"
"It is yours. I should not have taken it from you." She looked at me with such absolute faith that I suddenly grew terrified.
She opened the bag and split the coins in half. They rattled in my hands. "We share it. Deal?" Her hand reached out in a very American way as the other shoved the coins again into my deep pockets. I grasped her dainty fingers. They were warm.