Summer Figs

The sunlight peeked through the green leaves of the trees above me while striking chirrups called back and forth from the birds. I breathed in the humid air to fill my lungs with moisture as my eyes opened and closed in lazy pleasure.

The simple fact everything was different than my normal life was enough to swirl inside my skull and alter my senses.

I'd brought a book with me, but I couldn't help and take a moment to lie on my back to think about the life thrumming in the forest. Insects buzzed in the distance, and the secluded area I'd found vibrated with life.

I was quietly contemplating all this when I heard the delicious melody of the native tongue weave through the trees.

"Faremo tardi! E se Dario si chiedesse dove sono?" The voice sounded frustrated.

"Calmi, questi fichi sono così dolci, solo qualche altro," the other lovely girl's voice said in reply.

I leaned up on my elbows as they ambled into my clearing.

The girl I'd heard speak last looked at me, then froze. "Scusa! Non volevo disturbarti!" She apologized for disturbing me, I think.

"Vai tranquilla." I looked at her as she looked at me. Her dark hair was in a ponytail, but some dark waves stuck to the sides of her face in the heat. She had a little basket full of figs, and her hands were blackened with the tint of the dark figs.

"Ti lasceremo in pace," she said softly as her friend caught up with her.

"Er..." my Italian wasn't that great, and I had no idea what she'd said. "Per favore," I stuttered my practiced phrase out, "potrebbe parlare più l-lentcha—lentamente?" To be perfectly honest, it didn't matter how slowly the gorgeous girl spoke, no way in fucking hell was I going to understand her.

She smiled lopsidedly, then cocked her hip as she rested her basket on it.

"Che lingua parli? Francais? Deutsch? Eenglish?"

"English! Yes! Inglese."

She smiled widely, then came over to my blanket to kneel on a corner. I sat up quickly to hug my bare knees. Her friend floated behind her, scowling.

I took the chance to practice my stilted Italian. "Mi chiamo Victoria. Come si chiama?"

She smiled as if she found this all very funny. I couldn't be mad because her pearly white teeth shone out and her plump lips stretched to accommodate her brilliant smile.

"Piacere. Mi chiamo Emilia. Emmi."

"Emmi." I repeated. "Vic." I pointed to myself.

"Veek."

It was my turn to smile. I had to tear my eyes away from her dancing doe eyes to acknowledge her friend. "Come si chiama? " I gestured to her.

"Paola. Nice to meet you. Emmi, andiamo!" she hissed.

"Wait! I want to talk my new friend." Her accent was adorable.

"Beh! Ti lascio!" Paola said angrily.

"Va bene."

Her friend scoffed, then glared at me before she left. I raised my eyebrows. I wasn't sure why she hated me already.

Emmi was looking at my picnic as her friend stomped off.

"I trade you. Figs for cheese. And maybe vino — wine," she said.

"Deal!"

As much as I was enjoying my solitude in that gorgeous place, having a pretty girl join me made it that much more sharply enjoyable.

I sliced the Gorgonzola, then offered her some crackers.

She placed her basket between us, then took out a water bottle to rinse out her sticky hands from picking the figs earlier. Her jaw was beautiful, all straight angles and a slight rounded cleft in her chin at the end. Her nose was long and straight, rounded with a little ball at the end. Every single surface of her body made me want to trace my fingers over her skin, top to bottom.

I took a dark fig and bit into it. It was syrupy fibers where the sweetness came in through your nose as well. My eyes widened at her, and she giggled as I inhaled my first fig.

"Wow!" I exclaimed.

She hummed in agreement as she spread Gorgonzola over a cracker, then placed a slice of fig over it after cutting it deftly with her switchblade. Her eyes rolled back as she bit into it.

"Squisito!" She mumbled over a mouthful.

I only had one plastic cup, so I served her some of the Tempranillo wine I'd brought with me, then used the top of my water bottle as a makeshift cup for myself.

"Cheers!" She grinned at me.

"Salute!" I touched my cup to hers.

We ate in a companionable silence for a few minutes, then she started to get more comfortable, tossing off her shoes to the side.

"Why was your friend mad?" I asked her as I ate.

"Paola always mad." She rolled her eyes and did a little flourish with her hand. "Today she want to go to—eh, how say— falò—fire?"

"A fire?" I frowned. "A bonfire?"

"Yes! Buon fire! Good fire!"

I chuckled. "You don't want to go?"

"Maybe fun, but loud. I like eating."

"I like eating, too."

"You read Italiano?" She pointed at my copy of I Malavoglia.

"Trying to. When in Rome, you know..."

"Eh. When in Roma, do as the Romans do?"

"Right!"

"We not in Roma." She smiled.

"No, this place is much nicer."

"You pick a sad book. Where are you live?"

"I live in New York."

"Just like Friends! I love New York!"

"Yep! Where Friends was."

"How you doin'?" she quoted while she tilted her head up at me.

I laughed loudly. "Pivot! Pivot! PIVOT!"

We laughed until tears ran down my eyes. It was so silly that despite the geographic and linguistic gaps between us, we could still laugh at something in common — not to mention, the mutual interest in awesome food.

"Tell me more about New York!" she said excitedly.

"It's loud, fast, and fun. You can dance all night until it's almost morning."

She giggled. "You no sleep?"

"Nope! Why sleep when you can dance?"

She laughed harder. "I have friend now. I visit New York, you take me dancing."

"Deal!" I held my hand out, and she shook it, wholly amused. "I'll be your tour guide!"

"Bene." She held her hand to mine for a second longer as she looked in my eyes. Her phone rang, and it made her jump.

She picked it up. "Pronto! Sto bene. No, non sono stato ucciso. Bene! Sarò lì presto! Cazzo! Si, ciao ciao."

She hung up, then sighed.

"You have to go?" I asked.

"Yes. Paola is wait."

"Piacere di conoscerti, Emmi."

"You too, Veek." She paused before she got up. "You want join us?"

"Yeah?"

"Yes. If you want."

"Okay!" I started to pack up.

"Where are you stay?"

"Uh, the Morelli house?"

"Yes, I know them. They are sweet. It is cold at water. Do you have sweater?"

"Yep! I'll go get it." We walked towards the main road.

"Meet me at last of via Vincenzo, okay? I live in yellow house on corner."

"Okay." We grinned at each other before separating at the road. I walked backwards, and she turned to look at me. I stumbled over a rock in the road, and she giggled as I waved my arms frantically to keep my balance.

Back in my room, I grabbed a jacket quickly, then stuffed a beanie in my pocket. I'd been planning on riding into town to see the architecture and find my way into a cathedral, but spending a night on the sand with Emilia was a much better idea.

As I walked downhill towards her home, I saw a home with a cobblestone wall full of gardenias. I picked one, discreetly, then spent the rest of the way making sure it was clean.

I found her house easily enough. It was a garish yellow house with pretty pink roses in the front. She was nowhere to be seen, so I walked up the path to knock on her front door.

A woman opened the door.

"Buona sera." I greeted politely. "Is Emilia here?"

"Emilia? Sei un suo amica?"

"Amica. Si. Vic." I pointed at myself.

"Entrare!"

I stepped inside, and she promptly sat me down in their kitchen, rummaging around to serve me lemonade and biscuits.

"Grazie!"

She rattled something off quickly, but I didn't catch any of it.

"Er... scusa non parlo Italiano molto bene."

She frowned at me, and just shouted severely, "Mangia! Mangia."

She kept rattling pots and pans while speaking rapidly. I munched on my biscuits, giving up on trying to understand her, and just looked around their kitchen. They had checkered curtains and multicolored tiles on the counter. It seemed like such a cozy place to live.

Emmi eventually came downstairs to find me in the kitchen.

She raised an eyebrow at me and smiled in amusement. "You meet my Nonna?"

"Uh, no. Not yet. I can't understand her." I grimaced.

"Nonna, questa è la mia nuova amica, Veek. Viene da Nuova York."

"Nuova York! Eu avuto un amante a Nuova York molti anni fa."

"Nonna!" Emmi shouted, scandalized.

All I understood was "lover" and "New York."

"Tua nonna era tutto pepe, tesoro."

They both laughed.

"Piacere, Nonna." I said.

"Piacere, Veek." She looked me up and down.

Emmi came over to my side. "Is that for me?" She glanced down at my gardenia.

"Oh! Yes!" I offered it to her, and she stuck her nose in it, relishing the perfume. "May I?" I extended my hand.

She handed it back, then I stood in front of her to ease it into her hair. The stark white of it contrasted against her dark brown hair. Her cheeks darkened in a blush, and I couldn't help but brush my knuckles against their warmth. I stepped back, and scratched the back of my neck, shy now.

Her Nonna was looking at us intently. "La gardenia significa gioia e purezza. Ti porterà fortuna."

I rose my eyebrows at Emmi in question.

"She say gardenias are—eh—joy and clean? Eh, pure. They have good luck."

"Oh!" I honestly didn't know that. It just smelled pretty. "That's cool."

She hummed in assent. "Andiamo alla spiaggia. tornerò più tardi." She kissed her Nonna on her cheek, then gave her a hug.

I approached Nonna, too, on the way out, but hesitated. She brought me in for a bone-crushing hug before shouting out a string of what must have been warnings to be safe, judging by the tone.

We stepped out into the rapidly cooling air. From the elevation, we could see the water from the road.

"Your Nonna is nice," I remarked.

"Un amore." She smiled softly. "My mother and father died in accident when I young. Nonna is my mama."

"I'm sorry about your parents."

She was silent. "Thank you for my flower." She caressed the petals at her ear.

"You're welcome."

We made eye contact, and a little thrill ran down my spine. I had to calm down. I shouldn't expect anything from her especially since I'd be leaving in a few days.

My newfound resolution to slow down flew out the window as her warm hand slipped into mine. I resisted the urge to squeeze the life out of her in my excitement, and just squeezed lightly to show my appreciation. I couldn't hide my giant grin as we strolled down that fragrantly perfumed street. It smelled like eucalyptus and maybe bay trees.

"I'm leaving soon. On Monday." I confessed.

"I start University soon," she stated.

"Oh, really? Where?"

"I don't know." She wasn't more forthcoming after that.

I imagined she would miss her Nonna if she moved away.

"What do you work?" she asked.

"I'm a graphic designer for a cosmetic company."

"You draw?"

I chuckled. "Yes. I draw for a living. It's not—" I stuttered while I tried to get my thoughts together. "I do what people tell me to do." I frowned.

She hummed. "You need draw what they tell you."

"Right! It's not as fun as it sounds. But — I'm pretty good at it."

She smiled at me.

"What about you?" I questioned.

"I like — shil-chulds..." she struggled with the word. "Bambinos."

"Children."

"Children! Yes! I want to teach."

"You would be an amazing teacher."

"You don't know..." she countered.

"Well, you are nice and smart. All the kids would love you."

"Grazie." She said softly.

"Prego."

We got to the beach in no time, and her friends were building the logs in the pit in the distance.

We separated our hands as we walked down the cement stairs to the sand. I tied my shoelaces together, then held my shoes in my hand.

"Emmi!" She was immediately greeted by a little group of friends.

"Ciao, Alessia." They air kissed as we approached. "This is my new friend, Veek. She is traveling from America."

"Buona sera, Veek! We speak Eenglish! No problem!"

I grinned at them. "Thank you! It's nice to meet you all!"

Emmi continued to introduce everyone. "This is Alessia, Gabriella, Feddi, Anna, Edoardo."

I waved at everyone, and they offered a smile in turn.

"Thank you for letting me join today."

"You are welcome forever!" someone said.

Everyone went back to their conversations in Italian, and Emmi led me to the coolers, handing me a beer.

She fixed me a plate of cold cuts and cheese.

"Thank you!"

She got close, then gestured to the boys building the fire pit.

I looked over, and they were trying to put it in a little mountain to encourage airflow. "What?"

"You see Paola?" She whispered.

Paola was attached to the side of one of the cuter boys with curly hair and plump lips.

"Is that her boyfriend?"

"She tries. He won't go on date with her."

"Oh." I grimaced.

"She is persistent."

I looked away so I wouldn't get caught or draw attention to her. I looked at Emmi's beautiful face instead. No way in hell did she not turn every single head here. Everywhere really. I took a sip of my beer before I said something stupid.

"Come walk." She led the way down the beach, leaving behind her friends.

The sun was dipping into the horizon as we munched and drank.

"This place is beautiful," I said in wonder with a little soft sigh.

"There many beautiful places in Italy. Have you visit many places?"

"Uh, Verona, Roma, Liguria, here, and hopefully some more places in a couple of years."

"Liguria is beautiful. Good food."

"Yum." My mouth salivated as I remembered the fresh focaccia bread I'd daydream about for years to come.

"I happy you come to small village," she said softly.

"Me too. It's turning out to be more exciting than I expected." I grinned crookedly at her, and she smiled shyly back at me. "I was expecting to just read and lounge."

"Dolce far niente."

"Huh?" I didn't know that phrase.

"The sweetness of doing nothing," she translated.

I repeated the phrase, chewing it over in my mouth and in my mind. "Yes. I wanted to taste that."

"It something you practice. Nonna teach me how to live. Sometimes things are important, but life always important."

I nodded as I took in her words. I sighed again as it trickled like cold water into the folds of my brain. It was so refreshing. The humid night contrasted with the cleansing of my soul, aided by the calm presence of the gorgeous girl next to me.

We were getting further and further away from her friends, but I could see the beginnings of a fire start up as I looked back.

There was about of a quarter of the sun still peeking out when she wordlessly sat down. I copied her. She stole prosciutto and cheese from my plate while we silently watched the day die.

We finished everything, then set the bottles and plate aside.

I watched intently as the tiny last glow disappeared, smiling at the umpteenth sunset I'd watched in my life. Every single one was special and, in the moment, always promised to be the best thing you'd ever felt in your life. That is until Emmi leaned into me and pressed her lips to mine.

Oh, fuck.

The skin of her lips was flawless. The feeling made my center clench violently while I slipped my hand into her side then onto her back, under her sweater, feeling some stray grains of sand against my fingertips. She straddled me as she gripped the hair at the back of my head. I struggled to catch my breath.

I desperately wanted to touch her everywhere but didn't know what would be allowed. I tried to live in the moment like she'd just mentioned to me not even fifteen minutes ago; fixate on her breath, on the taste of her mouth, and the electricity that the graze of her lips on mine shocked me with.

If I spoke perfect Italian, I could express all that to her, but as it was, I just kissed her as if it was the last time I would have a chance to touch her.

She pulled at my hair, separating us. She smiled brightly at me, then pecked my lips once.

I looked in her eyes hazily, already so far gone.

"Um... dolce far niente?" I asked.

"That was not nothing." She smirked at me.

"No. Yeah, no. That was something." I nodded dumbly.

She ducked her head to mouth at my neck.

"Geez. You're really good at this." I shuddered. The fresh air from the ocean did absolutely nothing to cool my overheated blood. "Can I touch you?" I whispered.

"Where?" She asked playfully.

I palmed down her back and stopped at the hem of her shorts. I dipped my hand further up her sweater to find she wasn't wearing a shirt. I went as slow as possible, giving her time to stop me. Her back was so soft.

"Here." I dug my fingers a little into her shoulder blades over the strap of her swimsuit top. "And other places, if you want."

She looked in my eyes, fiercely, then gripped the edge of my jaw as she leaned in to claim my mouth again, upping the ante. Damn, she's hot.

My tongue caressed hers. Her hips were digging harder into me. I licked the bottom of her jaw, and she moaned loudly. I panicked.

"Shh!" I looked towards the fire where her friends were.

"Scusa." She giggled. "Later?"

"Fuck, yes."

"Cazzo. That is how you say 'fuck.'"

"Cazzo." I repeated. "This whole day is cazzo awesome!" I exclaimed, making her laugh.

She pecked my lips then my cheek. Gripping my chin, she forced me to look in her eyes.

"If you not have plans, maybe we have... fun?"

I nodded, then realized she probably needed a verbal answer. "Yes! Whatever you want. I'm in."

She smiled, and as I leaned in for another kiss, she retreated. She got up, then helped me up. We tossed our trash in a nearby trash can. I stole glances at her as we walked, admiring the hair whipping around her face.

If this was temporary, it would be okay. Just a blip of delicious emotion compressed into just a limited amount of time. It was fine. It didn't matter that I was already — I stopped myself. That train of thought was not in the spirit of dolce far niente.

If she was all right with it being temporary, then I was too.

"Hey, is my hair okay?" I asked her.

She examined me, patted down the back of my head, then fixed the curl over my forehead. "Bella!"

I looked her over, too, and deemed her perfect.

We got back to her friends to pull up beach chairs close to the fire.

"Hi Paola!" I greeted with a smile.

"Ciao, Veek." She said halfheartedly. She looked between me and Emmi, not disguising her scowl at all.

I was interrogated by some of her friends. Everyone was under the impression I knew celebrities. I entertained them but downplayed the glamour of New York City, instead asking them questions about growing up in their part of the world.

At one point, Emmi got so tipsy, she thumped down on my lap, then played with my fingers while I spoke to her friends.

She apparently forgot my Italian was crap and just whispered in my ear, "Veek, puoi sciogliermi un po' di cioccolato?"

I shuddered at her warm breath in my ear. I didn't understand anything except my name and "chocolate" but I assumed she wanted one of the pastries with melted chocolate everyone was eating.

"Okay. But you would have to get off me first." I whispered back.