JOHN SHEA
199
"Give me a bit of time and
I'll
figure them out. But here's a word
for you now:
caramella.
One of my favorites."
"Say it again?"
"Caramella.
Ca-hra-meL-la! It means candy." She tried it, rushing
past the foreign
r
and collapsing the two
L's
into a single slack one.
"Repeat:
caramella.
Linger over those
L's!
Taste them!" She tried it
once more, with a reasonable amount of success. "Excellent. Lesson
one concluded."
"I've got to go. This milk seems to be leaking. But thanks.
Maybe you could give me a list of good places to see." He nodded
and watched her hurry past , her arms grappling with the bag that
was rapidly losing its shape.
"And watch out for those Italian men, " he called to her. She
looked back, waiting for the elevator, and shook her head vigor–
ously. Before it came, he left the building and headed toward the
university campus.
III
She had revealed her plight soon after her return , on the whole
still exhilarated, tanned perfectly from lazy hours on the Mediter–
ranean beaches outside Rome where, she proudly told him, she had
first met her dark Italian . Something had happened-love ? at least
that was what she felt - and for the next three weeks they were never
apart. He was her guide, her chaperone, leading her through the
chilly catacombs with the assurance of a Christian revenant, leading
her through the awkward crowds of tourists who muddled and
gawked in the sun-blessed piazzas , leading her to the choicest pieces
of art, appreciated only by the cognoscenti whose ranks she was
thrilled to join, if only for a brief time, leading her, with casual grace
and unbuttoned shirt, to their regular table at Tempio di Bacco for
the best lasagne - "green," she exclaimed - in the city. The three
weeks had been filled to bursting with sights, moments, exciting
bustle, perilous rides on his Vespa along the older, cobblestone
streets, languorous days spent at the shore doing nothing more
strenuous than chasing each other through the mild waves or tossing
the mandatory , international Frisbee. But quickly, shockingly, it
was gone. He had seen her off at Fiumicino Airport, his face drawn,
his eyes dusky with sadness barely contained. As she trudged down
