Munching on the last bites of the delicious pizza she thought how two days had passed since she arrived in Florence. Art museums, piazzas, churches and palaces kept her glued, the renaissance era evident in every architectural masterpiece. Every cobbled street made her feel close to home. In forty-eight hours she would head back to her country, she had decided.
Just as she steered out through the crowded Gusta Pizza, she saw a familiar figure walking towards her. The double take was unmistakable. The last she had seen him, a few years ago, he had been that ever smiling triangular faced guy, his boyish charms now grown into handsome features. At 5.9 ft, he still carried the lean muscular built, fitness freak she remembered. She grinned at her own silliness. It was him.
“Are you day-dreaming or equally shocked to see me here?” he asked as he approached her.
Hesitating for a moment, she wondered; had he forgotten everything? Let bygones be bygones. “What brings you to this medieval city?” she inquired still dumbfound.
“Leisure brings me here. Exploring Italy until another watch starts tomorrow before noon.”
She glanced at her wrist watch. It was quarter past four in the evening; she had an hour and a half left. “Any plans for tonight?”
“I’m sure you have something amazing brewing in your mind,” he said delightfully.
“Be my guest” she grinned and walked him to her rented apartment near the Uffizi gallery to gather her things. Her small backpack was ready by the ottoman. He looked out at the view her living room window had to offer while she had a quick change of clothes. She wore a white tank top, with a zipped warm layer, denims, and comfortable boots. Just to be sure, she observed his attire. He wore a striped full sleeved t-shirt, corduroy pants, and comfy shoes. Impressive, yet she grabbed her leather jacket and handed him.
“You would require this later.”
He gave a puzzled look. “Don’t worry, the jacket is unisex,” she teased, “When was the last you ate?”
“Around noon. Let’s grab a bite, shall we?” he insisted.
She gathered her things, her backpack, cell-phone, house and car keys. And they headed straight for All’Antico Vinaio, an eating joint few blocks away from her building; the best sandwiches in Florence were served here.
The place was modest with a variety of things on the platter, but was too crowded. He noticed they had the same store across the street to reduce waiting lines which was far from reality. People clustered here to try the cheapest sandwiches and wine. They settled on a corner table and waited for the food.
“So, Florence on a study trip or exploring?” he asked after studying her for a while. She hadn’t changed a bit. Her warm and lively eyes were as expressive as ever. Her skin tone, a shade darker this time but it had a distinct radiance to it. He wondered what did she do for a living now?
“I have always admired the Renaissance. I had a week’s time before moving back home. I utilised it quite well here,” she replied. “Where are you harboured in Tuscany?” she asked.
“At Livorno,” he replied as he hogged on the delicious sandwiches. "60 miles from here.”
Between the bites she asked, “Aren’t the oceans daunting?” she was curious now. The waters had been her weakness since her childhood. She always felt like venturing into the sea.
“I joined this line because of the thrill. It sounds exciting to people who aren’t in my profession; but when you actually face a storm, when you face pirates, there is no thrill. If there is any thrill then it’s gone to a level where it is too dangerous.” He paused, took a sip of his cold wine and continued. “So it is either no big deal or life and death.”
She paid little attention to the cheese dripping off her humongous sandwich as she listened to him intently; she had always craved to know the real life of a mariner. It involved a great risk. “How does it feel while facing a storm or having a brush with it, in the middle of nowhere?”
“When there is a storm, well, you can’t sleep at night. The ship rolls so violently that you would be thrown off your bed.” He recalled the havoc wrecked by the high waves and strong winds. She got goosebumps at the mere thought of it.
“Perhaps we should make a move or we shall be late,” she told him. She stood, paid the bills and took him by his arm leading the way to her parked VW convertible.
