Project 3 draft 1

Her hair was long and vanilla colored blond with sun shining off of it. Her hands looked older then her age and her face was delightful and young by day and drawn and old by night after a wine bottle. Her dress was soft and floated on her thin frame and the white bright sweater was perfect for the weather of six in the morning. She was smiling so large and shaking a tiny bit from the excitement of the possibilities ahead. Her heals clicked on the airport tiles and helped her rise to 5 feet 5.They were three inch heels. Her teeth looked like she had done drugs or had an eating disorder somewhere in the semi-distant past. Her purse was expensive but not for her as it was bought at a high end fashion house with her employee discount.

When she spoke to the counter person for the busses back to Milan she sounded sweet in one sentence and callous in the next. She apologized and fretted about choosing the bus as travel mode instead of the train. She was worried that it wouldn’t be perfect. She doesn’t understand that nothing is perfect and trying to be perfect leads to great flaws and problems. She smelled so woman like, and she was so feminine and little crunching into the man who’s arm she held to. She was thirty three but had the quality’s of a nineteen year old who still felt love is more important than jobs, food, and water.

She loved her American; she found him on Facebook three years earlier and spent two evenings with him in New York a year or two previous to this second moment with him. She knew how stupid the whole thing sounded out loud so she kept some details to herself. After the trip ended she would have a pregnancy scare and that would compound the reality of the internet. She imaged telling her friends of her new love and husband who she meant on Facebook from America and that she got pregnant during their second meeting, but their first quality meeting. She would appear to be a scammer trying to get to the USA by any means necessary. She wanted him and a baby with him, but not with this horrible story attached. But she would not abort either. She had done this many years earlier and it caused her great pain emotionally she would say to the few people she told about it. This topic alone drove her slightly mad.

Weeks after he had left there was much confusion in her belly and back. She was holistic so she was wrapped in plastic wrap with ointments added. She prayed to Buddha. She also had to make a trip to the hospital of normal medication. The American was insensitive to her needs,he wanted her to take a pregnancy test right away, he didn’t understand that she felt she should wait till her fashion house job ended forty five days from that time. She didn’t want to cry at work if she were with child. How could he be so cruel?

As she led her American threw Milan she stopped for espresso and a croissant, she called this breakfast. After finally getting him back to her sister’s apartment she pushed him onto the bed in the hot still Italian summer air. Pulling her dress above her head and leaving her heels on, she climbed atop the bed pulling his cloths from him as he pulled away her bra and panties. Two and a half years on Skype and now they were finally flesh to flesh. Her skin was soft and her breasts were cute and small but perfect. Her shoulders were dainty and her hips weren’t wide but still with the figure of a slim woman. She slid herself down him until they had an hour of hot summer, deprived and anticipated sex. Sweat was everywhere it was like it rained warm water into the bed. He passed out from the flight and the sex and the heat as she headed out to meet her father for a short term loan until her check arrived.

She would explain four or five times over the course of the week how she will end the friendship with the best friend in Tuscany who has ruined her hard work and plans to make this vacation with this foreign lover the perfect experience. The ex –best friend and her husband had many times over stayed her apartment with their baby when visiting Milan. Then she would go to her sister’s home for the week, she did this every month for a year. But on this trip they could not accommodate the situation for her and her sister hated them anyway. This friend would ruin what was to be the perfect trip. This is why she needed the loan from her father.

The first evening she had a friend with a car and a boyfriend that spoke English came to get them.They drove around Milan and walked through cobble stone trendy streets and stood in front of the Castle and threw up their middle fingers along with the statue that does the same across the street from Milan’s government building. Walked through the squares and drank the champagne from the region. “You are so different tonight” the friend said in Italian. The American made her different and the surging feelings and compulsions to complain and be jaded and negative had subsided for awhile.

She was tipsy that evening and it was the night after this that led to the next step. She brought the American to her friend the Brazilian English speaking divorcees home.  The Brazilian was an ex-model and she had her friend the South African ex-model with her. The American and the Brazilian smoked marijuana the Brazilian and the Vanilla haired girl drank wine and the South African and the American drank water.

While driving to pizza it was the perfect lighting the perfect weather the perfect speed the perfect music, the girls danced and drove even the American sang and danced a little. Everyone felt perfect and the night guided itself and our travelers. Back at the Brazilians’, the South African left the Brazilian and the American smoked more and She drank more wine, she was now drunk and sluggish. She showered the American with attention and danced like a stripper. When he felt uncomfortable and reached out to calm her down, she mistook this as a sexual move and said” nooo not in my girlfriends’ home”.  For the three block walk he held her with one arm as she moved her feet in the air, simulating sober person walking. As they walked past the hooker, “Amore” she said “I don’t like feeling like this”.

She passed out like a drunken girl in any country on earth. The American was up all night. Stressing out and smoking even though he had quit. He had to clean up a fallen ashtray from under the bed and he had to clean up cat shit from the kitchen floor and he watched the hookers down below from the balcony unable to sleep. He set the alarm on his cell phone that was charging in her laptop but of no phone use in Italy. The American fell asleep at daylight and woke up at eight am to his alarm. He knew she would melt down to nothing if he didn’t get her to get them to the train station in time. The train they had reservations for that would be taking them to Legendary Venice.

She was happy on the train with her amore. The disgusting sweaty and girthy pig of a man next to her didn’t even bother her. She smiled at the American and was blissfully in love, she wanted espresso and Marlboro lights badly. She didn’t even remember the previous night past the point where they returned to the Brazilians. She remembered a beautiful night with her friends and her amore. She did know something was off because the American seemed a little different.

The landscape of Italy was like that of California and Texas at first as the train left the station and entered the rural areas. Horses, corn, mountains, dry brown grasses. The lake was different though. The lake you could see from the train was a frosty glowing white blue. It was more refreshing to look at then most water is to drink.