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The next day, my mum informed my father and me that the countess had invited us to join their family for dinner on the following Friday. I wanted nothing more than to beg off, and I would, feigning some sort of illness when the day arrived. I had no interest in seeing Pia…Well, I did, but I didn’t want to argue with her or have her question me further about Paolo. I’d learned my lesson, and I’d not be butting in again. Besides, if they weren’t broken up, he might be there, and that, I knew I couldn’t stomach.
Turned out he was there, as was I. Pia acted as though nothing had happened between us, and while I wouldn’t say she was openly demonstrative toward him, she didn’t appear angry either.
Pia’s father, though, was quite pleased her boyfriend was present, and less so that I was.
He and Paolo spoke in Italian most of the night, no matter how much scolding the countess gave them.
I didn’t care. In fact, if neither said a word to me ever again, that would be perfectly okay by me.
I couldn’t say the same for Pia. The longer the meal stretched on, along with the more wine she drank, the longer the daggers became she shot in her boyfriend’s direction.
“Come with me,” she said, shortly after we finished eating the main course. She grabbed my hand and took off running through the vineyard, trailing me—the clambering elephant to Pia’s gazelle—behind her.
When we came out of the other side of the long row of grapevines, the setting sun cast first the shorter wavelengths of violet and blue and, within what seemed like seconds, the longer ones of red, yellow, and orange upon the pool of water in front of us.
“Do you know how to swim?” she asked, slowly unbuttoning the tiny beads on the front of her dress.
“Of course I do, but…”
“But…what?”
“I don’t have my togs.”
“Togs?”
“Swim trunks.”
“You English, so prosaici.”
I stepped closer and wrapped my hands around her wrists, stopping her from undressing further. I turned her in my arms so she faced away from me. “What’s going on, Pia? Is your boyfriend ignoring you?”
She struggled, but I held on tight.
“What do you think will happen if he finds us swimming together? Will he pay attention then?”
“Non so di che cosa stai parlando.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I said, perhaps surprising her that I understood. I let her go, and she spun back around on me. Before she could speak, I grasped her arms. “Don’t use me to make him jealous.”
“Sei pazzo.”
I let her go and walked away. Instead of going in the direction of the villa, I turned toward the farmhouse, leaving the beautiful, breathtaking Pia standing alone in the rays of the setting sun.
“Where did you run off to last night?” my mum asked the next morning when I came downstairs.
“I didn’t feel well.”
She raised a brow. “You and Pia left at the same time.”
I loaded my plate with fruit and walked out to the terrazza where my father sat reading.
“Enjoying your time in Italy?” he asked, peering up at me with a smirk.
I shook my head and smiled, like him, noticing that Pia was headed our way.
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Pia
