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“Luisa. I like my hair. It’s practical and it stays out of the way. Thank you for your kind thoughts on the matter.”
We don’t say anything until we get to the suite, which is so beautiful I wander in with wide eyes.
“Can I get you a drink or anything?” Luisa says dropping her bag on the plush damask couch. The room overlooks the rooftops with a view of the Hudson River and New Jersey beyond.
“No thanks,” I say instinctively, then I follow up with, “… maybe something cold and fizzy? A Coke or Sprite?”
“Sure.” Luisa walks off to a cupboard and opens the door to a mini fridge. She retrieves some ice from the ice box and empties the contents of one can into two glasses, then brings them both over to where I’m sitting on the couch. She hands me a glass and sits down beside me.
“Your English is excellent. Where did you learn?” I ask.
“London. And I can speak Spanish, Portuguese, German, and I’m learning Japanese and Putonghua. But Papa says English is most important because it is the language of business.”
Luisa talks about her new school. She is excited and doesn’t seem at all concerned about being in a foreign country and leaving her family behind.
“And what about your mom? Is she coming to New York too?”
“Oh no. I don’t have a mom, silly. I have Papa, Nonna and Nonno.” She counts each name on her fingers. The way Luisa said ‘silly’ snipped my line of inquiry like scissors cutting ribbon. Right. No mom. We sip our drinks quietly.
After a while Luisa says, “Can I style your hair?”
“No. Thanks, but no.”
She puts down her glass and leaves the room. Moments later she comes back with a pink make-up bag.
“I know you like your hair as it is, but I’d like to try a style on you.”
“I have work to do now, Luisa.”
“Yes. Perfect. I need you to stay still while I style your hair. Go ahead. I don’t mind at all.”
What was I going to do? All the child wanted was to give my hair a brush. To be honest, I can’t remember the last time it was brushed properly. I give it a cursory comb in the morning to get it into a hair-tie and Alice band, and that’s about it. I pull my laptop out of my bag and turn it on.
“You have to sit here,” Luisa says patting the ottoman. “So, I can get around the back.”
I shift my position and log in using the room’s internet access code as Luisa gently pulls the elastic hair tie from my hair, releasing the ponytail, which doesn’t fall loose straight away.
“What’s your house like in Italy?” I ask, feeling more relaxed with the rhythmic strokes of Luisa’s brush.
“Which one?”
“There’s more than one?”
She laughs. “Of course!”
“Well, tell me about the one where you spend most time. When you think of home, where do you think of?”
“Oh, that’s easy. Nonna’s house. It’s in the country, in the hills near Firenze. I love it there. I have my room and there’s a swimming pool and at Christmas, the whole family comes and there’s so much food!” Luisa pauses and thinks for a while. “And my pony is there. Snowy. I miss her.” Luisa stops brushing my hair, then says brightly. “You should come and stay. Why not? You will be my guest. I’ll show you everything all around. Have you been to Firenze?” I nod slowly. “Then you know how beautiful it is.” My hair falls either side, over my shoulders. I’m finding it difficult to concentrate. “Do you have a pony?”
Luisa’s question makes me laugh. “No. No, I don’t. I would have loved a pony when I was growing up, but there’s nowhere to keep one in the city.” I type a reply to an email about restoration of one of the paintings in the exhibition space. “I have a cat.”
“I love cats. What’s its name? Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Contessa. Her name is Contessa. And she is beautiful. Fluffy and white. And I love her.”
“I would love to meet her, Olivia. Maybe when Papa gets back, we can all go to your house?”
A snort of derisive laughter escapes my lips. I turn it into a cough. I can just imagine suave, arrogant Gianni and his daughter in my shoddy little apartment. The idea is ludicrous.
