Jan. 16, 2013, 12:43 p.m.
Under The Tuscan Sun: Chapter 4
E - Words: 1,122 - Last Updated: Jan 16, 2013 Story: Closed - Chapters: 15/? - Created: Oct 30, 2012 - Updated: Jan 16, 2013 422 0 0 0 0
She greeted him warmly, introduced herself as Bianca and welcomed him to her family’s hotel. Her father, the man from the night before, had told her that an American had rented a room late last night. She spoke very good English and gave Kurt a few ideas of places in the town to visit during his next few days as she bustled around the lobby, brewing coffee in a large pot and setting out newspapers and magazines. Bianca invited him to join her family for dinner than night, as Kurt was the only guest at the time. He thanked her and said he would, but fully intending on returning to his room with a bottle of wine and his sorrow come dinnertime.
“You must join us! It is just my father, my self and my sons, and Papa cooks so much for the four of us.” She shoved a cup of black coffee into his hands and he took a sip, wincing at how strong it was.
“Well, I guess I can come. I mean, it’s not like I have other plans or know anyone else is Montelunato.” Kurt took another tiny sip of the coffee, trying not to seem rude. “Should I bring anything? I’d like to contribute something.”
“Oh, no! That’s not necessary. You are our guest, Kurt!” She smiled broadly and Kurt got the feeling that their hotel didn’t have a lot of guests. He finally relented and head outside into the bright morning light.
The people of the town were heading to work and getting their children ready for the day. Kurt took his camera out of his bag and took a few pictures of the buildings. Just because he was hiding on practically the other side of the world didn’t mean he had to forget his job.
He had planned to study musical theatre in college but a stroke of luck had found him working in the offices of Vogue.com. Seven years later, he had risen from lowly intern to assistant editor of the website still under his friend and mentor, Isabelle Wright. She had been incredibly understanding when Kurt called her and told her he would be gone for the next week and a half and why. She even told him to put everything on the company credit card provided he took his camera with him and pieced together a new section of the website from his trip.
Kurt wandered back to the town square, or piazza as Bianca had called it, and snapped a picture of the stature Marina had been describing the day before. He knelt on the ledge at it’s base and took a picture of the church steeple from a low angle. It was Wednesday and hundreds of children waiting for the school doors to open were running amok around him. He snapped a few shots at a low shudder speed of the children just to see what would happen.
The doors of the school opened and several adults, teachers presumably, came out and shouted over the children. One of them was the man from the day before. He and the other adults were raising their hands over their hands, orchestrating the children into groups before heading in. Kurt hurriedly took a photo of the man with his arms over his head.
Today the man wore dark red slacks and a black shirt with another bowtie but Kurt couldn’t tell what color it was. He looked through the viewfinder of his camera and zoomed in on the man. Stripes, he thought. It’s striped. His hair wasn’t gelled today, his curls laying loosely against his forehead. The final group, the one the man was in charge of, also the oldest children, headed inside and Kurt slid his camera into his bag.
He didn’t know why he was so intrigued by this man. He hadn’t spoken a word to him and had only seen him for a few minutes total. But there was something about him that drew him to him. Kurt swallowed and his stomach growled in hunger. Kurt stuffed his camera back in his bag and went off in search of a bakery for his breakfast. Locating one and with a pastry in hand, Kurt spent the day walking through the main parts of town. Around four he headed back to the hotel and napped for a little while before Pietro, Bianca’s father, knocked on his door to invite him to dinner.
Kurt pulled his vest back on and went down the stairs with Pietro. He was led into the section of the building where the family lived. Pietro spoke to him in a mix of English and Italian, ushering him into the large kitchen.
“Sit, sit!” Pietro insisted, pointing to a chair at the already set table. Kurt poured himself and his host a glass of wine. He offered it to Pietro, which he accepted, and sat in the chair. Pietro stirred at various pots on the stovetop, chattering away. Kurt nodded along and said ‘Yes’ when it felt appropriate until Bianca joined them. He stood to greet her and she pulled him into a hug, surprising him. A tall man, a few years older than Kurt was behind her and he shook Kurt’s hand. He was handsome, so handsome that Kurt got a little flustered, and spoke English with a light British accent.
“Kurt, this is my oldest son, Cooper. He is home for vacation from America,” Bianca told him. “I hope he meets a nice girl while he’s home and decides to stay.”
“Mamma--” Cooper started.
“Mamma, what? I miss you, Cooper. You don’t visit your mama enough.” She tousled Cooper’s hair as he sat across from Kurt.
Cooper shook his head and smirked at Kurt. “Mothers are all the same, no?”
Kurt nodded in a agreement, sipping from his wine glass, silently wishing his mother was alive to guilt trip him. He loved Carole, his stepmother, but she would never replace his mother, no matter how many years had passed.
“Mamma! Nonno! Sono a casa!” a voice called out. Kurt turned and saw another man enter the kitchen, set his bag down and kiss Bianca and Pietro on the cheek and pull Cooper into a good natured hug. It was the man from the school.