Expiration Dating Read online

  After I got outside, I realized Roberto wasn’t following me anymore. I sat on the stoop and waited for him to find the door. When he emerged, I saw him holding a bag. I didn’t let myself think for a second that – maybe. Okay, I did think for a second.

  Then, I knew for a fact as he extended the bag to me. I didn’t even bother to look as I squealed and hugged him. As I began to protest how he shouldn’t have, I saw a familiar shock of hair out of the corner of my eye. I stepped back from Roberto, and he followed my gaze.

  “You know this boy?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I am in school with him.”

  “We say hello?” he suggested.

  “Okay,” I said, unsure if I wanted Andrew to see us or not. He noticed us at that moment, anyway, and it was too late to decide otherwise.

  “Hey,” I said to Andrew.

  “Hey, yourself,” he said with his eyes shifting towards Roberto. “Your plans?”

  “Hello, I am Roberto, Dana’s – how do you say – boyfriend?” Roberto said while putting his arm around my back and drawing me in. I was taken aback.

  “Boyfriend?” I said turning to face him.

  “You like?” he asked.

  “We’re not…” I trailed off.

  “It’s cool, I should be going anyways,” Andrew said. “Nice to see you.”

  The rest of the afternoon with Roberto was pleasant, but I had a hard time fully enjoying it because seeing Andrew was such a damper. We ate a nice lunch, walked through more pricey stores and shared a gelato outside of a beautiful museum. I was still slightly distracted. I made up an excuse to head home before dinner because I felt bad about not telling Andrew about Roberto earlier. I headed to his house to explain.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  I knocked on the door and Cesare answered.

  “Hey, is Andrew around?” I asked.

  Cesare simply nodded and lumbered away, leaving the door gaping open. He didn’t once look up from the beer he was nursing. Poor guy’s stench had only increased from Day One and was now approaching the unbearable zone. I still didn’t understand how his roommates dealt with it.

  I found Andrew in his room, streaming some TV episode on his computer. He looked up, seemed surprised I was there. He proceeded to watch the screen as if never interrupted.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, not sounding excited to see me.

  “I wanted to talk to you.” I straightened my shoulders, not liking the pleading sound my voice had adopted. “I didn’t wanna wait until coffee tomorrow.”

  “Good,” he said, shifting the laptop around, “because it turns out I have plans and can’t make it.”

  “Andrew,” I said. “He doesn’t mean anything. I meant to tell you about it, but it’s new. We’re not dating; I’ve only been out to eat with him once. He’s just Italian and doesn’t understand the English meaning of boyfriend.”

  “Why would I care, anyway?” Andrew asked.

  “I don’t know, I just thought I owed it to tell you. We can talk about this stuff, right? You usually think these stories are funny. And plus you talk about your girlfriend all the time.”

  “Ex, girlfriend,” Andrew snapped, his gaze focused on the wall above his computer.

  “Sorry, ex,” I said. “Look, I just wanted to make sure we could stay friends. You’re really important to me – you’re like a piece of home and a best friend all wrapped up in one. It would be a lot harder to be here without you.”

  Andrew looked up and relented. “Of course we’re still friends.”

  Mission accomplished, I left Andrew engrossed in his show and went straight home this time. I was happy Andrew understood, and I was relieved this wouldn’t affect our friendship. I had been truthful about how important he was to me. Life was looking up again.

  The next week, I found myself enjoying a normal routine. Andrew and I reestablished our friendship over a few coffees and a couple more cribbage losses notched on my belt.

  At the same time, I went on a few more dates with Roberto. Andrew and I avoided the subject, though I was sure he knew where I went on the afternoons we didn’t spend together. Roberto and I were… progressing. We’d wander through cafés, window shop in the nicer areas of the city, and chat about the topic en vogue. He chatted more than I did; a lot more.

  “Shoes, see, I like those, and those, and these…” Roberto continued to drone on. I found myself wondering why the‘t’ in those sounded like a ‘z.’ Accents were funny things.

  “Zoes – not so much. Zeez, yes…”

  He’s still talking?

  “Dana, you see zoes? Zoes shoes?”

  “Those?” I asked with deliberate pronunciation.

  “Yes, zoes. You upset with me?”

  “No, no I’m sorry.” I hadn’t meant to be rude, but something inside me must have snapped. He’d been talking about shoes for three days and hadn’t once asked about my classes. Or anything for that matter.

  “I guess I’m just tired,” I said. “Zoes look nice.”

  I smiled and winked, hoping he caught that I wasn’t mocking him.

  “But zoes…” He didn’t even notice. I glanced around at the shops, and he must have finally caught onto my lack of interest in his shoe narrative. He pointed to a small hut. “You would like a gelato?”

  “Yes!”

  We sat on a bench, sharing the gelato. I didn’t mind his commentary now that I had something much more important to focus on; keeping my gelato in a perfect cone shape would take some work, it was dripping like crazy.

  “But zen if you stay here with me-”

  “I can’t stay here, Roberto. I have a year of school left.”

  “Yes, but I come visit you. I always want to see California. You know Hollywood and everything. Maybe we stop in Miami and party?” He nudged my arm.

  “I’m from Minnesota.”

  “Ah, where iz this?”

  “Nowhere near Miami or Hollywood.”

  “Ah.” He took a first lick of his cone. I couldn’t believe he was letting it drip on the ground. Wasting perfect gelato. I just knew he’d throw it away before he was all the way finished. I couldn’t stand that habit. If I was with Andrew and he tried to do that, I’d take it right out of his hand and eat it myself. Unfortunately, Roberto and I weren’t to that point in our relationship.

  “Then we get married…”

  “What?” Maybe we were closer than I thought, and I’d just missed the memo.

  “You come back after school and we marry, you help me with zee shoes.”

  I froze, oblivious to the chocolate gelato winding its way around my pinky, wondering when we had gone from moderately interested in one another to engaged as a couple.

  I relaxed a bit, licking the errant hazelnut off my knuckle, as I realized he talked about every possibility as if it were a soon-to-be reality. After all, he’d told his mom about me after one meeting. I convinced myself to give him a break, chalking his fantasies up to his excitable imagination.

  As I finished the gelato, I glanced over, watching him examine his flawless nails. He was charming, polished, and successful – not to mention gorgeous, and there wasn’t much not to like. When I told him I wanted to take things slow, he told me he understood and didn’t really push me. He tried to sleep with me, but then again I would have been offended a tad if he didn’t.

  We walked back to his apartment after I finished my gelato and he threw his away, and had one of our steamy make-out sessions. After a lingering kiss, we lay flushed on his couch.

  “Lovemaking is a beautiful, natural thing between two people,” he said, staring past my eyes, through my skull.

  “It’s still beautiful and natural after dating for awhile,” I explained in the same tone.

  He left it at that, and we went on with our PG-13 make out sessions, quite enjoyable in my book.

  “You know I’m going to be going on spring break for two weeks,” I said as I slid into my jacket. “I’m going to Malta and Sicily with some
friends. Don’t worry, it’s all girls trip.”

  “Yes, yes, this is not a big deal. I leave tomorrow on a business trip for three weeks to Dubai.”

  “Oh.” He kissed me on the cheek, and closed the door seconds after I stepped outside. I mumbled to no one. “Nice to know.”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  After our last exam, Emilia, Megan and I went out for a celebratory drink to get spring break started. We shared a pizza and a bottle of wine, and discussed our plans for the upcoming travels.

  “I haven’t seen you guys in forever,” I said between bites. The mozzarella was soft and the basil was fresh; the smells wafting to my nose took my thoughts temporarily off the conversation.

  “Ditcher.” Megan guzzled wine without sympathy.

  “It’s been busy.” Emilia cut her pizza with a knife and ate it with a fork. I reached for a slice the old fashioned way, with my fingers.

  “So update me,” I said.

  “Megan’s been busy.” Emilia cast a quick glance in her direction.

  “What she means is I may or may not have brought Nick home on Tuesday,” Megan said. “It was lucky, though. My roommate walked in and saw us on the couch before things went… well, you know.”

  “Nick? You guys look like siblings,” I said. “Nearly sixty people in the program and you pick the kid that looks like your brother.”

  Emilia snorted in an uncharacteristic fashion. “I never thought of that. So true! It’s the curly hair.”

  Megan and Nick both had wildly curly, bleached blond hair. If they stood next to each other with their heads touching, you wouldn’t be able to tell where one of their fro’s ended and the other began. Nick even had hair down to his shoulders like Megan – from the back they could be twins.

  “Now enlighten us about your love triangle,” Megan said.

  “What do you mean, love triangle?” I asked.

  “You, Andrew, Roberto,” Emilia said.

  “Andrew and I are just friends,” I insisted, trying to free a piece of basil from between my two front teeth.

  “Mmhmm.” Emilia and Megan exchanged a glance.

  “I’m friends with Andrew, too, and I don’t hang out with him all the time,” Emilia said.

  “Yeah, but it’s complicated.” I wiped the basil on a napkin. “I have Roberto now, and Andrew still misses his stupid ex.”

  “I dunno,” Megan said. “You guys seem pretty friendly in class.”

  “Then why does he still talk about her?” I asked.

  “Well, you did go and get yourself a boyfriend-”

  “He’s not my boyfriend-”

  “Basically a boyfriend,” Emilia continued. “Not to mention, it’s not just some dude. It’s an Italian model that buys you stuff. Come on, of course he’s going to try and pretend like he doesn’t care.” She sipped her wine. “The question is… do you still care?”

  I sat in silent thought, picking at the food. “Of course I care, but-”

  “But what?” Emilia asked. “Why did you come to Italy?”

  I started mumbling an answer about my family being from Italy, and how I wanted to travel, but my answer came out unclear. “There were a lot of reasons.”

  “Bullshit, you were running away!” Emilia said. “You keep saying how your life was boring, how you were so stuck in a rut of school and work. On top of that there was all of this pressure from a scholarship and your parents.”

  She sliced another piece of pizza and looked up, “You came here to get away from it all.”

  Emilia let me stew for a second. I glanced around at the cobblestone courtyard. Italians with buggies flooded the streets, old men smoked and chatted outside bars and the trees were flowering in pinks and whites. Nobody seemed in a hurry.

  Sometimes all it took was having an outsider’s perspective to blow everything wide open. I suppose it should have seemed obvious, but self reflection wasn’t my strong suit, and I realized Emilia was right. I nodded.

  “Dana, that’s okay, we all avoid things. But running can’t always be your solution,” Emilia said.

  “But what does that mean for Andrew and Roberto?” I asked.

  “That’s for you to decide. I can’t tell you, but you need to figure it out based upon who you actually like, not who it won’t work out with.”

  “I don’t see it working out really with either of them. Listen, I really like Andrew. The thing is – is that I didn’t expect to get involved with him. We both fought it; him because of an ex and me because of… other reasons. But we gel and he gets me.” I took a few more bites of pizza, trying to organize my thoughts into coherent phrases. Another life skill I lacked.

  “Roberto, he’s great. He is successful, Italian, beautiful,” I stopped.

  “But?” Megan asked.

  “But he’s almost too polished. I sometimes feel like he wants me as a sidekick, as his token American girl. I don’t feel like he always listens when I talk to him, and he pretty much has his life planned out. Granted, it’s a great life, but I’m not sure if it’s mine, you know?” I looked at the girls.

  I was word vomiting my thoughts up, but I needed to talk to them more than I’d realized. “He would marry me. Like, MARRY me. I’m only twenty one!”

  Emilia and Megan both nodded in understanding.

  “The thing is, if Andrew and I work out, we’re still going back to different schools. We have a year of school each to finish, and we’ll be far apart. Andrew already says he doesn’t do distance, and I don’t see the point of dating when you know there’s an expiration date. That is our problem.”

  There was a moment of silence as the waiter cleared some empty plates and refilled our water glasses. I took a sip and continued, still swallowing my last bite, “I like Andrew a lot, but he has already said not to expect to even stay in contact when we get back in the states. I believe him, too. He dates people even when he knows there is an ending date, and I don’t understand it. Why would you do that? Why are you trying to get your heart broken?”

  I wasn’t even sure if the girls were still listening. “But then you have Roberto who would marry me the second I graduate. Why can’t they just find a happy medium?”

  Emilia patted my arm after my rant subsided. “I know it sucks, I have the same thing going on with Luke. He convinced me to enjoy my summer with him, and if things work out after, that’s awesome! If they don’t, though, we had time together that we otherwise wouldn’t have had, and I like him enough to be okay with that. Maybe it hurts more when they leave, but at least you don’t have to wonder what if. Plus, you never know.”

  “True, but the scariest thing is – what if it does work out?” I said. “What if Andrew and I end up dating and never break up? That scares the shit out of me. What if we date and stay in contact, and never have a reason to break up?” I said, my fingers tracing circles on my wrist.

  “Then you don’t break up. But if you’re not happy, you do,” Megan said bluntly. “Stop making this difficult.”

  “Yeah, true. Sorry,” I said, mumbling into my water glass. I could feel my emotions starting to drain.

  “Just remember, running away from people, places, life – the thing is, even if you change your street address it doesn’t change who you are,” Emilia said.

  We paid our bill and left the café. I felt pounds lighter than I had in days, just by talking about everything swirling about in my head. With a fresh perspective and new confidence, I felt like I was starting my spring break on the right track.

  I decided to send Andrew a text off the cuff, asking what he was up to tonight. In the message, I invited him to meet up with some friends and said I’d really like to see him. My heart fluttered when he replied that he’d like that, and I gave him a place and time to meet.

  I wanted to see him before I left for Malta. His family was coming in town the next week, and he’d be spending the first week of vacation in Rome with them. After, he would head to Morocco with a friend from college. It was actually a relief Robe
rto was out on business; I could spend some much needed time with my American friends.

  I stopped at my favorite fruit stand as a reward on the way home. I eyed all of the luscious freshness and cartoonish colors, and said hi to the friendly fruit man. I splurged and picked up a pineapple, some beautiful blood oranges, their citrusy scent leaking through the peel, and the sweetest, juiciest plums you could imagine. They were so soft, you could set one on your tongue and the dark purple fruit would pop from the weight of the juice. It was better than candy.

  I passed a few hours running necessary errands, then brought the fruit home and shared a feast with my roommates who had gone straight home from the café. We had a true Italian style dinner; long and lingering. We ate pasta with a delicious pumpkin sauce as a first course, followed by an artichoke and balsamic salad with fresh shaved Parmesan sprinkled on top as a second course. It always seemed backwards to me that the Italians started with pasta and ended with salad, but apparently salad was the digestive, or as Laura would say, dee-gest-eeve.

  In between bites, we sipped a local Italian red wine and enjoyed freshly baked bread, which I’d also picked up at the grocery store. The bread was viewed as a utensil in their culture; we used the bread to scoop up the remnants of our pasta sauce and balsamic dressing.

  We finished with a few scoops of Nocciola Gelato – the light, hazelnut-y gelato with a creamy texture and rich taste that Emilia and I had fallen in love with. When we finished and set the dishes in the sink, we were all content to spend the rest of the afternoon lying around the apartment in the afternoon sun, enjoying the wonderful comatose state of eating far too much good food, and packing when we felt the urge to move.

  The half semester mark also spurred some reflective conversations between the four of us. Even Maggie finally commented on how fast the semester had gone. She still spent most of her time painting, not going out or talking to anyone, but at least she would enjoy meals with the rest of us these days.

  “Where has this semester gone? I feel like I was getting off the plane two days ago,” Megan said.