The Writer

Rachel and her fathers had been in Italy for three years and all spoke broken Italian apart from Leroy who insisted on speaking nothing but that. Something about living in Italy, on Italian land and not speaking the language. Dominic insisted Rachel should try and speak Italian as much as she was able, but she just couldn’t. Something about it felt wrong and it was an acceptance of the fact she would never be going back to America. Between this and feeling isolated because she couldn’t understand her friends, Rachel existed in an eternal state of conflict. That evening at dinner, she stared her fathers in the face and spoke with her chest outwards, almost crying with the loss.

“Quinn isn’t coming to dinner.”

“No?” Hiram asked, plating himself some of the salad prepared by him by their housemaids.

“No, I’m sorry.”

“What did you say to her?”

“I said we were having dinner at eight, which we are.” She fumbled her words as if they were vomit. “And I said that some boys might be here, which they aren’t. She said she was going to sleep through, and then said ‘cool’.”

Hiram stared at her with an eyebrow raised. She wondered if he knew her secret. Would she have to take this to the grave?

“Very American.” He said finally.

He was right.

“I think that’s how she might leave us when all of this is over.” Rachel began working her way into a dislike for Quinn, attempting to throw everyone off the scent. She wondered if she could go that for herself also. “With a sweet American cool.”

“She isn’t quite as acclimatised as yourself.” Hiram began.

“Gli americani sono ignoranti, Rachel” Leroy chuckled. “ignorante e molto scortese”

“We were American once.” Rachel scorned him.

“And, thank god we aren’t anymore.” Her father laughed, opening up a book on the table and scanning the words with his pointer finger and holding his fork in the opposite hand. “I don’t think I could stand another day there.”

“I could.” Rachel sighed.

There was silence at the table as Rachel eyed up all the food on the white cloth. A fish on a platter, some sort of cold rice dish, and a bowl of cut peaches all surrounded by small salad dishes and little bowls of lemon water. All she could think about was Quinn and how she didn’t feel this way the night she met Dominic.

“I heard she’s going to go into town tomorrow to open a bank account. You should offer to show her around, I’m sure she’d appreciate that.”

“No.” Rachel sighed. “I don’t imagine she would.”

“You’re always so pessimistic, Rachel.” Hiram slammed his book shut. “You want to start making friends.”

She said nothing for the rest of dinner except a small offering of gratitude to the maids when she was finished and wanted to be excused. It had gone dark outside and sadness threatened to well her chest and cause her to burst. Her fathers seemed to ignore her at night, so she had little trouble deciding she had enough of conversation and wished to be alone. Alone. Where Rachel was most of the time. It was astonishing how often she felt alone despite all the people around her. Despite all the books she had to read, and all the songs she had to sing she was desperately lonely. That night, she climbed the stairs walked into her room to sit on the edge of the bed as she did each night, only this time, a beautiful blonde woman was laying in the blue sheets, filled with the moonlight and taken in beauty. She was barely breathing and only her face and arm could be seen atop the bed. Her skin almost seemed like porcelain. Rachel could barely take her eyes from the girl.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, thinking she was asleep and could achieve no more than a feigned conversation she would never build the courage to have. “I forgot I don’t get to sleep here anymore.”

“That’s okay.” Quinn sleepily returned to her surprise, not opening her eyes. “Just please don’t watch me sleep next time.”

“I’m so sorry.” She managed to muster a small laugh despite her overwhelming feelings of mortification.

“Stay if you like.” Quinn invited.

“No, I don’t think I can. I’m supposed to take you to town in the morning to the bank.”
“Okay.” The blonde rolled over in bed. “See you tomorrow.”

When she had said tomorrow, Rachel had no idea Quinn would appear at lunch in the same shirt she went to sleep in. The family had been say outside eating raspberries on the grass when the young girl came down in her little green shirt and denim shorts.

“Buongiorno. Buongiorno” She spoke, exiting the side of the home onto the outdoor stone.

“It’s 12pm.” Hiram laughed. “I take it you slept well?”

“Yes, yes. I can’t remember the last time I slept somewhere warm.” Quinn chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind if I skip through lunch to head to town? I’ll catch up on my pages tonight.”

“Partire!” Leroy smiled, reaching for the girl’s hand. “divertiti. hai tempo.”
“Grazie.” Quinn clasped both of his hands in her own before she looked over the girl who lay on the grass, raspberry juice leaking from her lips.

“You’re heading into town?”

“Yes.” Quinn replied, reaching the girl’s body. “Are you still coming?”

“I thought you’d forgotten.”

“Are you mad?”

“No. voglio essere intorno a te.” Rachel whispered to herself, raising to her feet and standing with Quinn in the sun. Her perfume was just as strong as it had been last night but contained the scent of life and the wonder of goodness about it. Rachel wanted to drown in it.

“You can take my dad’s bike, and I’ll take mine.”

Quinn’s favourite thing to do that summer was to watch Rachel ride her bike. She could do nothing but peddle behind, sometimes with a cigarette, sometimes not and watch her creamy thighs fall either side of the blue bar and push herself on. Her hair blew in the summer wind and her shoulders, often exposed, seemed to grow more freckled by the very day. It was enthralling just to be near her and painful to not be able to reveal her feelings. They rode to town that day and stopped off at a store for Quinn to buy cigarettes, and Rachel pondered around a bookstore whilst her counterpart visited the bank. They had gone to lunch afterwards where Quinn had a coffee and another cigarette and Rachel had some sort of sandwich or other. Most of their trip was silent until Quinn vegan to miss the voice that had rang all night in her ears.

“What do you do here all summer? Are you not bored?”

“I read all day and drink at night, just like everyone else.” Rachel replied, head in her book.

“What are you reading?”

“Ted Berrigan.”

“You like his poetry?”

“I like this one.” She lay the book on the table.

“Words for Love.” Quinn smiled over her cigarette. “He was wonderful, wasn’t he? I’ve always taken a liking to poems.”

“I like some.” Rachel placed the book in her bag. “I think it’s the one thing I prefer in Italy than I do in America.”

They began their terms of silence again. Without the book, Rachel could only pine and look at Quinn with a shot of desperation that seemed to say, ‘It’s killing me that we’re not talking.’ “I’m going to go home; I think your father might kill me if I don’t start writing.” The blonde spoke eventually, getting to her feet. “Do you want a cigarette before I go?”

“I haven’t smoked before.”

“Here you go.” The blonde leant into the girl and put a cigarette between her lips, lighting it and taking the first drag herself. Rachel could only sit and be victim as Quinn lifted the thing into her mouth and touched her along the jaw.

“Be careful, now. It’s a slippery slope.”

She almost let her escape, standing to her feet just as the blonde mounted her bike.
“I’m going to a little party tonight. Would you like to come?”

“See you at home, Rachel.” She sighed.

“Okay. See you tonight.”

“Cool. See you then."

Rachel thought herself stupid all day and then the evening, surrounded by boys playing football and learning how to drink alcohol in her deepest time of need. It was desperately awful and she was looking to escape anyway she knew how. Quinn attended that night, not greeting Rachel and immediately being swept away by some boy a year younger than she was who Dominic knew but could not be seen with often. It was a perfect night. The gathering confined itself to just a square in the middle of nowhere, bathed in pink and green lights and gathered with teenagers drinking and smoking, falling in love without knowing how. It was dark and every breath grew colder and shorter and the night approached its ends and Quinn remained dancing with her boy. Rachel sat at the back of the square surrounded by girls who clouded themselves in smoke and only attended out of boredom. The only thing Rachel had in common with this ladies is that none of them could take their eyes of Quinn as she danced.

“Io voglio essere lei” One spoke quietly.

“Lei è Bellissima”Another one replied.

Dominic watched intently, knowing Rachel could see him.

“cosa ne pensi, Rachel?” He leaned towards her, stinking of cheap cologne and smoke. “È la ragazza più bella che tu abbia mai visto?”

“lei è fastidiosa” Rachel replied with intent, guzzling down her drink. She was watching the blonde as she leaned over the man’s shoulder and they caught sight of each other from just across the way. Her eyes were full of eroticism and lust and Rachel could not bear to be there any longer.

“La voglio molto male”

She wanted her then and went to bed and wanted her there just the same. How horrible it was to be in love, but how deeply intensified this way by feeling that Quinn hated her and would not, even with six weeks at hand, feel the same. She went to sleep, and in her dreams, wanted Quinn all the same.