Happy Christmas, ![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gabrielladusult
Dec. 17th, 2008 09:08 amgirlyswotDear Gabby,
Since you declared yourself open to almost anything, "even original," your Secret Santa took those words to heart. Thus, there will be no foolish wand waving in this story. Still, Santa hopes that you find magic in it (among all those thousands and thousands of words... alas, Santa is verbose). Pace yourself; there will be a quiz at the end. And now, without further ado, here's the story of Gabriel and Ella.
December 24
She had done it.
And now Mama, and Papa, and Nona, and Gabriel, and even Perfect!Amy would have to admit that she had the chops for Great Adventure. No minders needed. At 23 and a Yale graduate, Ella was a woman of the world.
Or she would be, as soon as she arrived in Italy. A shiver ran through her. Not nerves, definitely not. Must be... anticipation. Yes, anticipation was good.
Everyone had thought she was crazy. And in Ella's family, what one thought, one expressed aloud. Top of the lungs aloud.
"What do you mean you'll be in Rome for Christmas? Christmas is a time for family, Ella DiMarco!"
"It is a beautiful city, cara." That was Nona, who had traveled from a little village near Parma all the way to New York fifty years ago. She had only seen Rome that one time, before leaving her homeland for good. "But it is sad when you are there all alone."
Time for the bombshell, then. "I won't be alone, Nona. I will be with a man."
She winced and shook her head, trying to dislodge those particular memories. Papa had ranted, and Mama had recounted the birth of an ungrateful daughter (30 hours of labor). Amy had smiled sympathetically, which she'd hated even more. Then Gabe had intervened, and everyone had magically calmed down. What a wonder!
He had checked on this man she'd met over the Internet - And how crazy was that? Aunt Betty had exclaimed, throwing her arms up like an Italian Macbeth; Aunt Betty was a Drama Queen, as Nona said. His IP address was really from Rome (here, Gabe spewed things like 'packet trace,' 'router,' and 'ISPs' that instantly lowered everyone's tension - to a state of stupor). Then there was the café where the man had breakfast - good neighborhood, according to Google Street View. Gabriel had even found rental ads for the area: not cheap.
And didn't darling Gabe just love showing off? As usual, her parents were putty in his hands. Gabriel Harris was the golden boy they'd never had. As far as Ella could remember, he had always been entrusted with her safety. Old resentments flared up: just because she'd been a slightly clumsy, somewhat absent-minded child, didn't mean they should trust him more than their own daughter! But as usual, affection smote down anger. Gabe had been her protector whenever other kids had picked on her. How often had he taken a pummeling for her sake? Although only two years older, he had stood firmly between Ella and the world. Guardian and guide. Her eyes overflowed with emotion, just as the pointy head ruined it all by announcing, "Besides, I'll handle all the arrangements for her. I'll make sure she has everything she needs in case of an emergency."
Oh, no, you won't! She was never so organized as in the days that followed. The highlight of the week was when Carla from 'Travel and Revel' found her a plane ticket for $25 less than the one Gabe had reserved online. True, she had to fly out on the twenty-fourth, but that was OK. Her meeting with the mystery man was on Christmas Day at noon: plenty of time. So there, pointy-head!
At least, in all the commotion, the family had forgotten to ask the man's name. She could hardly tell them she was meeting ragazzo1225.
~~
"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seat belts. We are ready for departure."
Ella sunk into the seat and wiped her sweaty face. Boarding the plane had taken longer than expected, but luckily, she'd planned well ahead (a regular Girl Scout, her!).
At 6am on the dot, she had left her parents' house, avoiding the morning rush to make it to JFK in less than an hour. By 7:30, she was already checked in and wondering what to do for the next three hours. Without even realizing, Ella had started painting scenes in her mind: two boys staring wide-eyed at a gleaming Boeing 777; lovers saying goodbye by the metal detector. That's how she'd always drawn: in her mind's eye, long before she put pencil to paper. Nona said that she saw the reality beyond reality. Mama said that she was scatter-brained.
By 8am, she had located the airport manager's office.
"Excuse me, sir. I lost my ticket in an escalator shaft at Terminal 1, and I was wondering if you could help me recuperate it."
"I'm sorry - what?!"
"I need to recuperate my ticket from an escalator shaft. Could you please have someone stop the escalator and look underneath... or something?"
They had to have a standard procedure for such situations, didn't they? Surely this wasn't the first time someone had dropped their ticket folder in that evil space between the moving stairs and the rail? And the folder had landed just so, so that by the time that someone picked it up again, its contents had slid out of reach?
Apparently, it was the first time.
By 8:30, she was talking to the Alitalia Customer Service representative.
"You're saying this wasn't an electronic ticket? I am sorry, Miss, but in that case I cannot re-issue it, unless you have a receipt."
She had a receipt. By some miracle, it had stuck inside the ticket folder. "Oh, alright, then," the rep grumbled ungraciously. "I'll have to write the whole thing again by hand. There will be a $100 service fee, and it's going to take about an hour. I don't suppose you're scheduled to leave before then?" she asked hopefully.
Ella wasn't. By 10:20, armed with a new ticket and the recommendation to 'buy online from now on,' she had made it past the security check, and was hurrying down the corridor to gate nr. 29. By 11 am, she was hurrying down that same corridor, armed with a new recommendation: 'Always double-check that you picked up all your belongings from the security belt, Miss.'
She boarded the plane with seconds to spare.
~~
Ten rows behind, Gabriel went limp with relief: she had made it! He had been out of his mind with worry, and just about ready to disembark. There was no point in going to Rome without Ella. Perhaps he should get back, patch things up with Amy, and forget the whole thing. What was he thinking, anyway, following the bane of his existence halfway around the world? Except he wasn't even following her, because she was nowhere in sight. Then she stumbled down the aisle, smiling awkwardly, and Gabe remembered all his reasons. She was Ella!
~~
So that's how taking off on the Great Adventure felt like: hollow, with a stomach lurch. Funny that she had imagined elation. Mechanically, Ella reached for the notebook in her backpack. Her hand moved with practiced ease across the page, sketching the faces in her mind: Mama, and Papa, and Nona of the wise, knowing eyes. Hesitantly, she started filling in the contours of Gabe's face. It wasn't right. She erased them quickly and started again.
It never came right anymore. Ever since he had returned home this summer, he was different. It wasn't just the two years he had spent abroad, designing computer networks for his company. She could capture that increased awareness of the world easily enough. It was the different light in his eyes. The soft, far-away look he sometimes got. It was the woman he had brought with him and introduced to everyone as his fiancée: Perfect!Amy.
Ella closed her eyes on the pain. This summer was supposed to have been theirs, the way no summer had been since he'd left for college. And this time, she wasn't going to be a burden. This time, with a degree and a job offer under her belt, they would talk as equals. He would admire her work - maybe even be a little awed by her future fame.
"See, Gabriel, where my stupid doodles got me? I'm going to illustrate books for Scholastic!"
"Good for you, kid," he replied absently, turning back to his fiancée.
She had lost him - for the second time in her life. It was as sudden, as bewildering as the first time. Back then, it had been Alex who had stolen Gabe from her.
~~
She was ten when Alex entered their lives. Christmas Day. She remembered that clearly: the hum of happy voices in St. Mary's hall after Mass, the aroma of the panettones waiting on the tables for Father's blessing.
And the Lombardi brothers pushing her into a corner, trying to steal her cookies. In the crash of people, no one saw them. Gabriel was eyeing the candy on the Christmas tree. Clutching the crumbling cookies, she dashed around Daniel and Damian and ran for the shed in the back yard. That was her secret haven. At ten, its jumble of broken chairs, moth-eaten pew cushions, and cracked pieces of stained glass imbued it with the mysterious allure of Treasure Land. The shed was Atlantis, Persia and Sparta, all rolled in one.
Atlantis was currently occupied by a stranger.
She skidded to a halt, breathing heavily and squinting into the shadows. The shape that had sprung to its feet was huge - taller than the Lombardis, and faster. She took a step back.
"Who are you?"
He eyed her cagily, checking over her shoulder.
"Mommy and Daddy are right behind me," she said quickly. "And Gabriel, and Nona, and Gabriel's parents, and... " Her babble trailed off when he stepped into the light. He was not so big after all. Tall, yes, but very thin. "Who are you, boy?"
He didn't answer. His hand shot forward and snatched the cookies she had forgotten she was clutching. Before she could blink, he wolfed them down, still eyeing her warily.
"Are you hungry?" she tried again. "You could come inside the hall. The food blessing will be over soon, and then we'll all have lunch."
"Scram!"
Ella bit her lip. "Or you could have more cookies..."
"Git! And don't tell no one you saw me, or I'll break your neck. You hear me, little girl?"
"My name is Ella," she whispered over her shoulder.
Half an hour later, her pockets stuffed with cookies, she tiptoed back in. The boy wasn't there. With a sigh of relief, she dumped her load onto the nearest chair and ran.
She didn't see 'The Boy' for a long time afterwards. And she didn't tell anyone about him, not even Gabriel. Perhaps she had understood, even then, that it was best to keep them apart.
The sandwiches she left in the shed each Sunday after the service were gone by the next week.
~~
"Miss? Excuse me, Miss, are you OK?"
"Sorry, what?" Ella came back to the present with a jump.
The flight attendant held her professional smile firmly in place. "I asked whether you would like something to drink. We'll be serving lunch in a few minutes."
"Oh." Ella checked her watch, then the drinks cart. Coffee? Maybe later. "Um, may I have a cup of tea, please?"
"Sure." Efficiently, the flight attendant arranged the steaming cup and sugar packets on the serving tray. Ella reached over to grab them. The plane gave a mighty lurch.
"OW! Ouch, ow, dammit!"
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! It was an accident, I'm so sorry!" Frantically, Ella grabbed a napkin and attempted to help her scalded neighbor.
She faltered.
The tea had splattered where no napkin should go. All she could do was watch helplessly as the man bulleted out of his seat, hollering and holding his pants away from his crotch.
By the time he reappeared from the restroom, he was calmer. "Thank God the tea didn't stain my Armani suit. You wouldn't have liked it if I made you pay for it."
Ella swallowed hard. In her experience, people reacted to occasional mishaps in one of two ways: they became aggressive, or they became passive-aggressive. No question which category her neighbor fit in. Clearly, it was time for The Strategy. First: apologize profusely and introduce yourself. Hmm, only a grumpy growl in response. Alright, then, b: small talk. Oh dear, now he was glaring at her! Eyes fixed on his bulging neck, Ella blurted out,
"I love your tie!" (your garish, reindeer-dotted tie)
"Do you? It's designer silk." Instantly in a good mood, he told her how much it cost ('Wow!' Ella exclaimed incredulously), showed off his custom-made shoes, then segued seamlessly into his life story. He owned a successful construction business in Vegas ('Have to know the right people!'). There was an Italian woman waiting for him in Rome - a brand new girlfriend of exquisite beauty and impeccable taste ('Here! What do you think of this little diamond choker I got her?'). As he waxed poetic, she pictured a popinjay and a fox taking the passegiatta in Piazza d'Espagna. It was such an entertaining image, that she was grinning widely by the time the flight attendant arrived to collect their lunch trays. And grinning, lost her grip on hers.
"NOOOOOO! No no no no no," the man moaned, staring numbly at his suit in all its saucy glory. "Are you doing this to me on purpose, lady? Did my wife hire you? Tell me, is she trying to ruin my Christmas with Emanuelle?"
"Sir, I'll have to ask you to calm down."
"Calm down?" He rounded on the flight attendant. "Do you know how much this suit cost? Who's gonna pay for it? This... this... fucking bumbler? I want her out of here! You hear me? OUT OF HERE!"
~~
The plane was descending. Gabe came out of his nap disoriented, squinting at his watch. They couldn't be there already, could they? Too early! Too... noisy! What was that noise up ahead? At that moment, the captain's voice came on the speaker.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have to make an unscheduled stop at Boston's Logan airport. There's no need for alarm. Unfortunately, we have an unruly passenger aboard, and airline procedures require that we land and hand him over into police custody. We are currently into a holding pattern above Boston. I'll keep you updated as we go."
The updates came steadily throughout the next two hours. The man did not go quietly. It wasn't until the FBI, who had been tracking him for a month, came on board, that he stopped mentioning his Armani suit. The FBI Agents thanked Ella warmly, explained how she could collect her reward, and then the plane was finally ready to take off -
- just as soon as a slight incident could be resolved. Apparently, a flight attendant had been hit in the head by a badly stowed piece of luggage.
Ella squinted at the open overhead compartment and sighed in relief: it wasn't her carry-on! It was the black laptop case next to it. She'd shifted it to make space for her bag, and knew that it was heavy. Poor flight attendant!
Another hour later and one stewardess short, they were airborne again, and headed for Rome. Tempers on board were running hot. Ella slid back into her memories.
~~
Inevitably, Gabe met the mystery boy - not under the best of circumstances.
Angelo Pirelli was twisting Gabriel's arm up around his back at the time. His left eye was swollen shut, and Ella lay sprawled on the ground. Angelo Pirelli was the Lombardis' cousin. He was bigger, older, and twice as mean. Which was why Ella thought that her head had gone funny from Daniel's hair pulling, when she saw Angelo take flight. A few moments later, Daniel's head snapped back, and she felt her legs being released from Damian's grip. Two rough hands pulled her up, turned her over like a doll, then set her against the school's fence.
"You're OK. Your knight in shining armor has a broken arm, though," The Boy said.
She didn't know why he sounded angry, as if he'd been the one getting pummeled. She didn't get a chance to ask. The boy turned and walked away.
There was no keeping the secret from Gabe after that. And then, there was no keeping him from trying to meet the boy. 'We have to thank him, Ella! Did you see how he threw Angelo over his head?' and 'We should find out who he is. My God, the way he slammed Daniel - wham!' and from then on, they spent every available hour in the shed. Gabe declared that they would do their lessons there. Her mutiny was overruled. Worse yet, two weeks later the summer holidays rolled around. Suddenly, they were free as larks, and Mama thought that playing outside until dark was good for them, 'get your heads out of the books for a bit.' Before dark on the third day, the door of the shed slammed open.
"You two, get lost!"
Ignoring the order, Gabe thrust out his hand. "I would like to thank you for helping us the other day."
"I said, get lost!"
But they hadn't gotten lost. To Ella's amazement, Gabe had patiently managed to talk the boy into giving him his heart's desire.
"Oh, alright, I'll teach you how to fight, then," the boy agreed glumly. "But you have to ditch her."
"He won't ditch me," Ella fumed. "I'm his bestest friend."
...Just as Gabe agreed, "Of course I'll come alone. My name is Gabriel, by the way. You can call me Gabe."
"I'm Alex."
And that's how she had lost Gabriel the first time around. Oh, he still continued to watch over her, of course; from then on, so did Alex. But she was no longer Gabe's bestest friend.
~~
Ten rows behind, Ella's former bestest friend was remembering that exact same day. Alex. Who would have thought that the scrappy runaway and the bespectacled geek would become inseparable? And yet... Here they were, having spent the past six years refusing to see each other. Had he been right to blame Alex about Ella? He didn't know anymore. All he knew was that soon he and Ella would be landing in Rome. She would find out who ragazzo1225 was.
And the chips would fall where they may.
The amazing thing about Gabe's trail of thought, by this point in our story, is this: After a lifetime of knowing Ella, he can still underestimate her capacity to wreak havoc. Unbeknownst to him, she has already struck the deadly blow to his plans - as he is about to find out.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain again," the dispirited voice came back on the speaker. "I'm afraid I have more bad news. We have just been notified that due to the weather conditions, Fiumicino Airport will close in half an hour. Because of our delay in Boston, we won't be able to make it. We have been directed to land in Milan instead..."
The din of protests drowned out the remainder of the speech. Gabe noticed fearfully that more than one angry gaze had narrowed hotly on Ella. In a less civilized age, they would have chanted, 'Witch! Witch!' by now. Luckily, it was the 21st century.
Luckier yet, they landed soon after, and everyone scrambled to make new arrangements and harangue the badly overworked airline officials. With the trains to Rome suspended, as well, there followed a mad dash for hotel rooms. Gabriel managed to get a cramped one in a two-star motel.
By that time, Ella was already asleep in a Marriott room, smiling to her dreams.
~~
Ella's first two years of high school were the best of her life. Alex had his own apartment, and began inviting her along. Neither she, nor Gabe knew what he did for money - 'a night job,' he said vaguely - and she was afraid he was fencing stolen goods.
"Ask him, Gabe," she kept pleading. "I don't want you to get in trouble because of him."
"I trust him," Gabe replied stubbornly. "He would never put me in danger. Nor you!"
Their afternoons were spent in quiet companionship. Gabe studied. Alex read. Ella sketched in her ubiquitous notebook.
"What are you drawing there?" Alex asked one day.
Gabe snorted. He thought Ella's drawings were a stupid waste of time.
"Just doodles," she replied defensively. But Alex didn't snort. He stared over her shoulder for a long while. Then he picked up the notebook, flipped back the pages, and started from the beginning.
Inca women caring baskets on their heads, climbing their way to an intricate Machu Picchu.
The sunrise through the columns of the temple of Vesta, crowning an indomitable Cesar.
Priestesses making human sacrifices in the shadow of the Palace at Knossos.
"Are these real scenes, like, from history?" Alex finally asked.
"Yes!"
Gabe rolled his eyes. "No one knows how those people lived. And the real places are in ruins. But Ella doesn't like facts. She'd rather make things up."
"This notebook is real, isn't it? So when I draw them, they become real, too." Ella blinked to clear her eyes. "Reality is grander than you imagine, Gabriel Harris!" How it hurt that he refused to understand that!
"If I describe something to you, could you draw it?" Alex's eyes were bright with excitement. "I mean, sci-fi stuff, not history."
"Of course," she said cheekily. "I can make anything real."
So he described his favorite book, 'Ender's Game,' and Ender Wiggin flew his deadly squad on the page across from where Nubians were building the Great Pyramid. Then Captain Nemo's submarine surfaced between a drawing of the Eiffel Tower and a gentle image of a Hawaiian beach.
Ella hurt a lot less.
Unfortunately, reality also existed beyond the pages of her notebook. Gabriel graduated and went to college. Ella got her driver's license. And shortly after that, she got lost while driving. As the hour grew late, she zigzagged around a strip mall, eventually circling to the service entrance of Walmart. Grimy workers were downloading trucks - sweaty, coarse men, swearing a blue streak. Ella pulled up beneath a street light just as one of them looked her way. She stared incredulously into Alex's eyes.
The following afternoon, he bundled her school things unceremoniously and ordered her out of his apartment.
"But why? I don't understand, Alex. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
"Get out!"
"You can't really mean that. I'm your friend!"
"You're nothing but a girl. The most annoying, blundering klutz I've ever met! Now get the hell out of here!"
And so the best two years of her life came to an end.
~~
She saw Alex only once more, during her first year at Yale. That day, her two roommates got struck by one of their regular Pizza Craves. Ella had to go along. Though she would never admit it, she was easily flustered by Mary and Annette. They both came from old money, and sailed through life with the flamboyant self-assurance of the never-ugly-ducklings. People jumped to do their bidding. Men ate out of their palms. Nevertheless, Ella liked them. For the first time ever, she had girlfriends.
"Good evening, ladies. My name is Alex and I'll be your waiter to-"
"Alex! What are you doing here?" She jumped up and hugged him, forgetting their last parting.
"Ella, you know the waiter?" Mary's emphasis made the last words synonymous with 'the help.'
"I used to deliver pizza to her house," Alex lied smoothly. "She tips well. Are you ladies ready to order?"
"We need a few more minutes. Can we have a round of Cokes in the meantime: one diet, two regular, with lemon slices all around," Annette said without looking up from the menu.
Alex bowed stiffly. "At your service."
"WAIT!" Ella burst out. People were staring their way, but her eyes never wavered from him. "Don't you treat me like we're strangers!"
"Fool!" he muttered sharply. "Your Ivy League friends didn't have to know you used to be chummy with the waiter!"
What? She looked from him to her roommates, who were clearly intrigued by the drama. Her chin went up. "Mary, Annette, this is my friend, Alex. We've grown up together in Brooklyn. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to help him bring those Cokes to the table."
In the pregnant pause that followed, Mary and Annette looked at each other, eyebrows up into their hairlines. Then Mary shrugged.
"Why don't I bring the Cokes? You two sit down and catch up."
"I have a better idea, Mary," Annette said. "I think we should both waitress tonight. The way this place looks, I doubt that Alex would have time to chat otherwise."
Ella choked on a strangled laugh. But the girls meant it: they pushed their sleeves up and marched right into the kitchen.
It turned out to be a great night. Mary and Annette made it their mission to head off Alex, and reach his customers first. 'Talk to Ella!' they ordered every time he protested. He did, back in the kitchen, in between filling glasses. For the first time, he told her about his plans of owning a restaurant one day; his apprenticeship with the pizza chef; and moonlighting as a pastry assistant on his days off. She talked about college - and making friends. Her roommates amassed a fortune in tips, and declared the evening a rip-roaring success.
They still ended the night in the red, though: Ella tipped over a huge stack of plates.
~~
December 25
Christmas Day dawned bright and clear, trying to atone for the eve's snowstorm. At the window, Ella watched listlessly as the plow shaved off another strip of white, pushing a growing mound of slush to the sides. The coffee maker gurgled merrily behind her.
Nearly four hundred miles between her and ragazzo1225, and no way to get there on time! With a sigh, Ella let the drape fall. She imagined a dashing stranger with a notebook in hand - their agreed-upon sign. He was pacing around Piazza della Rotonda, waiting for her, checking his watch... walking away again, never to share his wonder of Rome with her: I envy you your talent for drawing. I used to feel that my soul was muzzled, until I learned that there were those who could do what I couldn't: bring my world to life. For two years, I've been roaming churches and museums, learning of light and shadow, man's world and God's. Your artist's eye will no doubt perceive much more in these paintings. I can hardly wait to take you roaming with me.
And so he would! If she had to hitchhike all the way to Rome, she was going to make it. Feverishly, Ella threw her toothbrush back into the suitcase, slammed the lid shut, and hurled out the door.
As it turned out, it took a combination of buses, local trains, and old-fashioned hitchhiking to make her way south. In Siena, she took a break, not to admire its fantastic black and white duomo, but to email ragazzo1225: no matter how hard she was trying, she was going to be late. Once or twice, she also managed to get quite lost, catching a glimpse of Assisi's serene monastery in the process. But, as they said, all roads did eventually lead to Rome. The Pantheon was stained red by the winter sunset when Ella finally trudged into Piazza della Rotonda.
Only a handful of people remained: a few brave tourists snapping pictures, a few locals warming their insides with a glass of wine. She was startled when a man stepped out of a nearby taverna, put his collar up and hurried away hunching against the wind. For a moment she'd thought... Get a grip, Ella, you know he can't be here! She'd better get some warm food inside her, before the cold and hunger made her see things. Then she would look for an Internet cafe, and see about contacting ragazzo1225 again.
With that eminently reasonable plan, Ella stepped inside the taverna. Her foot froze in mid-step as a very familiar man stood up from his table and held a chair out to her. Not another hallucination! Rubbing her eyes, she looked again. Still there.
"Hello, Ella. Merry Christmas!"
"You! What - how - what are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you. Have a seat?" he gestured. "You must be ravenous. Here, let me pour you a glass of Chianti while you look over the menu. Or would you rather have some coffee?"
She eyed him curiously. Why was he babbling like an idiot? And when had he started wearing formal suits? Then she forgot all else as her gaze lowered to the table.
"Where did you find this?" Ella snatched her old, beloved notebook and started shuffling through its well worn pages. Inca women climbing towards Machu Picchu. Ender's deadly game. Captain Nemo's submarine. "I've been looking for this for ages! I thought I lost it."
"You didn't lose it. I stole it."
"You WHAT? But why?! And why are you telling me now? I don't..." Her head snapped back: Piazza della Rotonda. Notebook. "You!" Just that whisper, and she was off her chair, rushing blindly towards the door.
"Ella! Hey, wait." He caught up with her outside and hauled her into his arms, oblivious to the stares of the passersby. "Is it so terrible that I'm your secret admirer, then?"
"Secret admirer!" she scoffed. "You must have gotten a really good kick out of my emails. Well, never mind, I'm glad I was entertaining. And I hope you choke on your stupid joke!"
"That makes no sense whatsoever, you silly girl!"
He dared laugh, on top of everything? Blind with rage, Ella twisted and kicked, but there was no struggling out of his grip. Stupid big man with stupid big muscles - he probably still worked out every day!
"Stop wriggling for a sec, will you?" he snapped. "I'm trying to give you your Christmas present. God! You'll end up tripping and injuring yourself. Here! You've probably broken them into crumbles by now, with all that squirming."
He'd managed to extract a small package from his coat pocket, and pushed it into her hands. Ella stared nonplussed.
"Cookies? You brought me cookies?"
"Yeah, well, it seemed fitting. You know, Christmas Day, across the yard from a Church... or in this case, across the piazza." He nodded at the dark shape of the Pantheon and ruffled her hair. "It was supposed to be noon, only someone couldn't get here on time."
"You still remember that first Christmas Day?!"
His expression grew solemn. "I'm not likely to ever forget the day that changed my life. Ella!" He gripped her hands, struggling to get the next words out - he couldn't. Even in the dim light, his face was very red. Abruptly, he let go of her. "Look, I want a Christmas gift from you, too!"
"Oh. Oh, Alex." How mortifying! "I did buy something for you... for ragazzo... well, for you! But I thought he was Italian, so I bought, you know... New York memorabilia and stuff."
"Oh, yeah? What did you get me?" His face split into a wicked grin. "A snow globe with the Empire State Building? A mini Lady Liberty?"
"A photo album!" she protested indignantly.
"Ah, yes, the sweet sights of home! Well, it doesn't matter, because the Christmas gift I want isn't the kind you can buy in a store. That notebook I stole from you - it has a blank page left. And I'd like you to draw a picture on it."
"Oh." What a relief! "Sure."
"Not so fast! You must listen first. I don't want a make-believe scene. I want a real scene - really real to the very last detail. Shall I describe it to you?" Upon her cautious nod, he closed his eyes. His voice took on a hushed, dreamy tone she'd never heard before. "Picture this: There's a coffee shop on Via di Sant'Eustachio, with a green little pergola over the entrance. It's not a big place, but it is cheerful, and always crowded. At a table in the back, a young man and woman are sipping lattes and eating cookies - just like the cookies you're holding now. The woman is sketching furiously on a large pad. She's a book illustrator, and I wouldn't be surprised if she is coming up late on her deadline."
"Of course she is, because the man keeps getting cookie crumbles on her pad! No self-respecting illustrator would eat while she works."
"Nag, nag. Meanwhile, the man pretends to be reading a loan contract. He's decided to expand his cafe."
"It's his cafe?"
"Yep. Well, his and the bank's, for now."
"I see. But what is he really up to? You said he pretends that he's reading. What's he doing in reality?"
"Oh. The same thing he's always been doing: he watches her draw." Alex paused.
"So there you have it, that's the scene."
"A homey scene," Ella whispered.
"A homey scene." He watched her intently. "Can you draw it?"
No. This was too much to ask. When she'd boarded that plane for Italy, she'd been thinking about a few days, maybe a few weeks if things went well. She'd certainly not been planning for a crossroads. Even though her mystery man was no stranger - even though he was her familiar blunt Alex - yet also, the sensitive, insightful ragazzo1225... Still, she couldn't... "Of course," she heard herself declare cheekily. "I can make anything real."
~~
Epilogue: December 31
"I hope to God I didn't make a mistake. Do you think I made a mistake leaving her with Alex?"
"For the thousandth time, Gabriel: no, you did not make a mistake." Amy felt the horrible headache coming back. "As I keep telling you, it's not your mistake to make. Ella is a big girl. She'll make her own choice."
"He'd better not ditch her again, that's all I'm saying. Did I tell you he ditched her, as soon as I left for college?"
"Only a dozen times so far. And I don't think he ditched her. I prefer to think that he was wise enough to let her spread her wings. I swear, if my cousin smothered me like you did Ella, I'd... I'd... ARGH!"
"Ella's special," Gabe said defensively. "You have no idea how much trouble she can get into. I think I aged five years when I lost track of her in Milan. And then I got to Rome, and Alex showed me the email she'd just sent him: she was hitchhiking across Italy!"
"Yet in the end, she got there perfectly fine on her own, didn't she?"
"Well..."
"So I hope you learned your lesson, and will stop overreacting from now on." Amy watched him suspiciously, a slight edge to her voice. "You're not still thinking of traipsing after Ella each time she goes on a trip!"
"No, no," Gabe said quickly. "Don't worry. That's Alex's job from now on."
"Oh, you are impossible!" Giving up, Amy went into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. It was useless. He wasn't going to stop obsessing until Ella got in touch. She could only hope that that was going to happen sooner rather than later. Not that she didn't understand how a woman in the whirl of new love might temporarily forget about the rest of the world. Still, when one had a worrywart for a cousin, one better be more considerate of others. And one better not ruin others' New Year's party!
"Amy, come, come quickly!" Gabriel's shrill summons propelled her into motion, face splotched with mascara.
"What's wrong, what happened?"
"Look!" Pointing at the TV screen, he turned up the volume. "Listen!"
... Arson investigators are now saying that the fire started from a coffee maker left unattended in one of the guest rooms, although the collapse of the building makes it impossible to determine precisely which one. As we previously reported, the Marriott hotel near Milan airport burned down on Christmas morning. Fortunately, all the hotel guests - including many Americans - were evacuated in time.
"So?"
"What do you mean 'so'? Ella stayed at the Marriott!"
Amy rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Gabriel, you're taking this too far! That fire could have been anyone's fault."
... And - it seems that the streak of bad luck continues in Italy. In another freak accident, Coldplay's New Year concert was brought to a screeching halt when the lights at Rome's Stadio Olimpico unexpectedly went out. The subsequent stampede resulted in hundreds of injuries, though no casualties were reported. Ros? Back to you.
Thanks, Charlie. Let's wish the Italians a Lucky New Year! And in local news..."
"You'd better get dressed, Gabe. We're going to be late for the party."
"Fine, fine, just a second, hon." Gabriel turned off the TV and logged into his laptop one last time. And there it finally was - the long awaited message!
Dear Gabe and Amy,
Happy New Year! Sorry for writing so late - hope you see this before you leave for the party. We've been a bit busy around here. I'm in the hospital with a broken leg. Don't worry, though, Ella's fine. She is a little shaken, but I'm sure she'll bounce back in a few days.
We went to see the Coldplay concert last evening, and Ella accidentally..."
Secret Santa's Quiz: Which one of Ella's mishaps happened exactly the same way to Secret Santa?
Since you declared yourself open to almost anything, "even original," your Secret Santa took those words to heart. Thus, there will be no foolish wand waving in this story. Still, Santa hopes that you find magic in it (among all those thousands and thousands of words... alas, Santa is verbose). Pace yourself; there will be a quiz at the end. And now, without further ado, here's the story of Gabriel and Ella.
December 24
She had done it.
And now Mama, and Papa, and Nona, and Gabriel, and even Perfect!Amy would have to admit that she had the chops for Great Adventure. No minders needed. At 23 and a Yale graduate, Ella was a woman of the world.
Or she would be, as soon as she arrived in Italy. A shiver ran through her. Not nerves, definitely not. Must be... anticipation. Yes, anticipation was good.
Everyone had thought she was crazy. And in Ella's family, what one thought, one expressed aloud. Top of the lungs aloud.
"What do you mean you'll be in Rome for Christmas? Christmas is a time for family, Ella DiMarco!"
"It is a beautiful city, cara." That was Nona, who had traveled from a little village near Parma all the way to New York fifty years ago. She had only seen Rome that one time, before leaving her homeland for good. "But it is sad when you are there all alone."
Time for the bombshell, then. "I won't be alone, Nona. I will be with a man."
She winced and shook her head, trying to dislodge those particular memories. Papa had ranted, and Mama had recounted the birth of an ungrateful daughter (30 hours of labor). Amy had smiled sympathetically, which she'd hated even more. Then Gabe had intervened, and everyone had magically calmed down. What a wonder!
He had checked on this man she'd met over the Internet - And how crazy was that? Aunt Betty had exclaimed, throwing her arms up like an Italian Macbeth; Aunt Betty was a Drama Queen, as Nona said. His IP address was really from Rome (here, Gabe spewed things like 'packet trace,' 'router,' and 'ISPs' that instantly lowered everyone's tension - to a state of stupor). Then there was the café where the man had breakfast - good neighborhood, according to Google Street View. Gabriel had even found rental ads for the area: not cheap.
And didn't darling Gabe just love showing off? As usual, her parents were putty in his hands. Gabriel Harris was the golden boy they'd never had. As far as Ella could remember, he had always been entrusted with her safety. Old resentments flared up: just because she'd been a slightly clumsy, somewhat absent-minded child, didn't mean they should trust him more than their own daughter! But as usual, affection smote down anger. Gabe had been her protector whenever other kids had picked on her. How often had he taken a pummeling for her sake? Although only two years older, he had stood firmly between Ella and the world. Guardian and guide. Her eyes overflowed with emotion, just as the pointy head ruined it all by announcing, "Besides, I'll handle all the arrangements for her. I'll make sure she has everything she needs in case of an emergency."
Oh, no, you won't! She was never so organized as in the days that followed. The highlight of the week was when Carla from 'Travel and Revel' found her a plane ticket for $25 less than the one Gabe had reserved online. True, she had to fly out on the twenty-fourth, but that was OK. Her meeting with the mystery man was on Christmas Day at noon: plenty of time. So there, pointy-head!
At least, in all the commotion, the family had forgotten to ask the man's name. She could hardly tell them she was meeting ragazzo1225.
~~
"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seat belts. We are ready for departure."
Ella sunk into the seat and wiped her sweaty face. Boarding the plane had taken longer than expected, but luckily, she'd planned well ahead (a regular Girl Scout, her!).
At 6am on the dot, she had left her parents' house, avoiding the morning rush to make it to JFK in less than an hour. By 7:30, she was already checked in and wondering what to do for the next three hours. Without even realizing, Ella had started painting scenes in her mind: two boys staring wide-eyed at a gleaming Boeing 777; lovers saying goodbye by the metal detector. That's how she'd always drawn: in her mind's eye, long before she put pencil to paper. Nona said that she saw the reality beyond reality. Mama said that she was scatter-brained.
By 8am, she had located the airport manager's office.
"Excuse me, sir. I lost my ticket in an escalator shaft at Terminal 1, and I was wondering if you could help me recuperate it."
"I'm sorry - what?!"
"I need to recuperate my ticket from an escalator shaft. Could you please have someone stop the escalator and look underneath... or something?"
They had to have a standard procedure for such situations, didn't they? Surely this wasn't the first time someone had dropped their ticket folder in that evil space between the moving stairs and the rail? And the folder had landed just so, so that by the time that someone picked it up again, its contents had slid out of reach?
Apparently, it was the first time.
By 8:30, she was talking to the Alitalia Customer Service representative.
"You're saying this wasn't an electronic ticket? I am sorry, Miss, but in that case I cannot re-issue it, unless you have a receipt."
She had a receipt. By some miracle, it had stuck inside the ticket folder. "Oh, alright, then," the rep grumbled ungraciously. "I'll have to write the whole thing again by hand. There will be a $100 service fee, and it's going to take about an hour. I don't suppose you're scheduled to leave before then?" she asked hopefully.
Ella wasn't. By 10:20, armed with a new ticket and the recommendation to 'buy online from now on,' she had made it past the security check, and was hurrying down the corridor to gate nr. 29. By 11 am, she was hurrying down that same corridor, armed with a new recommendation: 'Always double-check that you picked up all your belongings from the security belt, Miss.'
She boarded the plane with seconds to spare.
~~
Ten rows behind, Gabriel went limp with relief: she had made it! He had been out of his mind with worry, and just about ready to disembark. There was no point in going to Rome without Ella. Perhaps he should get back, patch things up with Amy, and forget the whole thing. What was he thinking, anyway, following the bane of his existence halfway around the world? Except he wasn't even following her, because she was nowhere in sight. Then she stumbled down the aisle, smiling awkwardly, and Gabe remembered all his reasons. She was Ella!
~~
So that's how taking off on the Great Adventure felt like: hollow, with a stomach lurch. Funny that she had imagined elation. Mechanically, Ella reached for the notebook in her backpack. Her hand moved with practiced ease across the page, sketching the faces in her mind: Mama, and Papa, and Nona of the wise, knowing eyes. Hesitantly, she started filling in the contours of Gabe's face. It wasn't right. She erased them quickly and started again.
It never came right anymore. Ever since he had returned home this summer, he was different. It wasn't just the two years he had spent abroad, designing computer networks for his company. She could capture that increased awareness of the world easily enough. It was the different light in his eyes. The soft, far-away look he sometimes got. It was the woman he had brought with him and introduced to everyone as his fiancée: Perfect!Amy.
Ella closed her eyes on the pain. This summer was supposed to have been theirs, the way no summer had been since he'd left for college. And this time, she wasn't going to be a burden. This time, with a degree and a job offer under her belt, they would talk as equals. He would admire her work - maybe even be a little awed by her future fame.
"See, Gabriel, where my stupid doodles got me? I'm going to illustrate books for Scholastic!"
"Good for you, kid," he replied absently, turning back to his fiancée.
She had lost him - for the second time in her life. It was as sudden, as bewildering as the first time. Back then, it had been Alex who had stolen Gabe from her.
~~
She was ten when Alex entered their lives. Christmas Day. She remembered that clearly: the hum of happy voices in St. Mary's hall after Mass, the aroma of the panettones waiting on the tables for Father's blessing.
And the Lombardi brothers pushing her into a corner, trying to steal her cookies. In the crash of people, no one saw them. Gabriel was eyeing the candy on the Christmas tree. Clutching the crumbling cookies, she dashed around Daniel and Damian and ran for the shed in the back yard. That was her secret haven. At ten, its jumble of broken chairs, moth-eaten pew cushions, and cracked pieces of stained glass imbued it with the mysterious allure of Treasure Land. The shed was Atlantis, Persia and Sparta, all rolled in one.
Atlantis was currently occupied by a stranger.
She skidded to a halt, breathing heavily and squinting into the shadows. The shape that had sprung to its feet was huge - taller than the Lombardis, and faster. She took a step back.
"Who are you?"
He eyed her cagily, checking over her shoulder.
"Mommy and Daddy are right behind me," she said quickly. "And Gabriel, and Nona, and Gabriel's parents, and... " Her babble trailed off when he stepped into the light. He was not so big after all. Tall, yes, but very thin. "Who are you, boy?"
He didn't answer. His hand shot forward and snatched the cookies she had forgotten she was clutching. Before she could blink, he wolfed them down, still eyeing her warily.
"Are you hungry?" she tried again. "You could come inside the hall. The food blessing will be over soon, and then we'll all have lunch."
"Scram!"
Ella bit her lip. "Or you could have more cookies..."
"Git! And don't tell no one you saw me, or I'll break your neck. You hear me, little girl?"
"My name is Ella," she whispered over her shoulder.
Half an hour later, her pockets stuffed with cookies, she tiptoed back in. The boy wasn't there. With a sigh of relief, she dumped her load onto the nearest chair and ran.
She didn't see 'The Boy' for a long time afterwards. And she didn't tell anyone about him, not even Gabriel. Perhaps she had understood, even then, that it was best to keep them apart.
The sandwiches she left in the shed each Sunday after the service were gone by the next week.
~~
"Miss? Excuse me, Miss, are you OK?"
"Sorry, what?" Ella came back to the present with a jump.
The flight attendant held her professional smile firmly in place. "I asked whether you would like something to drink. We'll be serving lunch in a few minutes."
"Oh." Ella checked her watch, then the drinks cart. Coffee? Maybe later. "Um, may I have a cup of tea, please?"
"Sure." Efficiently, the flight attendant arranged the steaming cup and sugar packets on the serving tray. Ella reached over to grab them. The plane gave a mighty lurch.
"OW! Ouch, ow, dammit!"
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! It was an accident, I'm so sorry!" Frantically, Ella grabbed a napkin and attempted to help her scalded neighbor.
She faltered.
The tea had splattered where no napkin should go. All she could do was watch helplessly as the man bulleted out of his seat, hollering and holding his pants away from his crotch.
By the time he reappeared from the restroom, he was calmer. "Thank God the tea didn't stain my Armani suit. You wouldn't have liked it if I made you pay for it."
Ella swallowed hard. In her experience, people reacted to occasional mishaps in one of two ways: they became aggressive, or they became passive-aggressive. No question which category her neighbor fit in. Clearly, it was time for The Strategy. First: apologize profusely and introduce yourself. Hmm, only a grumpy growl in response. Alright, then, b: small talk. Oh dear, now he was glaring at her! Eyes fixed on his bulging neck, Ella blurted out,
"I love your tie!" (your garish, reindeer-dotted tie)
"Do you? It's designer silk." Instantly in a good mood, he told her how much it cost ('Wow!' Ella exclaimed incredulously), showed off his custom-made shoes, then segued seamlessly into his life story. He owned a successful construction business in Vegas ('Have to know the right people!'). There was an Italian woman waiting for him in Rome - a brand new girlfriend of exquisite beauty and impeccable taste ('Here! What do you think of this little diamond choker I got her?'). As he waxed poetic, she pictured a popinjay and a fox taking the passegiatta in Piazza d'Espagna. It was such an entertaining image, that she was grinning widely by the time the flight attendant arrived to collect their lunch trays. And grinning, lost her grip on hers.
"NOOOOOO! No no no no no," the man moaned, staring numbly at his suit in all its saucy glory. "Are you doing this to me on purpose, lady? Did my wife hire you? Tell me, is she trying to ruin my Christmas with Emanuelle?"
"Sir, I'll have to ask you to calm down."
"Calm down?" He rounded on the flight attendant. "Do you know how much this suit cost? Who's gonna pay for it? This... this... fucking bumbler? I want her out of here! You hear me? OUT OF HERE!"
~~
The plane was descending. Gabe came out of his nap disoriented, squinting at his watch. They couldn't be there already, could they? Too early! Too... noisy! What was that noise up ahead? At that moment, the captain's voice came on the speaker.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have to make an unscheduled stop at Boston's Logan airport. There's no need for alarm. Unfortunately, we have an unruly passenger aboard, and airline procedures require that we land and hand him over into police custody. We are currently into a holding pattern above Boston. I'll keep you updated as we go."
The updates came steadily throughout the next two hours. The man did not go quietly. It wasn't until the FBI, who had been tracking him for a month, came on board, that he stopped mentioning his Armani suit. The FBI Agents thanked Ella warmly, explained how she could collect her reward, and then the plane was finally ready to take off -
- just as soon as a slight incident could be resolved. Apparently, a flight attendant had been hit in the head by a badly stowed piece of luggage.
Ella squinted at the open overhead compartment and sighed in relief: it wasn't her carry-on! It was the black laptop case next to it. She'd shifted it to make space for her bag, and knew that it was heavy. Poor flight attendant!
Another hour later and one stewardess short, they were airborne again, and headed for Rome. Tempers on board were running hot. Ella slid back into her memories.
~~
Inevitably, Gabe met the mystery boy - not under the best of circumstances.
Angelo Pirelli was twisting Gabriel's arm up around his back at the time. His left eye was swollen shut, and Ella lay sprawled on the ground. Angelo Pirelli was the Lombardis' cousin. He was bigger, older, and twice as mean. Which was why Ella thought that her head had gone funny from Daniel's hair pulling, when she saw Angelo take flight. A few moments later, Daniel's head snapped back, and she felt her legs being released from Damian's grip. Two rough hands pulled her up, turned her over like a doll, then set her against the school's fence.
"You're OK. Your knight in shining armor has a broken arm, though," The Boy said.
She didn't know why he sounded angry, as if he'd been the one getting pummeled. She didn't get a chance to ask. The boy turned and walked away.
There was no keeping the secret from Gabe after that. And then, there was no keeping him from trying to meet the boy. 'We have to thank him, Ella! Did you see how he threw Angelo over his head?' and 'We should find out who he is. My God, the way he slammed Daniel - wham!' and from then on, they spent every available hour in the shed. Gabe declared that they would do their lessons there. Her mutiny was overruled. Worse yet, two weeks later the summer holidays rolled around. Suddenly, they were free as larks, and Mama thought that playing outside until dark was good for them, 'get your heads out of the books for a bit.' Before dark on the third day, the door of the shed slammed open.
"You two, get lost!"
Ignoring the order, Gabe thrust out his hand. "I would like to thank you for helping us the other day."
"I said, get lost!"
But they hadn't gotten lost. To Ella's amazement, Gabe had patiently managed to talk the boy into giving him his heart's desire.
"Oh, alright, I'll teach you how to fight, then," the boy agreed glumly. "But you have to ditch her."
"He won't ditch me," Ella fumed. "I'm his bestest friend."
...Just as Gabe agreed, "Of course I'll come alone. My name is Gabriel, by the way. You can call me Gabe."
"I'm Alex."
And that's how she had lost Gabriel the first time around. Oh, he still continued to watch over her, of course; from then on, so did Alex. But she was no longer Gabe's bestest friend.
~~
Ten rows behind, Ella's former bestest friend was remembering that exact same day. Alex. Who would have thought that the scrappy runaway and the bespectacled geek would become inseparable? And yet... Here they were, having spent the past six years refusing to see each other. Had he been right to blame Alex about Ella? He didn't know anymore. All he knew was that soon he and Ella would be landing in Rome. She would find out who ragazzo1225 was.
And the chips would fall where they may.
The amazing thing about Gabe's trail of thought, by this point in our story, is this: After a lifetime of knowing Ella, he can still underestimate her capacity to wreak havoc. Unbeknownst to him, she has already struck the deadly blow to his plans - as he is about to find out.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain again," the dispirited voice came back on the speaker. "I'm afraid I have more bad news. We have just been notified that due to the weather conditions, Fiumicino Airport will close in half an hour. Because of our delay in Boston, we won't be able to make it. We have been directed to land in Milan instead..."
The din of protests drowned out the remainder of the speech. Gabe noticed fearfully that more than one angry gaze had narrowed hotly on Ella. In a less civilized age, they would have chanted, 'Witch! Witch!' by now. Luckily, it was the 21st century.
Luckier yet, they landed soon after, and everyone scrambled to make new arrangements and harangue the badly overworked airline officials. With the trains to Rome suspended, as well, there followed a mad dash for hotel rooms. Gabriel managed to get a cramped one in a two-star motel.
By that time, Ella was already asleep in a Marriott room, smiling to her dreams.
~~
Ella's first two years of high school were the best of her life. Alex had his own apartment, and began inviting her along. Neither she, nor Gabe knew what he did for money - 'a night job,' he said vaguely - and she was afraid he was fencing stolen goods.
"Ask him, Gabe," she kept pleading. "I don't want you to get in trouble because of him."
"I trust him," Gabe replied stubbornly. "He would never put me in danger. Nor you!"
Their afternoons were spent in quiet companionship. Gabe studied. Alex read. Ella sketched in her ubiquitous notebook.
"What are you drawing there?" Alex asked one day.
Gabe snorted. He thought Ella's drawings were a stupid waste of time.
"Just doodles," she replied defensively. But Alex didn't snort. He stared over her shoulder for a long while. Then he picked up the notebook, flipped back the pages, and started from the beginning.
Inca women caring baskets on their heads, climbing their way to an intricate Machu Picchu.
The sunrise through the columns of the temple of Vesta, crowning an indomitable Cesar.
Priestesses making human sacrifices in the shadow of the Palace at Knossos.
"Are these real scenes, like, from history?" Alex finally asked.
"Yes!"
Gabe rolled his eyes. "No one knows how those people lived. And the real places are in ruins. But Ella doesn't like facts. She'd rather make things up."
"This notebook is real, isn't it? So when I draw them, they become real, too." Ella blinked to clear her eyes. "Reality is grander than you imagine, Gabriel Harris!" How it hurt that he refused to understand that!
"If I describe something to you, could you draw it?" Alex's eyes were bright with excitement. "I mean, sci-fi stuff, not history."
"Of course," she said cheekily. "I can make anything real."
So he described his favorite book, 'Ender's Game,' and Ender Wiggin flew his deadly squad on the page across from where Nubians were building the Great Pyramid. Then Captain Nemo's submarine surfaced between a drawing of the Eiffel Tower and a gentle image of a Hawaiian beach.
Ella hurt a lot less.
Unfortunately, reality also existed beyond the pages of her notebook. Gabriel graduated and went to college. Ella got her driver's license. And shortly after that, she got lost while driving. As the hour grew late, she zigzagged around a strip mall, eventually circling to the service entrance of Walmart. Grimy workers were downloading trucks - sweaty, coarse men, swearing a blue streak. Ella pulled up beneath a street light just as one of them looked her way. She stared incredulously into Alex's eyes.
The following afternoon, he bundled her school things unceremoniously and ordered her out of his apartment.
"But why? I don't understand, Alex. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
"Get out!"
"You can't really mean that. I'm your friend!"
"You're nothing but a girl. The most annoying, blundering klutz I've ever met! Now get the hell out of here!"
And so the best two years of her life came to an end.
~~
She saw Alex only once more, during her first year at Yale. That day, her two roommates got struck by one of their regular Pizza Craves. Ella had to go along. Though she would never admit it, she was easily flustered by Mary and Annette. They both came from old money, and sailed through life with the flamboyant self-assurance of the never-ugly-ducklings. People jumped to do their bidding. Men ate out of their palms. Nevertheless, Ella liked them. For the first time ever, she had girlfriends.
"Good evening, ladies. My name is Alex and I'll be your waiter to-"
"Alex! What are you doing here?" She jumped up and hugged him, forgetting their last parting.
"Ella, you know the waiter?" Mary's emphasis made the last words synonymous with 'the help.'
"I used to deliver pizza to her house," Alex lied smoothly. "She tips well. Are you ladies ready to order?"
"We need a few more minutes. Can we have a round of Cokes in the meantime: one diet, two regular, with lemon slices all around," Annette said without looking up from the menu.
Alex bowed stiffly. "At your service."
"WAIT!" Ella burst out. People were staring their way, but her eyes never wavered from him. "Don't you treat me like we're strangers!"
"Fool!" he muttered sharply. "Your Ivy League friends didn't have to know you used to be chummy with the waiter!"
What? She looked from him to her roommates, who were clearly intrigued by the drama. Her chin went up. "Mary, Annette, this is my friend, Alex. We've grown up together in Brooklyn. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to help him bring those Cokes to the table."
In the pregnant pause that followed, Mary and Annette looked at each other, eyebrows up into their hairlines. Then Mary shrugged.
"Why don't I bring the Cokes? You two sit down and catch up."
"I have a better idea, Mary," Annette said. "I think we should both waitress tonight. The way this place looks, I doubt that Alex would have time to chat otherwise."
Ella choked on a strangled laugh. But the girls meant it: they pushed their sleeves up and marched right into the kitchen.
It turned out to be a great night. Mary and Annette made it their mission to head off Alex, and reach his customers first. 'Talk to Ella!' they ordered every time he protested. He did, back in the kitchen, in between filling glasses. For the first time, he told her about his plans of owning a restaurant one day; his apprenticeship with the pizza chef; and moonlighting as a pastry assistant on his days off. She talked about college - and making friends. Her roommates amassed a fortune in tips, and declared the evening a rip-roaring success.
They still ended the night in the red, though: Ella tipped over a huge stack of plates.
~~
December 25
Christmas Day dawned bright and clear, trying to atone for the eve's snowstorm. At the window, Ella watched listlessly as the plow shaved off another strip of white, pushing a growing mound of slush to the sides. The coffee maker gurgled merrily behind her.
Nearly four hundred miles between her and ragazzo1225, and no way to get there on time! With a sigh, Ella let the drape fall. She imagined a dashing stranger with a notebook in hand - their agreed-upon sign. He was pacing around Piazza della Rotonda, waiting for her, checking his watch... walking away again, never to share his wonder of Rome with her: I envy you your talent for drawing. I used to feel that my soul was muzzled, until I learned that there were those who could do what I couldn't: bring my world to life. For two years, I've been roaming churches and museums, learning of light and shadow, man's world and God's. Your artist's eye will no doubt perceive much more in these paintings. I can hardly wait to take you roaming with me.
And so he would! If she had to hitchhike all the way to Rome, she was going to make it. Feverishly, Ella threw her toothbrush back into the suitcase, slammed the lid shut, and hurled out the door.
As it turned out, it took a combination of buses, local trains, and old-fashioned hitchhiking to make her way south. In Siena, she took a break, not to admire its fantastic black and white duomo, but to email ragazzo1225: no matter how hard she was trying, she was going to be late. Once or twice, she also managed to get quite lost, catching a glimpse of Assisi's serene monastery in the process. But, as they said, all roads did eventually lead to Rome. The Pantheon was stained red by the winter sunset when Ella finally trudged into Piazza della Rotonda.
Only a handful of people remained: a few brave tourists snapping pictures, a few locals warming their insides with a glass of wine. She was startled when a man stepped out of a nearby taverna, put his collar up and hurried away hunching against the wind. For a moment she'd thought... Get a grip, Ella, you know he can't be here! She'd better get some warm food inside her, before the cold and hunger made her see things. Then she would look for an Internet cafe, and see about contacting ragazzo1225 again.
With that eminently reasonable plan, Ella stepped inside the taverna. Her foot froze in mid-step as a very familiar man stood up from his table and held a chair out to her. Not another hallucination! Rubbing her eyes, she looked again. Still there.
"Hello, Ella. Merry Christmas!"
"You! What - how - what are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you. Have a seat?" he gestured. "You must be ravenous. Here, let me pour you a glass of Chianti while you look over the menu. Or would you rather have some coffee?"
She eyed him curiously. Why was he babbling like an idiot? And when had he started wearing formal suits? Then she forgot all else as her gaze lowered to the table.
"Where did you find this?" Ella snatched her old, beloved notebook and started shuffling through its well worn pages. Inca women climbing towards Machu Picchu. Ender's deadly game. Captain Nemo's submarine. "I've been looking for this for ages! I thought I lost it."
"You didn't lose it. I stole it."
"You WHAT? But why?! And why are you telling me now? I don't..." Her head snapped back: Piazza della Rotonda. Notebook. "You!" Just that whisper, and she was off her chair, rushing blindly towards the door.
"Ella! Hey, wait." He caught up with her outside and hauled her into his arms, oblivious to the stares of the passersby. "Is it so terrible that I'm your secret admirer, then?"
"Secret admirer!" she scoffed. "You must have gotten a really good kick out of my emails. Well, never mind, I'm glad I was entertaining. And I hope you choke on your stupid joke!"
"That makes no sense whatsoever, you silly girl!"
He dared laugh, on top of everything? Blind with rage, Ella twisted and kicked, but there was no struggling out of his grip. Stupid big man with stupid big muscles - he probably still worked out every day!
"Stop wriggling for a sec, will you?" he snapped. "I'm trying to give you your Christmas present. God! You'll end up tripping and injuring yourself. Here! You've probably broken them into crumbles by now, with all that squirming."
He'd managed to extract a small package from his coat pocket, and pushed it into her hands. Ella stared nonplussed.
"Cookies? You brought me cookies?"
"Yeah, well, it seemed fitting. You know, Christmas Day, across the yard from a Church... or in this case, across the piazza." He nodded at the dark shape of the Pantheon and ruffled her hair. "It was supposed to be noon, only someone couldn't get here on time."
"You still remember that first Christmas Day?!"
His expression grew solemn. "I'm not likely to ever forget the day that changed my life. Ella!" He gripped her hands, struggling to get the next words out - he couldn't. Even in the dim light, his face was very red. Abruptly, he let go of her. "Look, I want a Christmas gift from you, too!"
"Oh. Oh, Alex." How mortifying! "I did buy something for you... for ragazzo... well, for you! But I thought he was Italian, so I bought, you know... New York memorabilia and stuff."
"Oh, yeah? What did you get me?" His face split into a wicked grin. "A snow globe with the Empire State Building? A mini Lady Liberty?"
"A photo album!" she protested indignantly.
"Ah, yes, the sweet sights of home! Well, it doesn't matter, because the Christmas gift I want isn't the kind you can buy in a store. That notebook I stole from you - it has a blank page left. And I'd like you to draw a picture on it."
"Oh." What a relief! "Sure."
"Not so fast! You must listen first. I don't want a make-believe scene. I want a real scene - really real to the very last detail. Shall I describe it to you?" Upon her cautious nod, he closed his eyes. His voice took on a hushed, dreamy tone she'd never heard before. "Picture this: There's a coffee shop on Via di Sant'Eustachio, with a green little pergola over the entrance. It's not a big place, but it is cheerful, and always crowded. At a table in the back, a young man and woman are sipping lattes and eating cookies - just like the cookies you're holding now. The woman is sketching furiously on a large pad. She's a book illustrator, and I wouldn't be surprised if she is coming up late on her deadline."
"Of course she is, because the man keeps getting cookie crumbles on her pad! No self-respecting illustrator would eat while she works."
"Nag, nag. Meanwhile, the man pretends to be reading a loan contract. He's decided to expand his cafe."
"It's his cafe?"
"Yep. Well, his and the bank's, for now."
"I see. But what is he really up to? You said he pretends that he's reading. What's he doing in reality?"
"Oh. The same thing he's always been doing: he watches her draw." Alex paused.
"So there you have it, that's the scene."
"A homey scene," Ella whispered.
"A homey scene." He watched her intently. "Can you draw it?"
No. This was too much to ask. When she'd boarded that plane for Italy, she'd been thinking about a few days, maybe a few weeks if things went well. She'd certainly not been planning for a crossroads. Even though her mystery man was no stranger - even though he was her familiar blunt Alex - yet also, the sensitive, insightful ragazzo1225... Still, she couldn't... "Of course," she heard herself declare cheekily. "I can make anything real."
~~
Epilogue: December 31
"I hope to God I didn't make a mistake. Do you think I made a mistake leaving her with Alex?"
"For the thousandth time, Gabriel: no, you did not make a mistake." Amy felt the horrible headache coming back. "As I keep telling you, it's not your mistake to make. Ella is a big girl. She'll make her own choice."
"He'd better not ditch her again, that's all I'm saying. Did I tell you he ditched her, as soon as I left for college?"
"Only a dozen times so far. And I don't think he ditched her. I prefer to think that he was wise enough to let her spread her wings. I swear, if my cousin smothered me like you did Ella, I'd... I'd... ARGH!"
"Ella's special," Gabe said defensively. "You have no idea how much trouble she can get into. I think I aged five years when I lost track of her in Milan. And then I got to Rome, and Alex showed me the email she'd just sent him: she was hitchhiking across Italy!"
"Yet in the end, she got there perfectly fine on her own, didn't she?"
"Well..."
"So I hope you learned your lesson, and will stop overreacting from now on." Amy watched him suspiciously, a slight edge to her voice. "You're not still thinking of traipsing after Ella each time she goes on a trip!"
"No, no," Gabe said quickly. "Don't worry. That's Alex's job from now on."
"Oh, you are impossible!" Giving up, Amy went into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. It was useless. He wasn't going to stop obsessing until Ella got in touch. She could only hope that that was going to happen sooner rather than later. Not that she didn't understand how a woman in the whirl of new love might temporarily forget about the rest of the world. Still, when one had a worrywart for a cousin, one better be more considerate of others. And one better not ruin others' New Year's party!
"Amy, come, come quickly!" Gabriel's shrill summons propelled her into motion, face splotched with mascara.
"What's wrong, what happened?"
"Look!" Pointing at the TV screen, he turned up the volume. "Listen!"
... Arson investigators are now saying that the fire started from a coffee maker left unattended in one of the guest rooms, although the collapse of the building makes it impossible to determine precisely which one. As we previously reported, the Marriott hotel near Milan airport burned down on Christmas morning. Fortunately, all the hotel guests - including many Americans - were evacuated in time.
"So?"
"What do you mean 'so'? Ella stayed at the Marriott!"
Amy rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Gabriel, you're taking this too far! That fire could have been anyone's fault."
... And - it seems that the streak of bad luck continues in Italy. In another freak accident, Coldplay's New Year concert was brought to a screeching halt when the lights at Rome's Stadio Olimpico unexpectedly went out. The subsequent stampede resulted in hundreds of injuries, though no casualties were reported. Ros? Back to you.
Thanks, Charlie. Let's wish the Italians a Lucky New Year! And in local news..."
"You'd better get dressed, Gabe. We're going to be late for the party."
"Fine, fine, just a second, hon." Gabriel turned off the TV and logged into his laptop one last time. And there it finally was - the long awaited message!
Dear Gabe and Amy,
Happy New Year! Sorry for writing so late - hope you see this before you leave for the party. We've been a bit busy around here. I'm in the hospital with a broken leg. Don't worry, though, Ella's fine. She is a little shaken, but I'm sure she'll bounce back in a few days.
We went to see the Coldplay concert last evening, and Ella accidentally..."
Secret Santa's Quiz: Which one of Ella's mishaps happened exactly the same way to Secret Santa?