By 2:30am we had closed down our last wine bar. The waiter
handed us plastic cups and emptied the rest of our bottle into them. We went
back out into the night. We were lost but not entirely concerned with
correcting it. An impromptu choir apparently forms around the Spanish steps
every night. We passed them and can only assume that this was where our
stragglers latched on. The Italian boys. So the four of us became lost together
in Rome with Chianti and no reason or desire to go to sleep. The alarm would go
off at 6:30 and the car would arrive at 7:30 and we'd come off of Pacific time
and an eleven hour nap on the plane. By accident we found our hotel again and
tried to leave them at the street but they snuck in. We tried to push them out
of the elevator, playfully but with a force that should have been interpreted
differently. They would not be deterred. Upstairs they continued their
conversation in broken English while my sister showered and I pushed the
advances of one off. I laughed at my private joke when I told him that I was
conservative, stop, don't you know about American girls? He did not know. No
one does. That way of being was 60 years ago.
When my sister was out of the shower the second Italian boy
moved in. He'd barely survived my wrath when he lit a cigarette for her. I
don't care if she's 20. I'll cut him. As he moved in closer to her I grabbed
him with both arms around the waist and pulled him out of the room and into the
elevator as he kicked, personally escorted both downstairs and then I
enlightened them to the fact that Chelsea was my little sister and therefore
forever off limits to everyone as I dumped them into the street. I said
goodnight. It was 5 am in Rome and I was wide awake.
