Where Are They Now
by Cristina Legarda
Kathleen flew to Italy for a conference, but she had signed up for the conference to find a lost love. Not because she wanted to rekindle anything – that long-ago summer in Florence belonged in the past. But she was curious as to what had become of Luca. Luca, the folly of her college years; the love that had made her lose her mind for a season.
She was staying in one of those old pensiones with a roof terrace, a grumpy-friendly concierge-porter-handyman, no air conditioning, tired upholstery, and a passable continental breakfast every morning. She glanced through the conference program while she sipped the last of her coffee: Brunelleschi’s Dome: A Second Look; Secrets of the Brancacci Chapel; The Frescos in the Basement: What Happened in Siena; so many presentations she wanted to attend. But even the most captivating session couldn’t distract her from The Plan.
The Plan was to leave the conference toward the end of the afternoon and walk toward San Miniato. Perhaps she would get an espresso or a gelato on the way. She would sit in the little piazza where she knew, from stalking him on the internet, Luca’s office was located and wait for him to exit. She would be wearing sunglasses, of course, and she wouldn’t speak to him – just watch, perhaps tail him for a while. Maybe he would stop and buy flowers for someone– a wife, a mistress, a girlfriend – on his way home. Maybe he would, as he often had when they were young, sit at a café to sketch and unwind. Perhaps he had some gray hair by now, and with that infuriating gift men of a certain age have, he would look distinguished and even more handsome, rather than old and washed out. Or maybe he had a married man’s little potbelly – a dad bod – and she would smile at how they were both sagging a bit now, so removed from the taut and energetic bodies of thirty years ago, gleaming with sweat after an afternoon of lovemaking.
Kathleen’s heart was pumping faster than she thought possible as she approached the little piazza, sat at an outdoor table across from where Luca’s office was, and ordered a limoncello. She was too jittery for espresso. She pulled a copy of Oggi out of her bag and started leafing through it without registering anything she was looking at. After what felt like an hour, but was only minutes, she finished her limoncello and her page turning, all the while glancing intermittently at the door of Luca’s building. This is stupid, Kathleen thought to herself. This is completely, insanely stupid.
She paid the bill and gathered up her things to leave, making an awkward scraping noise of metal against pavement when she tried to push her chair in. As she started to head back to her pensione she heard a voice behind her, deep and warm, and very surprised.
“Catalina.”
Holding her breath, she turned to face him.
Cristina Legarda was born in the Philippines and spent her early childhood there before moving to Bethesda, Maryland. She is now a practicing physician in Boston. Her work has appeared in America magazine, The Dewdrop, Plainsongs, FOLIO, Lucky Jefferson, HeartWood, Coastal Shelf, The Good Life Review, and others.