“What are we shopping for, exactly?”
“You’ll see.”
The Art of Jumping In
There’s something sort of magically eerie about being in a park after midnight.
Parco delle Cascine is usually bustling with both tourists and locals, the lush, green, riverside park filled with bicycles and skateboards and picnic blankets and artists. I’d stumbled upon soccer games being played in the meadows, and markets lining the shady walkways. I’d set up my canvas to paint here when I’d first arrived and sat on a bench to watch the sun set over the city.
But in the moonlight, the trees swayed with whispered promises of discovery, and it felt like stepping into a fairytale book.
We didn’t pass a single soul as we strolled along the tree-lined path, and Liam didn’t say a word. He hadn’t said much at all since I reminded him he had to hold up his end of the bargain, other than to barter with the few restaurants still open to sell us a bottle of wine, along with a small selection of cheese, meats, and fruits.
It was somewhat dizzying, the way he volleyed back and forth between one mood and then the other so easily.
He carried the food in a brown paper bag, rolled three times and hanging from his left hand, and the bottle of wine by the neck in his right. I still had no idea what we were doing here, or what it had to do with doing something that terrified him, but I didn’t ask questions. I just followed his lead until we were sitting on the grass embankment overlooking the Arno River.
We didn’t have a blanket, so as soon as we sat down, the wet grass soaked through my dress. But it was a warm-enough night that I didn’t mind. In fact, it was oddly pleasant, as if sitting on a blanket would have separated me from the park, but lying in the grass made me a part of it.
I was one with the quiet current of the river, and the rustling leaves of the trees, and the cool, damp blades of grass.
“So, are you afraid of parks at night?” I asked as Liam used a gadget on his keychain to open the bottle of wine. We didn’t have glasses, so he took the first swig before handing the bottle to me.
He didn’t share in the smile I wore after the joke. In fact, he looked somber and lost in thought as he balanced his elbows on his knees, his eyes on the moonlit river.
“I promised you I’d do something that terrified me,” he said. “And what terrifies me most is talking about my past.”
Liam sucked up all the air in the park with that admission. The wind stilled, the distant noises of insects and birds faded away, and even the river calmed its current. It was as if the flora and fauna quieted and leaned in to listen, all eager to hear what he would say next.
“To use a tired and worn-out phrase, I had it all,” he said after a long pause, his eyes still fixed on the river. “And by that, I mean everything society told me I should want, that I should work for — I had. I was president of my fraternity at the University of Connecticut, landed an internship at a prestigious law firm the summer before my senior year, graduated with honors and was accepted into law school well before I walked the stage for undergrad. My parents were proud. I was proud.” He swallowed. “And the icing on the cake was Julie.”
Just saying her name made his voice catch, and he shook his head, clearing his throat before he turned to me and reached for the wine bottle hanging loosely from my left hand. I passed it over, hugging my knees as I waited for him to continue.
Neither of us reached for the food.
“I met her sophomore year. She was the fraternity sweetheart, and the most beautiful girl on campus. But she was more than that,” he said quickly. “She was smart, and driven, and witty. She could charm an entire room no matter what the occasion.” He paused. “I asked her to marry me as soon as we graduated, and she said yes.”
My heart thumped loudly in my chest, in my ears, warning me that no matter where the story went from here, it would take a dark turn. Because there was no ring on Liam’s finger, and from his activities in Florence this summer, I knew he wasn’t still engaged.
And he certainly wasn’t married.
“We took a year to plan the wedding. Well, Julie did the planning. I just said yes, dear to whatever she wanted,” he said, the corner of his mouth crooking up at the memory. “I was focused on law school, anyway — studying, interning, networking. So between cake tastings and registry shopping, I worked my ass off and aced my first year.” He chuckled. “Dad was so proud, he offered to put a down payment on a new house for me and Julie after the wedding.”