I’ve known Vincent since he was born, it wasn’t a surprise to see him so young, but it was a shock to see him here, dancing. He had a blank, somber expression, but his high cheekbones stood out when he would suck in his mouth, and that meant he was bored. We stood only inches away from each other, but there was this large wall blocking our emotions, unable to identify who’s who.

“Not enjoying the lesson?” I say


“Not enough sleep.”

He always kept everything short and simple. Always knew how to push away from a conversation, his words hit my ears like frost, just like the temperature here. It was cold, not the cold in Chicago, but the cold in Italy. In Chicago, firefighters leave warehouses covered in ice. The cold in Italy was 25 Degrees and the breath of an old sixty four year old man who shoved a Popsicle in his mouth. It was going to be fairly warm since we’ve been dancing since five in the afternoon, the sun was shading down, making a brilliant tiger gold. I came with my husband for our honeymoon, Italy, he says he wants to go.

“Where?” I asked.

“There is the famous Basilica of St. Nicholas and Crypt” he says.

He brags whenever he get a chance at these God forbidden CEO dinner parties. Three arches have been added to reinforce the structure of the buildings in Italy, standing outside is a large Iron build of San Nicola holding a sword and a mini formation of a church. It’s not enough that I’m married to an Italian man, but I have to go to his birthplace too. If the looks of prejudice and questions of when we are getting married weren't enough, he had to drag me to a beautiful country that prides itself of foreign language, religion and being outdoors. I wasn’t prepared, I wanted to stay home with the black pug and spend thanksgiving watching Groundhog Day on Lifetime, and eating store bought frozen pumpkin pie, sleeping on the couch when the Macy’s Day Parade came. But here I am, no choice but to comply with his rules, such a sweet caring thoughtful man. Many people would want this as their dream, but I have no such dreams, and I am not many people.

“Is it a coincidence, that here we are... again?” Vincent says, putting his hands inside his black jeans and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

“The Gods and Goddesses of the universe sent us here to sort out our issues before one of us kills each other.”

“Funny, not all the Gods and Goddesses were made for peace.” He chuckles, backing away from the dome, lighting up a butt.

He turned to look at me, with cold deep dark eyes, walking backwards he blew a smoke out his lips. His dark blue orbs moved in many directions I couldn’t follow. He lifted his eyes and stretched a slow smile, with innocence written across his gleaming face. He only spoke of distraction, you could feel it but you couldn’t see it, he’s done it whenever we were alone, changing his personality. He wore an eerie black, the kind he would wear to distant a conversation with a stranger. I felt like I was being interrogated. The more he looked into my mind, the more the breeze flew and touched my warm skin, blowing my hair to my face. I wanted to push him away, throw him into the dance floor. We were waiting for someone to choose us for a spin, that’s the fun we receive when I arrived in Bari, Italy. The Pizzica, a type of dance that made a woman feel beautiful and man feel in charge the instructor said. I guess it’s not only in America they stereotype woman as housewives. I didn’t want to be here, I already said that a million times in my hea-

“Would you like to dance?” A sincere voice from my shoulder says.

He smiles with his tall stature and strong toned body with a short dark brown fro-hawk, wearing a cream brown suit coat with light pink dress shirt and ugly brown pants with oxford shoes. I should have recognized that voice, but it’s all new to me. Always new to me. If we came for our honeymoon, he should at least be behind me at all times. In all my life my father never had the time to fly to the sky, I never knew what was actually up there, and never understood why only Europe, Australia and Greece, Italy and much more where in High Sky’s. In order for me or any other traveling creature to explore beyond the grounds of earth, we have to take a plane flight to the sky, and land in the port of Bari Palese, Italy. Once you are high up above the sky, you can walk on the cirrocumulus clouds and they will protect you and bare your weight. The magic of this is, when it rains it starts out as a drizzle, then it changes into pounds of heavy rain within 30 minutes. The sun is larger and brighter, you never usually see birds unless it’s the bar headed goose. You would believe that flying so high would have less air, therefore require more oxygen, but it’s not true. In the High Sky’s, before you leave the main gate and contact real air, they drive you over to a health clinic called FMP (Foreign Medical Program), which supplies you with a weeks’ worth of pure oxygen, which you won’t need to work as much to breath.

“No, I’m tired. Let's go back inside the Victor.”

He gave me a look of dissatisfaction and mumbled under his breath Greeks. Yes I am Greek, no one on this planet would have noticed because my father is originally African. I hate being judged as a cold women, only in my early thirties and people see me as bitter. I could be as sweet as caramel, but only if someone smiled and gave a damn on what I thought and wanted.
“Well I want to stay. There’s a play showing at eight and I don’t want to miss it. You go ahead and take the gondola and I’ll meet you inside around ten, huh sweetheart?” He reaches his hand to touch my shoulder, knowing how upset I was, he kissed my cheeks then my hands.

I glared. I glared so tough and he noticed that I wasn’t enjoying my time. As he was going to reconsider, I huffed and puffed and blew his hopes down. He turned his body away, and let go of my freezing hands. I turned my body, frustrated I was going back to the hotel and stay indoors drinking and sleeping. My tight light brown curls whisked away and I bumped into my teenage hood friend. He looked at me with a sigh, flicked his cigarette and grabbed my wrist, dragging me out of the room, I finally noticed how dark it had become and already the clouds were setting apart.

“I'll take you back to the Victor and you shut up.”

Fussing and tugged away from his tight grip, I turn my head around to see the face of my precious husband smile and laugh at the harmony and melody of Italian music, oblivious to what was happening. There we go, the voice of a devil, seeming through my bare skin.

When I was thirteen and first saw Vincent, his brightness gleamed at the sound of his name. He grew up so healthy and wise, when I finally went to graduate high school, he called on my name, a voice that warmed my inner soul. The look of a six year old boy with short mushroom charcoal hair running to give me a hug, made my heart race at my senior year. Some things are not meant to be told to anyone, no matter how intoxicating it seems. But we haven’t spoken in years, and throughout those years I have changed without anyone asking me to. I felt separated and obliged to fit my personality into an innocent doll who followed everyone’s rules and did perfect. Screw this planet, I am not in any way perfect. I at least do my best, but the pressure surged me and made me feel sick to my stomach and dead in my feet. I dyed my hair gray, then finally golden brown and started wearing bold clothing such as leather, silk, boots, polyester, and tried to keep myself balanced and fresh. I wished for only one solution, to disappear. So I moved and all my problems were gone like water dripping into the cracks of a roof. I fell in love with coffee when I reached sixteen, its scent whisked my sinfulness away. From then on, I went to classes and took lessons and begged my father to let me go to become a barista as a profession. My mother the painter, was creative thoughtful and innovative and she was optimist about my thoughts and solutions. By her grace and love, I went to Italy and twelve years later here I am again.

Dragging me outside the ancient church and walking down long winding stairs, turning left and speed walking on the border of the vast ocean. I see that the clouds have smoothened and the sky is filled with colors of the stars. Nearing the mooring of the boats, I look up in fury realizing who’s tugging my body.

“Let me go, let me go!!”

I ripped my arm from his clenched fist, my chest rapidly was moved up and down, and his eyes widened with surprise, my voice was of a savage.

“Please, calm down, and get in. I’ll drop you off and leave you alone. You can trust me.”

I could feel his aroma becoming soft and sweet, and his eyes lowering down, looking at my hands. I felt bad, that the little Vincent from my own teenage and adult years was being yelled at, by me. He looked concerned, hurt and I could tell that he was pulling the cards out… but my soul said it was okay.

“How old are you turning?” I said.

“Nineteen. Was that him?”

“Why do you care?” My voice cascading and my fingers did the same, it was starting to get chilly.

“It was just start up conversation. I’m sorry if you don't like it.”

“No, it’s just tha-“

“Never mind, the gondolas here. Get in.”

He cut me off, and led me towards the boat. He reached out his hands and his orbs directed safety, I looked back and questioned my choices… and pushed my full body forward. He sat facing me, his legs stretching out inside the canal touching my thighs, the boat was flat and banana shaped, I felt wrapped and couldn’t argue. Suddenly a gondolier stood on the rear of the boat, looking forward, and rowed. The force of the pressure, made me fall back, and his unfriendly fingers reached out, grabbed around my waist and tugged me in. Within moments we were flying above the land and moving silently higher and higher. He gazed into my eyes and my knees trembled and I was scared of what to come. We looked down at the vas becoming grayer the higher we went. My stomach felt empty, the only thing I’d eaten was Orecchiette. The wind covered our faces, blowing our top skins away, revealing mysteries. We looked around and never at each other, but finally he sighed and quickly slides closer to me. He took one hand and lifted my chin, looking around my face. I spilled a tear, from the wind that is, and my mouth had no more to say. I knew why and what was going on, but I couldn’t say it, I finally locked my eyes with his also. I looked around his face, tracing any signs of blurriness, hoping that it was just an irrelevant dreams. Some type of insane psychopathic thing that I could go to my doctor for and they could give me over the counter pills. I tightened my throat, slowly closed my eyes, and took heavy breaths, grabbed onto the edges of the boats, causing the gondolier to yell in tongues. I felt a small breeze of wind blow above my lips. He wrapped his arms around me gently and as he came closer to me, I whispered his name.

“Vincent.”

He slightly took my lower lips into his, and pressed against my body hard, changing the motions of his hands, cupping my blazing cheeks. I squinted and pushed his tight muscled chest, trying to breathe and get space.

“Are you denying me? It’s not like you think I’m disgusting!”

He looked upset, breathing heavily and moved his head to cover his embarrassment. The gondola swooped down and my body elevated. In a quick sudden, Vincent face turned and his eyes widened, jumping to catch me into his arms. I closed my eyes and unexpectedly a huge thud was made. I peeked out one eye, and found myself covered in his black cotton coat. Opening both eyes and realizing of myself from his arms. Warmth calmed me over.
“It’s okay, we’re alright. Let’s get you to the hotel. What’s its name again?”

“The Victor.” I said.

He nodded his head, then stood out on the boat.

“Vincent, I’m sorry. But, no matter how long of a relationship we have… we just can’t.”

I was upset, and it showed. I wanted something I couldn’t have and he saw through me. He got out of the boat and stepped on the dock, paying the gondolier. I sat with my head down. He grabbed my hand and lifted me off the boat, swooping his arm under my knees and one under my upper back. Lifting me off my feet, my arms wrapping around his thick long neck. Carrying me, I could feel the frustration pounding through his chest. The dock was creaking and the clouds were making fog. The moon gleamed on his dirty blond hair, He looked like a prince, saving me from my past life. Right there at that moment, something triggered in me, a thought I haven’t had. Something that would banish me from not only this lovely town, but this vacation. I inclined till my mouth touched his ears.

“Could I… ever…”

Too scared to finish, I backed a bit off and immediately he twisted his head and looked at me with interest.
He stopped, and gently put me to the ground, lifted his arm to look at his golden Michael Kors watch, and sighed at the time.
“I want you to love me, like you did when I was born.”

“That’s disgusting.” I said with a twisted look.

“Did you believe it at the time?”

He stretched out his arms and whisked his hair back, only to fall back in place again.

“How many years are we apart? Too many! I am on my honeymoon, with a man entitled as my husband!”

I shouted the last three words with anger and jealousy. Jealousy at the fact that our love is too far apart.

“Karrieetta, I want you to look at where we are, at the possibilities and opportunities. The sun is gone and your so-called-husband is having a festive with who knows. I let you go when I graduated, emailed you to reconcile at least some friendship! Did I know you were going to be here? Did I make this all up in your head? All I ask is this once, you won’t regret this once. Etta, please, we might never get this again.”

We stood, like a confused maiden who fell in love with her owner, reaching to the resolution, only to let him go. I wanted to find pity somewhere else, I felt it only in this space we stood. I wanted to push him into the waters and see his agonizing face fall back. I wanted to slap him and leave bruises and questions. I wanted to do so much evil, but I ran forward. Grabbing his arms, yanking his head with my hands and forcefully kissing all my hatred away. Love is patient, jealous, hopeless and kind and so was his and mine. I could feel his teeth grinding into mine and his lips stinging my tongue, smelling the tobacco, and liked it. It was a battle to see who can take up less space and intoxicate another with sexual disgust.

I opened my eyes and my body was spinning. I finally saw the view of the place, great hunter green mountains and large longstanding buildings, gondolas flying by and illuminations flickering in the higher apartments of homes. The smell of cooked pasta, beer, and cigarettes. Buildings with crosses and bells chiming every hour, the feeling was very nineteenth century like. I was ashamed, afraid, wanted and hated, but I took my risk and leaped forward. Parting the heat, I almost looked away, but then thought to myself that what’s done is done. I should have known, later on in the future, money was being wasted and devil was consuming us… but I enjoyed every part of it.

“I have the keys…to the Victor” I said.

“Not this time princess.” He whispered and grinned.

As he was walking towards me, I began doing the opposite. Slow silent steps copied on the ground. I turned and walked in the dark curved ally way, knowing the deeper it got, the darker it was. My light green chiffon maxi dress sweeping the ground. It had a nice round neckline, and black diamonds on the belly button. He was only two steps away from stealing me. I shuddered but felt brazen with confidence. As we walked further, the sound of a key clinked on the stone ground. The wet clothes on the clothes line dripped in sweet harmony. I turned right and entered an apartment. The front door was large, molded and was very arch like. There were many details and designs built into the front of the home. I noticed the balcony was very Monopoli historic like, probably built before the 1900’s. The door was large and dark brown. It had rectangles placed perfectly apart from each other and a bronze lions head for the knocker. The ground had dirt and large amounts of caramel sand, and a man’s size ten sandals on the floor. Standing in front of me, he pulled keys out of his pants pocket and opened the door; making a slight noise, he stepped in, took off his Vans, and walked across the swallowing dark room to turn on the lights. I shook off my final purity and went over the threshold. I noticed the clock was now nine forty four, and I realized the time was slim.

“Vinnie?”

The room was precisely modern with many things looking like the geometry test I took years ago. The couch was black leather and square, it hadn’t been sat on. The photos and paintings were of woman in nineteenth century clothing standing near a boat or husband, some frames large, most were baby sized. The floor had white soft fluffy carpet beginning from the door to the front kitchen and wooden stairs, but the carpet was removable. Underneath was marble, every front door had an arch made on top. The room had a large window in the front to see who came and who gone. The house was painted peach like and held a lonely presence.

“Yes, darling?”
Leaning his shoulder on the front of the kitchen entrance, his smile was gentle.

“Huh?” I said with a blank expression.

He held a wide black and white checkered mug of warm vanilla coffee, the scent of it brought me closer. He laughed at me, I had forgotten that I first called his name. He advanced towards me, the way he looked in the dark matched with his home.

“You have a nice place. Very small, but then again, large for a lonely boy.” I was walking around the place observing it more before I left.

“I’m a man now. This place, could be great for one more.”

He walked up behind me as I was gazing up the stairs.

I felt an arm wrap around me, I jolted and swirled around till we were only inches from more. I took the coffee from his hand and laid it on a small table near the stairs. We were searching for meaning, but I only felt empty. My smartphone buzzed from my coat. He quickly pulled it off and threw it on the couch. My brain was confused on what I was supposed to do and my heart was thumping… He shut the lights, and before I knew it, I was pushed against the wall and fingers were searching my back for a zipper. My legs were wrapped around his waist and we returned to indecency. The room was warm with the aroma of vanilla and coffee beans, the smell of his leather jacket made the blood rush to my brain. I unzipped his jacket and giggled as I undid his belt. He roughly bit my upper lip and I could taste my own blood. Then again, he hit me against the wall, almost eating my neck away. Was it too much? Was it enough? Who am I? All of these questions rise into my head as he nibbled my ears roughly. I started to feel afraid, he had finally undid my dress and pulled it down to my stomach. I was shocked, I saw the reflection of myself at the window near the door. I grasped at my dress and bit my lower lip. I didn’t move and my back was hurting, he kept going oblivious of how I was feeling. He took off his Vans, and yanked off my boots in less than five seconds. His hair was a mess, is eyes were tiger wild like, he chuckled and kept hurting my back and lower body. He lifted his head to kiss my face, took one hand to push my hairs away and saw that I was frightened.

“What’s wrong? What is it? Is this uncomfortable?”

I finally saw his layers, his intentions. How young he was, how beautiful his future seemed, and I already had mine in place, what was I doing ruining his? Even though confused, he kindly let my back go. I slid down the wall and sat against it with my knee in the warm air. My eyes were closed and my ears could only hear the sounds of the leather zipper, I laid my head back, my hair enveloping my face. His belt was clinking, he grabbed the keys off the ground and furiously walked out the door, slamming it with a jolting end. I opened my eyes, stared at the steam rising from the mug. Sometimes it came, and sometimes it went. Empty was my soul and lightheaded was my mind. I sat there till the chimes of the bell boy delivered his paper. I finally got up and crouched like and ogre. My back hurt and my knees pained. The coffee was cold and the back of my dress was ripped. I took it, erasing what happened, putting on my navy blue wool coat and walked out the door. Turning back to the corner of the night before, I saw myself walking past me, half terrified and half evil. She grinned and I grinned back. The sky was getting heavy lighted and I searched the trashcans on the ground till I found the keys to the hotel. Coming back to the port and stretching my body all over the boat, I laid back and told the man to drop me off at the Victor.

He pushed his row and we were flying once again. The sun was lively but covered by baby pink and cotton blue clouds. I took my coffee which was sweet with vanilla, but cold because of time and dripped it over the mists, filling the land with my life. I smiled and closed my eyes. Time moved gradually, sand the morning was warmer than a summer’s day. As we set down to the ground he asked me for extra. I gave him euros and a mug. I walked into the hotel with tired eyes and past the counter up the stairs and to the elevator. The sound dinged and I lugged myself out. Taking slow steps I turned left, then eight steps away from my room I used my key and got the door open. My husband was showering and I took all of my clothes and shoved them into my suitcase. It made the zip sound, and the water abruptly stopped. The squeak of the turn made my stomach feel uneasy, so I sat on his suit on the bed, waiting for a battle.

I rolled out, with what I had and what I failed to receive.
The bell hop smiled at me. The people greeted me. I felt my cell phone buzz inside my pockets. I took it out and checked the message.

“Wait for me, we need to talk. – Husband”

I went to the airport.