Hey, Can I Touch Your Pants?[ON HOLD]

13~Tavolozza del Pittore

“Elliot, do you know where your mother went to school?” I asked him looking directly into his eyes. Now, at least these big eyes of his still looked the same... And yet, they still added to the uncanny resemblance he had with his father.

Elliot looked up in thought before furrowing his brows and admitting that he didn’t know the specific school. However, he offered that he knew I had attended some really great institute for architecture somewhere in California. I smiled to myself.

“You’re correct. I did go to a school here in California, but do you know the first school I went to?”

He snorted. “I don’t know, probably some elementary school in Queens.”

“Haha. Very funny, but I thought we were being serious.” I chided him. He got this uncomfortable look on his face and shrugged exaggeratedly.

“Well, I really don’t know what kind of answer you’re fishing for here, mom. I mean as far as I know, the architecture school you went to here in Cali is the only school you attended. I mean, as long as we’re speaking about your college education.” I guess he didn’t know about the other school.

“Alright, so it seems you know nothing. Although, I would’ve guessed you had done some research into my past. Putting that aside, have you ever heard of the Royal Institute of Fine Arts, otherwise known as RIFA?” I asked him. He made the obama meme face before answering. Hahaha, look at me. I’m almost forty, and I’m still cool. That’s right. I know what memes are.

“Yeah, isn’t that school known as the best for the arts? Like everything from visual, to dance, to music, to literature?” He replied almost doubting his answer.

“Yes, exactly. Next question: Do you know where this school is located?” I asked excitedly. Okay, this is going a little better.

“Nnn, I think it’s like on some Italian island, right?” I sighed. Nevermind about this getting a little better.

“Wrong. It’s located on a peninsula that’s almost like an island since some mountains fence it in. Also, it is not Italian but of Italian descent. The country itself actually came from a family of extremely rich and powerful merchants. The country’s name is Tavolozza del Pittore, often just called Tavolozza. It quite literally means ‘Painter’s Palette’ in Italian. It was named as such due to its shape that resembled its literal meaning. Well, as the story goes, these rich and powerful merchants docked on this peninsula for the first time and were surprised to find it was uninhabited. After asking the people of france, they came to find out that every colony that had been sent out to inhabit this peninsula didn’t survive. It was said to have barren land, no wildlife, and a poor fishing reputation. While most would have said that it was a pity, the merchant was filled with vigor. He wanted the peninsula. And so after much negotiation and use of his riches and influence, he bought the peninsula as his own private property. Everyone thought he was a madm--”

“I get it, mom. I don’t need a history lesson on how this country came to be.” He cut me off. I gave him a sour look.

“Well, long story short, he defied the odds and made the ungiving land into something like a paradise. His family was known for being patrons of the arts and a lot of the goods they traded were related to the arts in a way. So, they began the construction of an art school that would become the best and most prestigious in the world. They also gained independence from Italy several hundred years ago. The merchants were then established as the rulers and royal family of the island, despite already living a life as such.” I finished. Elliot nodded.

“So… What does this school in this super tiny country have anything to do with my father?”

“Uh, I met your father at this school.” I replied with emphasis on ‘your.’