「 lost in tuscany 」

Part 1: Pioggia in Toscana

Part 1 : Rain in Tuscany

" People say Tuscany is a sunny cozy land, where it hardly ever rains. But when it does, anything could happen."

_

I watch the cerulean sky goes dark in the middle of the day, as clouds taking place of where the sun belongs. There is a rare atmosphere, since it's been a year Tuscany last experienced rain. People close their shops and head home, waiting to hear thunder; which seems to be so vivacious.

When I was in Arizona, things were quite different. Instead of seeking to observe sunset every afternoon, I'd stay in the library for romantic books. I read about Italy in the past, which was one of the reasons why I aimed to live here.

And I do, settling here now.

Rain starts to pour down, not even hesitate. A crazy idea suddenly pops in my mind, and I decide to bug out between the deluge.

Grabbing the yellow feeble umbrella that I rarely used back at home, I swing it back and forth several times then release it.

Outside, the air seems to be colder, yet it doesn't stop me from leaving. I remember a colleague told me about a new gelato store at the entrance of the village last week. In fact, since she said it's pretty tasty, maybe I should give it a try.

While I trek, I catch a glimpse of myself in the windows and chuckle. I look like I've been in a fight; exhausted and hopeless. My eyes are covered in dark circles like pandas, as a result of staying up late. My hair looks messy. And my shirt - soaks from the damaged holes of the umbrella. Well, at least it isn't a white shirt, I guess.

I stop before a small store at the corner, it reads "vendiamo gelati", which means "we sell ice-cream". Hence for less than a minute, I enter.

'Ciao.' Says a deep, manly voice from the counter. A tall guy with brown hair, stunning features and sparkling black eyes is facing me. 

'Ciao.' I greet. 'I still can buy ice cream, right ?'

'For sure, ma'am. We're not closed until 9pm.' He replies. 

'Oh, I see. Well, actually are you Italian ?' I ask.

'No, I live here. For almost 10 years if you're curious.' He flashes a boxy smile which somehow makes my heart flutter in a moment. Just a moment.

'Oh. You look, uh...' I knit my fingers nervously, not sure if I'm right.

'Hm, I'm actually Portuguese.' He giggles lightly while handing me the menu. 'Choose your order, ma'am.'

I nod, then flip through the pages before finally find my biased flavor.

'Vanilla please, oh, and I need a large one.' I say.

'Sure. And you can just speak English, I guess.' He smiles and starts to scoop the ice-cream.

I practically scan the room after that. The walls are decorated with many vintage pictures of Italy, including Florence, Tuscany and Venice. The seats are placed neatly next to each other, all big enough for twenty people. I let out a small 'wow' which makes the guy chuckle.

'You seem to have a thing with "oh" and "wow", huh ?' He mumbles.

'Ani. Just a habit.' I admit, and gratefully hold the cup from him. 'Thanks...uh-'

'It's R, Rafael' He informs.

'Oh.' I smile. 'I'm G, Gibran.'

_

'So, you travel there ?' He wonders as we both move to the table beside the windows.

'No, I've lived here for 2 months.' I answer. 'Oh, It's the very first time I met someone who speaks English, really glad !'

R chuckles and I munch the ice-cream. The texture softens inside my mouth with a sweet chilling taste; a great combination between Vanilla and cinnamon.

'Hm. It's delicious !' I compliment.

He smiles. 'Our brand came from Venice, and today is my first day there.'

'And surprisingly, you're the first English speaker I've served as well.' R adds, his eyes brighten.

'It must've been fate, huh ?' I state, glancing at him while licking the spoon childishly.

'You believe in that thing ?'

'Yeah.' I give up eating the last bit of gelato. 'Delicious. Can I have more?'

He shakes his head, getting to his feet and grabs a napkin.

'Guardi tu, let me help.'

Not waiting for me to respond, R reaches to wipe my mouth. I straighten up, rifling through my backpack in order to hide the shy expression.

'T-Thanks.'

I stutter. Though it's obvious that boys that live in Italy are brave, I can't help feeling explosive. My heart races, my head spins around as if I am daydreaming. By some means, I can feel his gaze on me.

'I need to go.' I quickly hand him some money, but he refuses to receive. Instead, he beams.

'I will see you tomorrow, G.'

And that's how my story starts, on a rainy day.

_