When the morning comes

6 | the bottle wasn't empty yet

2002 Amarone della Valpolicella

The last day of the trip, you guys were free to do whatever you guys wanted to do. I'd changed in my swimsuit, sat on a rock near the lake after I had swam for a while. Near you on purpose. Wind through my dark hair, sun burning my skin. I sat there for an hour long, waited for you to approach me, but you never did. I didn't know if you truly didn't see me, or if you didn't know what to do so decided to not pay attention to me anymore. I felt upset, rejected in a way, even if we hadn't properly spoken ever since that night, didn't ask to meet anywhere else.

I just thought you'd see me, especially in my swimsuit. You were playing games with your peers, which was more than understandable, since it was a trip to get to know each other, but I still slumped down onto my bed into the mobile home, trading my swimsuit for a jumpsuit and stared out of the dusty window to see what you were doing. Smiling, being timid, self-aware, not giving too much from yourself away to the peers you didn't quite know so well. You glanced around several times, but I didn't know if you were looking for me, or just enjoying the surroundings. My insecurity barged through my secure, Italian tempered behaviour, and I figured it had been an impulsive action, and you decided after that night that I wasn't the one for you.

But how could that be, when I had definitely felt something there, between us? I was frustrated, laid on the bed for the remaining of the day with a book.

When dinner time came, I knew I'd be closer to you, so I put my frustrations aside and tried again. I had twirled my long, black hair in a messy bun, decided to help Papà bake pizzas, because it was a lot of work. We prepared the pizzas outside, the weather was lovely and we had a sunshade hovering above us. You and two other guys and girls had the set-the-table-duty. Strange, right? Since you'd had it the day before too. Guess no one saw me changing the schedule. Ha.

You had to walk past me several times to get the plates, cutlery and drinks out of our mobile home. I changed sides from Papà, so I stood near the entry. I acted like I didn't see you. Wanted to know what you would do. The first few times you walked past me without saying a word, I'd frowned, felt frustrated that you didn't talk to me, cursed at you in Italian under my breath.

Until I saw Papà looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. No wonder you didn't dare to talk. He did look intimidating with his black beard and dark eyes, rough hands from years of working and even when he had a visible tummy, his arms were muscled. "Papà! Your sauce is leaking off the dough." I'd said, purposefully pouring more tomato sauce on it than was needed.

With Papà cursing under his breath, crossing himself then fixing his pizza, I finally looked up at you. You gave me lopsided smile, waved at me. I gave you a smile back, wondered why you kept your mouth shut. You weren't courageous, Zev. Lame, even. Your confidence, if it was to call confidence, that night, was nowhere to be seen at day. But finally, when our last dinner time came, I'd heard your voice again.

I was placing the pizzas onto the tables, mumbling out prego like Papà wanted me to. I placed the pizza on the table where you were extra close to your plate. I had made it, wanted you to eat it. Prego, I said again. You were talking to Brendan, didn't see me. Then Charlotte came. "Do you have pinapple? So I can put it on my pizza?"

"Sei una cretina!" I yelled, giving her a frown. You're a fool. "I'm Catholic, please don't curse." I said then, which made you chuckle under your breath.

Charlotte had frowned, repeated her question. "Sei una deficiente." You're a moron. I kept mumbling, stumping over to our mobile home. In rapid Italian, I explained it to my Papà, who frowned at Charlotte, but allowed me to get it. Uncultured swines.

Canned pineapple, I shoved it on your table, looking at her. "Canned pineapple for a basic girl. Sorry, but the fresh pineapple is for people who just want the fruit. Would be a shame for the fresh pineapple itself and the pizza to put it on there. Pezzo di merda. I dare you to drink the water the canned pineapple is in after. Your stomach will burn like your words did to our roots. Pineapple on pizza." I shook my head in disapproval, then I felt your fingers on my skin. I stood still, abruptly, looked into your eyes, waiting in anticipation.

Your laugh was still hearable, it made me feel seen again. "Aurora, which one would you recommend me?" Your voice was mellow, honeyed. It surprised me, I'd only hear your whispering voice that night. It made me quiet for a brief moment.

Picking up a slice of pizza from the one I had prepared, I placed it onto your plate, giving you a cheeky smile. "Mine."

"Gladly, I'll take it."

Papà wanted to go for a walk in the area, wanted to take me with him. I didn't want to go, wanted to stay with you and eat with you guys, but I couldn't. With zero mood we walked through the forest that was near. Papà pointed out the beauty of the English nature, but I heard in his voice how he missed his homeland. I didn't bother looking around. My thoughts were with you, only.

I'd imagined you sitting there, eating. With Charlotte at the same table. I grew furious for some reasons, which Papà noticed. "What is that, Aurora?"

"Nothing."

"You have one of your Aurora problems again?" He laughed, gave me a pat on the head. "How does one solve a problem like Aurora's..."

I couldn't help but laugh at that, but it faded soon after. "When you met Mamma, how were you sure you were going to see her after wherever you had met her?"

"Oh, Mamma, I met her at the restaurant I worked at. She came over more often." Papà smiled at the memory. "I didn't have to try, Principessa. She tried for me."

Great. No use with that information.

"Principessa, if the boy really likes you, they will find a way. Trust me. God will give them a little push against their bottoms. If it's meant to be, it will work out. If not, then not." He shrugged, reached for the pignoli, Italian cookie, in the pocket of his jacket. We ate them silently. He glanced at me. "Oh, Aurora, come on. Who is it."

"You know that."

"Oh, amore, I know." He grinned. "He stared at you. Has been since the first day. Amore. You're just a child."

"I'm seventeen!" I defended. "Papà, you and Mamma were so young, too."

"Times have changed."

I grumbled. We came back not much later. Some guys were playing football. Others were playing Uno. A few were swimming. I noticed you sitting at the lake with a book in your hands. Your hair were damp from the shower you'd just had. My feelings made me feel confused.

The next morning, we would leave and then without me fully understanding it, I grew anxious, wondering if I'd ever see you again after the trip. I had started to grow a rather big interest in you, yes, in just a few days. So, I walked over to you, interrupted your reading and asked. When will I see you?

"I'll see you in the morning, Aurora."

"I hope you mean me, and not just dawn." I answered.

"Well, I do hope to see dawn, otherwise something would be wrong with either me or the earth. But yeah, you, Aurora.. You."

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Aurora, I love her. What do you think of her character?

Zev? Do you think whatever happened in life, has changed him?

The way they met??

Let me know your thoughts! Votes, comments, shares whatsoever are very much appreciated ❤️