Short Term Affair

I had been travelling around Italy for about ten days so far. This was the first trip I had ever been on that was both for work and play. I was single and I was eating pizza every day in my home country. I was also travelling with my grandmother. We would spend most of our evenings together, however sometimes she stayed in our apartment and I would cafe hop the city drinking spritz. Needless to say, I felt good.

After a blissful few days along the Amalfi Coast it was time we took a ferry to Napoli to in turn get on a boat that would take us to Palermo, Sicily, my grandmother's home town. I had been advised by family to instead take a train along the coast of Italy to get to Sicily, rather then a boat. But I was actually looking forward to getting out into the middle of the Tyrrhenian Sea and to stare up at the stars.

The boat was decently sized and just about filled to capacity. Our cabin fit one bunk bend and had just enough room for our luggage and a tiny bathroom. We drank some homemade limoncello and then decided to head up to the deck to watch the ship pull away from the shore. The sun was setting and we waved goodbye to Napoli; it was our last leg of our journey but probably the most important.

Soon it was dinner time, cafeteria style. We ate semi-decent lasagna and then went to the entertainment room to watch an Italian soap opera. I didn't understand a word and was looking for a reason to look at the stars. I excused myself, grabbed my travel journal from our room, and went to stern of the boat at the highest level deck I could find.

There was a man with his child, but they quickly left and I was alone. After a few notes, I closed my journal and went to the railing to look at the crashing waves down belowt. At this point it was pitch black and the stars were stunning. The wind was crisp and my heart was full.

What happened next I've always referred to as a 'Titanic moment'. I looked behind me and a tall man in a white uniform comes walking up the stairs. I can tell he immediately noticed me. I turned away to look back at the sea but soon looked behind me again to see where he had gone. He was still looking at me but this time in the centre of the deck.

A few moments later he walked up right beside me, pulled out a cigarette and asked me if I had a lighter. No, I don't smoke, I apologized. He then asked me if I'd like to join him on a bench that was no more then two feet away from us. Sure, I said.

Within minutes he was inching closer to me with his arm around my back resting on the bench. A few more later and he was holding my hand. Oh, those Italians. I giggled the entire time between me saying 'What is happening right now?' and 'This is so funny' and him not understanding why it is 'funny' through his broken English. He pointed out certain constellations of stars and explained to me his job as a mechanic on the ship. He kept calling me beautiful. And then his face was in my face, and we kissed.

Soon he was inviting me back to his room so that he could grab his Italian-English translation book to better help our conversation along. I politely declined saying that my grandmother did not know where I was. He was persistent, the next time pointing out that it was cold and our conversation would be more comfortable indoors. Honestly, I thought 'Fuck it. This is an amazing story'. I told him I had to go back to my room to tell my grandmother where I was. By this time it was close to midnight and I had been gone for almost two hours. We agreed to meet back in 15 minutes at the same spot.

Walking through those empty halls on the boat, as everyone was tucked into bed ready to get off the ship first thing in the morning, was a feeling I'll never forget. Adrenaline. Excitement. The first thing I told my grandmother when I came into the room was 'Nonna, I met someone. I'm going to meet him again.' She was excited for me. After all, we had been trying to find a young Italian with his single grandfather the whole trip.

We met as planned. He took my hand and led me down a few flights of stairs on the deck and into the ship. We walked into the staff corridors where he turned around, put a finger over his lips which told me to keep quiet. All I was thinking of was what a whirlwind this was. His room was large with a double bed and a TV that he turned on. There wasn't much to say so we let our lips do the talking.

The passion was very strong, despite not sleeping together. Eventually I had to excuse myself since it was closer to 3 am and his shift started in an hour. I put my clothes back on and he walked me to the elevator. We stood facing each other hand in hand wondering what to do next. We kissed passionately. I got into the elevator where we kissed again, and I watched the door close. I was again hit with a wave of 'What just happened' and 'Will I ever see him again?'. Am I okay with that?

The next morning I woke up and within 15 minutes we had to leave the ship. I couldn't help but wonder if he was still working. If he would surprise me to say another goodbye. We sat on a curb just outside the ship waiting for my great aunt to pick us up while I started feeling like I missed him. I was now daydreaming he'd run off the ship and we would embrace. How could I do this, I had only just met him?

Missed Connection, Friday July 17, 246 am:

hey,

i was there on a bench in the sun for a couple of hours with a girl that

afternoon. we were both reading/observing some guy walking a tightrope between

the trees. I left to get a coffee shortly after she was approached by some guy,

but before I did she moved to the picnic table across the path from our bench.

Was this you?

Me, Friday July 17, 1205 pm:

What made you go on craigslist and find something like this? Do you do this often and did you find this only last night?

Missed Connection, Friday July 17, 618 pm:

i don't do this often. in fact, i've never posted or responded to a missed

connections post before. i've been perusing craiglist a lot lately looking for

a new bike, and sometimes read the missed connections for fun. i saw your post

shortly after you put it up, but hesitated to respond because I had never done

it before/figured it probably wasn't me you were referring to. curiosity

eventually got the better of me. anyway, if I was your bench guy, it was nice

It was one of those beautiful summer days in 2009, the last official summer of my undergrad, where waking up on a Tuesday morning meant the only responsibility I had was eating, bathing, and meeting up with some friends later that night for drinks. My best friend was spending the week on my couch, because... why not. The city was on strike so I was out of a job. She went off to work. The only thing that made sense to me was to listen to some great music and go explore the city. I put on my (then) favourite playlist, a punk mix I titled "sick shit", and throw on something that made me feel great. Black short overalls, a tight white top, and my favourite neon yellow sandals; I was out the door with a book and only good things in mind. 

I ended up at Trinity Bellwoods. It would be a year before I started to create some new memories in this park, but for the first time ever I felt like I was young and alive and surrounded by a city that started to affect me in ways I've never experienced. I was independent and I was making my own choices. I carefully picked a bench sitting directly off a paved path under the trees. Every moment was planned. I knew what I was doing, and yet... I didn't know for certain.

I would read one paragraph, no, maybe one sentence and stop. I couldn't peel my eyes off what was around me. People talking, fitness everywhere, distant laughs. Myself, looking around, letting my mind wander. Trying to figure out my place, really. At that time I had just gotten out of a bad relationship. A relationship where my very definition of love altered. But that week and specifically that day all of a sudden I was filled with a new air and was ready to absorb.

I was sitting on the far right of the bench, as close as I could to the arm rest both fully using it as something to lean against and an as open invitation, out of will, for someone to sit beside me. It was soon after that I noticed the boy on the bench to my left. A large tree made it difficult and yet easier to keep tabs on him. He was also alone, with a kick stand and a book. Now I was splitting my time pretending to read, watching the tight rope walker set up, glancing over at this mythical dark haired boy in plaid, looking at the trees -- and repeat. 

I don't even remember how many hours we sat there, independently in silence on our benches. We were chasing glances just as much as we were literally chasing sunlight. The shade was starting to get cold, and I wanted to dance with him. I picked up all of my belongings and moved to the picnic table on the other side of the path. It was in the sun, and if this means anything, the picnic table what the third point that would make up a theoretical triangle between it and our two benches. 

He knew. I could feel his eyes on me and I knew when he was reading he could feel mine. As I sat willing him to speak with me, a young and less in tune kind of guy walked right over to me and asked me for a lighter. I'm a non-smoker who just happens to have one. He lit his cigarette and stayed, initially starting a conversation about the usual, but mostly he wanted to hear himself speak. Which is fine... I'm not afraid to listen when someone needs/ wants to be heard. He gets a phone call just as I notice the boy on the bench change. He's getting ready to leave. And then he rides away.

For a second I sort of snap out of whatever this Seurat painting-esque situation was, and I remember why I'm really here. There's a performance by Yoshinori Niwa and I came because I wanted to be apart of it.

I don't remember if it was that night, or perhaps the following day seeing as I would of likely had to come up with an ever better idea of how to top this day, I wrote a missed connections ad on craigslist. This whole world was a world I've barely even casually browsed let alone taken part of. But I wrote one, very elusively, knowing that the key to the puzzle was his mention of the guy on the tight rope.