The morning after

   The moment I opened my eyes, I had to closet them shut again. The ray of light falling on the bed ignited an instant headache. Besides, the amount of alcohol I had consumed the night before was piercing through my brain. Both pains made me stay there for a while, until I realized I was not at home. It was strange to notice it by just smelling the covers in the bed, but that was the thing that really made me wake up. I was completely naked on that large bed, in a very beautiful room that seemed particularly spacious.

 I got out of bed and walked towards the window. I was in an apartment building, probably in the seventh floor or so. I could see a park right in front of me: some people were walking the dog and others their babies. The sun was up there, in the sky, shining brightly with only a few clouds covering its warmth. It was probably around midday. Then, I realized I hadn’t gotten home. Walter, my cat, would be begging for food. I had completely forgotten about him the night before, because of the alcohol.

 I turned around and looked for my things: I found my cellphone on the floor, near the bed. But I couldn’t really see my clothes. I entered the bathroom and it was very big, the size of my room in my apartment. My clothes were nicely folded on the counter, just besides the sink. I took that as a sign to wash my face. Cold water felt amazing on my skin, it really help woke me up for good. I realized I had some breakouts on my face, no idea how the hell I had gotten someone to take me to their place looking like that.

 Then I realized, rather slowly, than someone had actually been there with me. I checked the garbage bin in the bathroom and, sure enough, there were two condom wrappers. I felt kind of bad in that moment but also good because even in that state I had been careful enough to protect myself. That was something. Now, I had to put on my clothes and walk the famed walk of shame towards my home. I really wanted the man I had been with to be out at that moment, I had no intention of talking to him.

 As I put on my underwear and my socks, I tried to remember what I had done the night before. I had met a friend in a restaurant and from there we had gone to a party filled with people. So many people, that I had felt I needed some booze in order to properly socialize. I have never been the kind to be great at communicating, so I know I had drunk some vodka or something. The party must’ve worked like a charm for me because I had woken up in a very nice place the next morning. I had no idea what I had done after I started drinking. No idea at all, which wasn’t a good thing.

 When I was fully dressed, I checked my jacket to see if my wallet and my keys were there. And they were. I also found some mints, which I must’ve grabbed from the restaurant. I didn’t really want to get out of that room, but it was necessary in order to get home. I had to find the main entrance fast and just run out of there, whatever happened. Walking towards the bedroom door, I heard something that paralyzed right there on the spot: someone was whistling very nearby, probably in the same apartment.

 I doubted for a moment but then I just opened the door and walked fast, looking around me: there was a small corridor with paintings all around and then the living room. There was no one there and the entrance was probably very near. I was looking for a door as I passed the dining room but then I realized there wasn’t a main door but an elevator. I pressed the button, all the while thinking that the rent for such a place was probably something I would never be able to pay in this life or the next.

 Then, another noise: the elevator rang a bell as it arrived. Just when the doors opened, a man appeared from the other side of the dining room. His hair was all over the place and he was wearing an apron with cartoons drawn on it. I noticed right away that he wasn’t wearing any else beneath the apron. The elevator doors closed again, as I hadn’t gotten inside. I was paralyzed looking at him, as he walked closer and asked me if I was already leaving. I felt, once again, like a complete piece of shit. I wanted to sink on the ground.

 I have to say that he was a very nice looking guy. He wasn’t a top model or anything but his body looked pretty decent behind that silly apron, and his hair was very cute as it was. What got me, almost surprised me, were his eyes. He had beautiful honey colored eyes. They seemed like the kind that change colors depending on how the person feels. For a moment, I forgot at what he had told me because of those beautiful eyes. How could I not remember them from the night before? How could that even happen?

He smiled and asked again. I told him I had to leave because my cat was probably hungry and I really needed to get to him. He smiled again and asked me to have something to eat before I left. At first, I told him I couldn’t but he insisted and I just couldn’t say no to those beautiful eyes. So I followed him to the kitchen, were he told me he understood my hurry. He whistled again, but in a different way, and out of nowhere a cat, white as snow, jump out and started doing turns around his legs. The animal looked at me with a certain curiosity, but didn’t get near me immediately.

The guy asked me to sit down on a high stool on the bar the kitchen had. I did, trying to conceal the fact that I had no idea who he was, his name, profession or, really, anything about him. Remembering was not really something I could do and even if I tried, my headache would grow in size. He then put a glass of tomato juice in front of me, saying it was very good for hangovers. I smiled at him and drank some. I had been a little bit too innocent thinking he had no idea I was severely drunk the night before.

 The juice was delicious and then he served pancakes with lots of syrup and strawberries. I hadn’t eaten pancakes in a long time, as I never really had time in the morning to do such a simple thing. And the days I did have the time, I would just spent that time sleeping, trying to feel rested. As I ate, he spoke about cooking and I just stared, ate and nodded. I couldn’t really do anything else because I still had no idea who he was, what kind of person he was and what kind of person he thought I was.

 Had I been a very honest drunkard, telling him every single thing there was to know about me? Or had I been the type of drunken idiot that comes up with an alternate lifestyle out of nowhere in order to seem more interesting? He had stopped talking and apparently I was doing some funny face because he smiled again and told me it was a shame that I probably didn’t remember him. Right then, I laughed loudly. I just couldn’t help but feel relieved and the way to let it all out was laughing like a crazy person.

 I confessed I had no recollection of the night before and that I felt really bad about it. I was about to say a bunch of meaningless things, in order to make him feel a little better, but he interrupted me and said that he was very happy to have met me anyway, as he hadn’t met anyone so good looking and great in bed as me in a long time. I laughed loudly again, but he just looked at me, no smile or anything in his face. He had meant every word. I stopped and blushed like a high school girl. I felt so stupid.

 I finished my pancakes and told him I really had to leave. He asked if he could take me home but I decided against it because I needed to buy some things before getting home. After all, I had run out of cat food and I had just realized that. He smiled and asked if he could hug me goodbye. I said yes.

 You know what’s weird? I felt that hug in my soul. It made me warmer. I felt better after it and realized he was a really nice person. I pressed the elevator button again. I got in and right before the doors closed, I asked him his name. He smiled and winked at me, waving his phone at me. Right then, I got a message on my phone and the doors closed.

Broken camera in Rome

   I woke up very early, to the sound of m cellphone alarm. It was still a bit dark but I knew I had too take advantage of every single hour if I was to spend the whole day in the city of Rome. I entered the shower, thinking about how strange it was to wake up early in a holiday but that after all it was the best reason to do it. I didn’t take very long, dressing up pretty quickly and then grabbing my bag, where I kept everything I needed to walk around. I would leave my backpack, which was my only luggage, in the room until the next day when I had to leave the city.

 My real holiday had been spent in Greece, where I had been laying in the sun for almost a week. But I had decided to go back home via Rome so to have one day of sightseeing around the city. In Greece I had also walked around a lot, visited museums, gone to the beach, taken hundreds of pictures and getting to know one or two Greek men. Yes, I had a very good time in that country.

 I went down to the hotel restaurant and realized an hour had already passed since I had woken up. As I helped myself to orange juice and cereal, I noticed only another table was occupied at that time by an elderly couple. Every other person, especially families, woke up late during the holidays which would have been great but I wanted to have the option to visit as many places as possible. As I ate, I checked a small schedule I had created with things I could do: museums were ruled out as they usually take a long time to go through. But I couldn’t avoid going to the Colosseum and to the Forum as they were symbols of the city and walking them wasn’t that time consuming.

 After lunch I decided to go there first, as it was the farthest place on the schedule. I would begin to walk from there closer to the hotel, in order to get there late to have some hours of sleep and then leave early in the morning for home. The metro station was not very far so it was in a matter of minutes that I arrived to the Colosseum. The place was very majestic, although some of the walls were covered as they were being repaired. There were men dressed as ancient roman soldiers all around and a lot of tourists, even that early. The place had a weird vibe, as if it was palpable that people had died there. On the highest part, I took several pictures and realized more and more people were entering. After some more minutes, I crossed a small piazza towards the Forum. The entrance fee covered both sites so it was perfect.

 Various temples still stand, very large structures and the general layout of the site is magnificent. It was there when I noticed two things: there were lots of tourists in the city and the temperature was rising fast. After all, it was the middle of summer. Silly me, I hadn’t brought a water bottle with me and I already started to feel a bit lightheaded. I went on walking; trying to “shake it off”, but it wasn’t that easy. Finally, a sign saved my life when I realized there were water fountains all around the premises, in order for people to fill their bottles or drink directly. Apparently the city had one of the purest water in the continent.

 I didn’t walk all around because some areas were only trees and some ruins. I took pictures and then moved on. The Circus area was a disappointing place, more like an undeveloped terrain than anything else. Across that stretch of land, which was pretty big, I made the line to put my hand in the Mouth of truth, a whole in a marble image that people used to think was good to use as a lie detector. I then walked through the streets to finally reach the Piazza Venezia where there was a large statue of Victor Emanuele, the man who united Italy and made it a republic. I only took pictures from the outside and it was here my luck had run out.

 My camera had stopped working. It wouldn’t turn on so I decided to walk towards a small square in front a church and sit there to check it properly. This would have taken a lot of my time and I had no time to lose. But that was visible not important to an unanimated object that wouldn’t work. I took the battery out, the memory card, I shook it and even yelled at it but it just wouldn’t work. As I did that, someone came closer to me and said something in Italian I didn’t understand. It was a man, maybe in his thirties, who was extending his hand to me. For a moment, I felt scared, but then I realized that if the camera was broken, there was really no harm in giving it away.

 The man took it in his hands and checked it all around. I, for one, was looking at him. Italian men were very into the facial hair thing and always very lean, not muscular or fat but rather nice complexions. The man didn’t seem to notice my eyesight going all over him as he tried to ask me something in his language. I tried to understand, breaking it up buy words. I recognized the word “help” and the word “camera”. I nodded, looking a bit stupid, and then he stretch out his arm to me and I grab it, clumsily again. He started talking and walking and I just followed him. I realized I was losing time but I felt I couldn’t just be rude to him.

 He talked every step of the way. I just nodded and smiled, thinking how stupid I must look doing that like a robot. After a few blocks from the square, he pulled out some keys and entered and old building. Inside, it was beautiful. The place was full of lowers and everything was very clean and taken care off. A cat slept on a corner and barely looked at us as we passed. I followed the men up some stairs and to, what I presumed, was his apartment. It felt really cool at this time of day. He offered me a chair and then started to check my camera on a table with a big lens and a lot of different tools and gadgets I had never seen but would attribute to an engineer or a mechanic or something like that.

 He had stopped talking and was very concentrated in the camera. He opened one side and started moving things around. I nervously took out my cellphone and realized time was passing fast. I needed to head to the Trevi Fountain if I wanted to visit every place I had put on my list. Uneasy, I stood up and tried to say something but couldn’t think of the words. Anyway, it wasn’t necessary. He turned around, put a hand around my wait for me to get closer and explained slowly what he had done. Funny enough, I understood it all. The camera was working again and I could keep taking pictures. I took out my wallet to pay him for his troubles he grabbed it and put it back in my bag.

 So he didn’t wanted pay. I asked again but he kept nodding his head negatively so I stopped talking and just stood there like an idiot. Then I remembered my schedule and decided to just shake his hand and be on my way. As I turned around, he pointed at himself and said he would take me around. Yes, he spoke in my same language which was both funny and annoying, as if I had know he knew what I was saying it would have been less of a weird experience.

 We went out to the street and right enough, we went to the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, Piazza Navona and through streets he knew very well. We didn’t really talked about ourselves, not even when we decided to have lunch in the afternoon, after walking a lot. We had a delicious pizza and ice cream for desert and it was only then when I told him I was a writer and he told me he worked fixing all kinds of electronic devices. But we went on to talk about Rome and Italy and politics soon enough.

 To be honest, it had been a great day with him and I had more time to spend. So we went to the Vatican and entered Saint Peter’s basilica, which is enormous. It feels like entering a huge cavern or something like that. Pietro, as he had told me his name was, explained to me everything there was to know about the site. Funny enough, some tourists thought he was a guide and began asking him questions. He was kind enough to answer every single one of them. After that, he took me again through the streets, taking pictures of people, cafés, ice cream parlors and just about everything. The sun had already gone and I had only a couple of hours left.

 He invited me to have some wine and then we chatted again about things that were not us. About other people, my trip, his country. He was very charming and I could feel he didn’t do that often. He wasn’t a player or a very outgoing person. He was just one of those people that loves to help and that feels alone, because that I could see, as he walked me to my hotel. His eyes talked as his mouth didn’t and that was more than enough for me. When we got to the lobby, I wanted to shake his hand but he decided to hug me instead. It was a very nice hug, also speaking volumes, which his mouth was unable to express. We bid farewell and then I went up to my room.

 To this day, I regret not asking him for his number or email address or something. But I also answer myself that it probably wasn’t one of those encounters. Maybe it was meant to be a one-time thing, one of those that’s really great and lives in our memo