I tried to brush it off, but everyone at the table was smiling, and I was suddenly struck by a strange joy and grief that twisted within me. I’d never experience a dance with my father, or him walking me down the aisle at my wedding. My kids would have no Pop Pop. I’d never had a chance to love a father because Mom had taken the option away. And, yes, it was probably selfish, because there were never guarantees of getting a decent dad, but I felt strangely bereft, as if the emptiness that was always inside me needing to be filled would never be satisfied. I’d never have a father who’d share in all my firsts, so it’d been with a waiter who was kind, but a stranger.

I excused myself to the bathroom. I desperately needed a few moments alone to process.

This trip was bringing up things I rarely let myself think of, but I had a premonition more was to come.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Francesca

The iconic Colosseum rose before me with an arrogance and power that stole my breath. The broken stone and rubbled pathways only added to the mighty glory of a structure that had once been witness to bloody battles, destruction, and death.

The only thing that ruined the experience was the group of fake gladiators lingering around the entrance, urging tourists to take pictures with them. They were the same kind of people as those in Times Square who dressed in tattered Elmo and Batman costumes, luring children to pose with them, only to spring the fee of a ten-dollar bill for the privilege. Enzo waved them away when they approached, but Kai begged for a picture.

Hana and I sighed in motherly commiseration, and I didn’t blame her for surrendering. The boy practically shook with excitement as he squeezed in the middle of the fake gladiators and raised two skinny biceps, growling at the camera. Allegra laughed, but we all agreed sometimes you just needed to be a patsy and give in. It was probably worth the ten euros for his joy.

Enzo passed us off to a new tour guide, and we snaked through corridors, which offered brief shade in the choking heat. It was only ten a.m. and my T-shirt was damp with perspiration. When we stepped out into the main center and gazed at the floor that had contained the slaves and lions, a shiver bumped down my spine. The stands would have held only men, rabid for the blood sport of watching men fight for their lives in front of thousands of screaming fans. The soft blue sky and fluffy clouds seemed to mock the past savagery they cloaked from above.