“Grazie.”

“Tonight you have room three, zero, seven. I am Valentina if you need anything,” she said, flirtatiously twisting the last word.

“Grazie, Valentina.”

“Grazie to you. See you later.”

Ross went to his room. He tried the television but found that it didn’t work. So instead he wrote in his journal then lay in bed. All he could think about was Eliana.

The days passed slowly for Ross, but he extended his stay for the full week. He slept in later each day, stayed up each night, his mind too filled with thoughts to sleep. When he did leave the hotel, he went to great efforts to avoid the crowds that flocked to Pisa. He traveled only by foot, walking more than ten miles a day. In his wanderings he took in a few sites, the smaller attractions that the tour buses pass over, the Tower of Hunger and the Church of St. Stefano dei Cavalieri, with its beautiful inlaid ceilings representing the deeds of the knights. He didn’t shave; he ate only one meal a day and that was taken at the hotel’s restaurant.

The one person he did talk to was Valentina, who was not only the hotel’s counter help but cook and bar-maid as well. She mostly just flirted with him. And though he felt some obligation to flirt back, his heart wasn’t in it. His heart ached. Still, the longer he was away from Rendola, the farther away it seemed to him. The more he doubted that Eliana would let him back.

It was thirty minutes past midnight, Friday. Ross was on the lobby’s couch watching a retelevised soccer game when Valentina called to him from the bar. “I’m closing up, Ross. Would you like a cappuccino?”

“No, grazie.”

She finished wiping down the coffee machine, threw the cloth into the sink and took off her apron. A few moments later she came around the bar. She sat down on the arm of the couch a few feet from Ross. She looked at the screen. “Who is winning?”

“Roma.”

“Sempre.” Always. “They won this morning too.”

Ross grinned. “That’s the game I’m watching, it’s just retelevised. You just spoiled the ending.”

“Sorry,” she said without meaning it. She slid off the arm onto the couch itself. “Would you like something to eat? You are getting too skinny.”

“No, thank you.”

“You don’t eat enough.”

“I eat enough.”

“May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you lonely?”

“Yes.”

“Anch’io,” she said wistfully. Me too. She watched the game for a while. Then she asked, “Would you like to come home with me tonight?”

Ross looked into her face. “Yes. But I better not.”

She frowned. “What are you doing here? In Pisa?”

“I came to think.”

“You came to the wrong place. No one thinks in Pisa. You are thinking about a girl?”

“How did you know?”

“What else do men think of?”

“Fair enough.”

“Maybe I can help you. Tell me about your problem.”