The Villa(6)
Months since I’ve trusted myself to have a glass of wine.
Maybe that one naturopathic doctor friend of Matt’s was right—it was just stress, my body trying to make me slow down, or at least give it more attention. Or maybe I was just allergic to Matt, and now that he’s gone, my body is slowly healing. The thought simultaneously makes me want to laugh and sob.
Regardless, I’m tired of tiptoeing through my life. “Fuck it,” I mutter, and I open a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.
Glass of wine in hand, I settle on the couch and rather than text Chess back, I call her.
“Okay, this is a direct violation of the Bestie Code,” she says when she picks up, and I smile.
“What, calling instead of texting back?”
“Yes. I’ll have you know I’ve broken up with men for less.”
“Well, since you can’t break up with me,” I tell her, settling deeper into the couch, “I decided to risk it. Besides, I know you. Whatever plan you’ve cooked up, it’ll sound better if you just say it rather than text it.”
“Right, because in a text, you’ll have time to poke holes in it and tell me just how crazy it is,” she counters, but I can hear the smile in her voice.
“Exactly,” I reply. “I’m saving you from yourself.”
She heaves a dramatic sigh. “God, I hate having someone who knows me this well. But I’m actually glad you called because you’re right. You need to hear it. Are you ready to hear it?”
“Ready and waiting.”
“What if,” she starts, drawing the words out, “you. Me. Italy.”
“Italy,” I repeat, and I can practically hear her roll her eyes.
“Don’t say it like it’s a death sentence, Em. Italy! Italy!”
“I’m familiar with the concept,” I tell her, taking another sip of wine. “I just don’t know exactly what you mean. You want us to go to Italy? When?”
“Next week.”
I almost laugh. How … completely, typically Chess.
And she must hear that in my silence, because she goes on. “I’ve already got a place. This amazing villa outside of Orvieto called Villa Aestas. You will absolutely die when you see it, Em. And I was planning on writing the whole time I was there, but you could write, too. I mean, you’re healthy again, and I haven’t seen you in forever, and when we had lunch the other day, I was like, ‘Why am I not moving heaven and earth to spend more time with one Miss Emily Sheridan?’”
She’s drunk, I think. Not too drunk, but definitely a few cocktails in. Chess always gets chatty and grandiose when she drinks.
“Admit that this is the most genius plan you’ve ever heard in your whole life,” she finishes, and now I do laugh.
“It’s pretty fucking genius, yes.”
But something is holding me back from saying yes.
For one, it’s a little embarrassing to freeload so openly off of Chess’s newfound wealth. Am I that friend, the one she’ll tell people about later?
Oh, poor Emily, you know, we’ve been friends forever, and she was going through a divorce, so I wanted to do something to cheer her up.
Thinking about that makes my stomach lurch, but then I think about Italy. Sitting in the sun, soaking up new surroundings, new people, a new language. Plus, pasta.
“It’s six weeks, Em,” Chess goes on. “Almost the whole summer. Or the good parts of summer, let’s be real. There’s a pool, there’s a gorgeous cathedral nearby.…”
It isn’t really the perks that suddenly make my heart speed up. It’s the time. Six weeks. Six entire weeks out of this house, out of this life. Six weeks to try to get my career back on track and reignite my sense of purpose.
And, let’s be honest: six weeks of glamorous photos to post on Instagram and Facebook, where Matt still follows me.
“Okay, I’m in,” I tell her, closing my eyes as I say it, and on the other end of the line, Chess cheers.
“Yes! I knew you would be. I’m gonna send you all the information about the house, and then I’ll book your ticket.”
“I can get my ticket,” I say, and I can, although it’s definitely going to push one of my credit cards to its max. But if Chess is renting us an entire house for six weeks, I don’t want her to also buy my plane ticket. I have some pride, after all.
And Chess, thank god, doesn’t fight me on it. Maybe she knows better.
“Perfect. I’m leaving in two days, so don’t make me wait too long by myself, okay?”
I don’t point out that she could’ve invited me earlier. Instead, I promise her that I’ll find a flight soon, and when I hang up the phone, my face is almost aching from how much I’m smiling.
A summer in Italy with Chess.
A chance for a hard reset, something I desperately need. Something I want.
Something I deserve.
Fwd: Reservation for Villa Aestas June 6–July 29
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Here you go! You won’t need to print out the parking pass they attached, I’ll deal with all that. But LOOK AT THIS HOUSE, EM!! You can google it and get even more pictures, it’s completely insane.
To: [email protected]