Page 35 of Livia in Rome
Ren pokes a finger into my ribs. ‘Easier to talk to? Or easier to look at?’
‘Vi prego, enough!’ I beg.
Sofia grins. ‘Just trying to understand if Giulio’s one of us now.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ I say. ‘It’s more because...’ I take a deep breath and tell my friends everything they’ve missed: Nina trying to convince Giulio to spy on Ma, the mountain of debt we have a week to pay back, and how we might lose the bar just when I’m finally –finally– starting to feel like I belong.
The shock doesn’t leave their faces. Ugh! I’ve totally killed the mood.
‘What about you, Ren? How was the tour?’ I’m counting on his love of food to lighten the mood, buthe doesn’t take the bait.
‘It was great. We took loads of photos. But, Livia, we should talk about your situation.’
I turn to Kenzi to ask about her weekend, but she stops me just as I take a breath.
‘I helped Mehdi with his citizenship paperwork. Now, back to you. What are you going to do about the bar?’
I rest my head in my hands. ‘It’s...complicated. The debts are worse than I thought. Giulio’s even thinking about selling his Vespa to help cover it. And Ma doesn’t know a thing.’
Sofia bites her lip. ‘But the bar’s been busier, no?’
‘Sì,’ I nod. ‘Giulio says it’s not enough to impress the bank, but...I don’t know.’
Kenzi’s eyes light up with an idea. ‘Then let’s make it enough. What if we open up the language swap to more people?’
‘Who would come? How do we get more people interested?’ I ask.
Sofia waves her phone. ‘I could mention it on my travel blog and social media feeds. My followers would love it, especially if they get free conversation practice.’
‘I could make snacks,’ Ren says. ‘Everyone loves free food, right?’
‘I suppose . . .’ I start, but Kenzi’s nodding.
‘We’re already doing it . . . we just need to go—’
‘Bigger!’ I finish, a stirring of hope warming my insides for the first time in days. ‘We could make it a regular thing...’
My heart races. This could actually work.
My new friends are actual legends. Knowing how desperate the situation has become, they pulled out all the stops to get our new open-to-all language swap up and running the very next day. We’ve barely finished setting up, and there’s already a steady trickle of people coming into the bar.
Giulio wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea, but since he’s already admitted the bar needs more than just a busy Sunday to survive, he hasn’t stood in our way. He is, however, standing at the counter with his arms folded and eyes narrowed, watching Ren move around the tables with a platter of bite-sized seaweed parmesan gougères – French cheese puffs made with Japanese nori and Italian parmesan.
‘You forgot to put something English, Portuguese and Arabic into the mix, too.’
There’s an unmistakable challenge in Giulio’s voice as he points to thesixlanguage tables we’ve set up around the bar. But that only reminds me how proud I am that the four of us have come up with sixlanguages between us. For once, it feels like we have something to offer instead of something to make up for.
It’s Sofia’s efforts that have drawn in the crowd, though. She’s been posting regular updates on her blog and social media, and Kenzi made flyers using the language school’s computers and photocopier, thanks to Mas-si turning a blind eye.
Ma’s reaction has been harder to read. She hasn’t said much at all, which is SO unlike her. It makes me wonder if, deep down, she’d prefer it if the bar closed and forced Nina into retirement. Or maybe she’s worried about how Nina will cope if things do get busier. Maybe it’s both, because she definitely looked torn. And, well, I’m too nervous to ask her and find out.
It’s a while before I have time to check in with Giulio.
I raise one eyebrow –What do you think?
He quirks one in return –Not sure. Could work.
I respond with a slight frown and a head tilt –Is it enough, though?
