Page 101 of The Slug Crystal
"Thank you," I manage, looking up to find not just Jake's eyes on me, but all four men watching with different expressions of the same concern.
The waiter approaches cautiously, probably wondering if he should call for psychiatric assistance. Instead, he simply offers, "Perhaps some dessert, signora? The tiramisu is excellent for... difficult evenings."
This time, my laugh is genuine. "Tiramisu sounds perfect," I tell him. "We'll take five."
"And a small one for the snail?" he asks with a perfectly straight face, though his eyes twinkle with gentle humor.
"I think he's had enough for one night," I reply, trying to ignore the slight tightening in my chest.
“As you wish,” he replies, offering a small tip of his lips before walking back to the kitchen.
Thursday, 8:20PM. Back at the hotel, the five of us linger in the sitting area of the suite. As soon as we returned, Jake tucked Alex into his room. Like he was taking the idea of out of sight out of mind very seriously. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Alex was almost constantly a worry of mine at this point, even if I couldn’t see him. I didn’t want to spoil his thoughtfulness.
The air conditioning hums softly beneath our voices as we gather to plan our next move, the evening's restaurant drama still hanging over us like a cloud. I fiddle with my phone, trying to get it to connect to the Wi-Fi, wanting to avoid the looming conversation as long as possible.
"We need to consider our options," Marco says, standing by the window with his tablet in hand, his scholarly silhouette backlit by the city lights. "The crystal shop was our most promising lead. Without further direction..." He trails off, adjusting his glasses in that way he does when uncomfortable with his conclusions.
"What Marco's trying to say," Ben translates from his sprawl in the room's only armchair, "is that we're completely screwed. Again."
Luca glances at me quickly, then glares at Ben, pausing his pacing between the door and the bathroom, his restless energy confined to the limited floor space. "We're not screwed. We're just... recalibrating."
"It feels a lot like hitting a wall. Again,” I admit.
Jake’s eyes find mine with the steady compassion that's become my touchstone through this bizarre journey. "It's okay to be frustrated, Emma. No one expected this to be as difficult as it has been."
Marco clears his throat, his academic detachment slipping into place like armor. "I believe we need to reconsider our approach. Perhaps another short respite from the active pursuit would be beneficial." He glances around the room, gauging reactions. "A period of reflection might yield insights we're currently missing due to stress and fatigue."
"Are you suggesting we give up?" I ask, a sharp edge creeping into my voice.
"Not at all," Marco replies quickly. "I'm suggesting a strategic pause. Sometimes the solution becomes apparent only when we step back from the problem."
“Didn’t we already step back in Rome?” I ask.
“That was barely a pause. We were still searching for leads, and left immediately as soon as we found one. We could all use a couple days off,” Jake responds, and for the first time, I look closely at him and notice a layer of fatigue he’s been hiding.
Luca stops his pacing, leaning against the wall with calculated casualness that doesn't quite mask his excitement. "I actually have an idea about that. A family friend that owes me a favor has a villa about thirty kilometers outside Milan. Nestled in the hills, very private." His gray eyes light up as he warms to his pitch. "We could regroup there for a few days, away from hotel costs and city noise. There's a local town nearby with excellent restaurants, a few shops that might be fun to explore..."
"Another Bianchi family connection to another villa," Ben drawls, though there's less bite in his sarcasm than usual. "How many properties does your side of the family have a connection to, exactly?"
Luca shrugs, a smile playing at his lips. "Enough that I can always offer a solution to our accommodations problem. In Italy, at least."
As they discuss logistics, how to get there, and what supplies we'd need, my attention drifts back to Alex. Not being able to see him helps a little. Without the snail to check on, my eyes drift over to the window as an appreciation for Jake flutters through me. He has always been this way, attending to details others might overlook, his thoughtfulness expressed through action rather than words.
Eventually my eyes start to feel heavy, and I drift to sleep.
Thursday, 10:10PM. Ben wakes me with a gentle shake to the shoulder. My eyes flutter open, and I realize I’m still in the sitting area, fast asleep with a white blanket from one of the rooms draped over me.
Ben offers a soft smile and says, “Hey, I didn’t want to wake you, but we thought you might want to sleep in a bed.”
I glance past him to find Luca, Marco, and Jake lurking nearby, watching Ben wake me up.
“I thought…” Jake starts, then clears his throat. “Thought you might want to say goodnight to Alex?” He sounds nervous as he lifts the terrarium higher and steps towards me, bringing it closer to me. He’s probably scared I’m going to start crying again.
I lean closer to the glass enclosure, frowning as I study its blue occupant. "Does Alex look... bigger to you?" I ask.
Jake pauses, bending to examine the terrarium. "Hmm?"
"Alex," I repeat, pointing to the snail now making his way up the side of the glass. "I think he's getting bigger. Look at how his shell barely fits between these two leaves. Last week, he could slide through easily."
