Page 79 of Prosecco with My Professor
“That doesn’t make it any better.”
Shonda shrugged. “How about this: you might never see him again.”
My heart clenches. That is true. Santo would move out because why would he stay in his apartment if he wasn’t working for the university? He has his villa, he has Bell, and I am surprised he hasn’t left already.
Before, when I thought about how I was leaving for my internship, I always knew I’d see Santo when I came back for the fall term and commencement. Now he won’t be here.
I don’t have to say anything; Shonda gives me a look of sympathy. “Sorry, girl.”
We order another round, and I get Shonda talking about her first week at her internship. It is nice to hear about something going right, and I try to be a good friend and listen. After we drain our second glasses, we part ways, and I trudge back home.
It had been a sunny day, the kind that heralds spring, though still chilly. The sun had set while I had drinks with Shonda, though it was still early for dinner, at least in Italy.
At home, I shed my coat and checked my phone. There was discussion in my group chat with my friends about planning our next weekend together. Jade had been given a new work assignment that had her traveling, plus with Sara bouncing between Austin and London and Tessa frequently traveling from the Algarve to Paris, seeing each other once a month wasn’t sounding so feasible anymore. And yet we hadn’t canceled a weekend until my school fiasco.
That made me feel guilty too.
I am scrolling through the messages when Oliver barks next door.
I freeze, listening.
“Taci!” Eva shouts, and after a few more barks, Oliver simmers down.
I finally catch up—the front-running plan is for us to go to London—and type out a message—I’ll have to see what the career center says tomorrow. I don’t think I can commit to anything right now.—when Oliver barks again.
I spin in my seat, facing the wall between Eva’s apartment and mine. Is Santo pleasuring himself? Oh my god, does he have a woman over?
I put my face in my hands, tears forming in my eyes. If I couldn’t find an internship outside of Rome, or if I had to take a research position, was this what life was going to be like? Even if I did move, was a dog barking ever going to not make me think of Santo?
Oliver quiets. I put on some music and tried to think of anything other than what might be going on two doors down. I open my fridge and survey the contents, debating about what to cook for dinner. Nothing sounds good, so I close the fridge and open the pantry. I have some crackers and salami, which makes me think of dining in the kitchen of Santo’s villa. I slam that door closed.
Oliver barks again. I can hear it, even over my music.
“Goddamnit Oliver!”
I stomp toward my door, anger and frustration driving me, though I’m not sure if I am going to yell at Eva or Santo.
I throw open the door and ameowgreets me. I stare down at Zola, who blinks up and purrs.
When I make no move, she raises one paw, batting at the air, andmeowsagain. When I bend down, she sits back on her haunches and lets me pick her up under her arms, pulling her into a cradle against my chest.
“Hi, Miss Zola,” I say, tears clogging my throat. “What are you doing out here?” I glance at Santo’s door, and there’s a bottle of wine on the floor in front of it. I walk over and pick it up. It’s a Prosecco, of course. When I stand, I notice there are envelopes taped to the door. Five envelopes, and they all have my name on the front in Santo’s blocky handwriting.
I bend over to put the wine bottle down again, freeing up a hand to pull an envelope off the door. It’s not sealed, so with Zola in the crook of my arm, I’m able to use both hands to open it. Zola ignores me jostling her around.
The envelope falls to the floor as I pull the two sheets of folded paper out. The top page is a bio printed off Sothebys’ website. There’s a blonde woman’s headshot, and the text at the top reads:
Danette Lévesque
Senior Vice President, London
There are a few paragraphs detailing her background and highlighted is the part saying that Danette has an MBA from my university. Beneath that is a handwritten note from Santo.
Worked with me on Procurement research.
The second page is a printout of a job description for a three-month finance internship in Sothebys’ London office.
I let the paper fall to the ground and pluck another envelope off the door. A student from two years ago who, like me, had Santo for a business fundamentals professor and now worked at Patek Philippe, the watch company, and an opening for a supply chain internship in Zurich. The next was merchandising at Mercedes’ F1 team. Then a perfumer in Paris and a hotel chain based in Edinburgh.
