I’ve never seen a more beautiful city than Rome, Italy. It was definitely a city of God. The architecture, the sheer number of churches, a city of art. That’s what it was, a city full of art. Not one inch within its walls was untouched by a magnificent artist it seemed.
“It’s incredible,” Tom said, grabbing my hand after we completed a traditional coin toss into the Trevi Fountain, superstitiously ensuring a return trip to Rome. We saved the fountain for last since our hotel was right down the street.
We’d already visited Vatican City, numerous churches and many monuments. We weren’t set to see The Great Remember until the following night. We thought about partying it up a little but, to be honest, we were worn out from the traveling and always being "on." We agreed to sleep in a little the next day as we rarely got to but not too late as we wanted to sightsee a little more.
“I want to take you on a proper date.”
“Really?”
“Yes. American style. Dinner. Movie. Make out session.”
“I’m down, Bobby Brown. What shall we eat?”
“Italian?”
“Very funny. And the film?”
“See, this is good. I think it’s against an in-love law or something that we don't know what movies each other digs.”
“All right, hold on?”
He nodded.
I found a man walking by and approached him. “Mi scusi, dove trovo un cinema?”
“A due isolati sulla destra”
“Grazie,” I told the man.
He nodded and walked away with a polite, “Prego.”
An inadvertent yelp came from me as I was swept off my feet and spun around. “You make me hot when you do that,” Tom spoke into my ear.
I kissed him softly as he set me on my feet again. “Sei il grande amore della mia vita,” I whispered into his lips.
He kissed me deeper. “And what does that mean?”
“Nothing. Come on, it’s two blocks down.”
As we walked to the theater, I started singing a Georgia Asher song we heard days before but stuck with us and to my utter surprise, Tom joined in harmony and we sounded unbelievably good together. His voice was rich and deep and perfect for harmony, which made sense to me knowing he played bass for The Ivories. When we were done, I looked over at him in awe.
“God you’re talented, Tom.”
“I am not.”
“Yes, you really are.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I’m serious, Tom. You are talented as shit.”
“This coming from one of the best pianists I’ve ever seen live.” He paused. “Actually, that does kinda make me feel like a hoss, coming from you. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, blushing from his compliment.
The theater looked more like a ballroom than a movie cinema but that was Rome for you. I translated all the titles for him. It seemed they played oldies but goodies, and we had a choice between Alien, Back to the Future, Indiana Jones: The Temple of Doom, and three Italian flicks. Seeming as I would be the only one who could understand the Italian films, we opted for the American/Italian subtitled.
“So which one?” I asked.