156 - Three Coins In The Fountain

She didn't pester him anymore. She just sat back and followed along. They had indeed arrived at Torino's airport, where they boarded a small commercial flight and even then, she asked no questions, not even for him to sing, but he did anyway. An hour later, they landed in Rome. 

Aside from the few times she got to work in Rome, she never had time to actually visit here, least of all with Jon. Being the beautiful spectacular city, it was. She didn't think she could stand another museum. Her feet hurt. Gravity has taken over, meaning everything was shifting down, causing her to waddle a bit more when she walked, and she was swollen. Not the ‘I gained a hundred pounds’ kind. She knew that wasn't true, because all her clothes still fit. She just felt claustrophobic wearing them. 

 

Stepping from the car, she stood close to the door to adjust and pulled on her linen maxi dress that was stuck in not so comfortable places. This style had become her newfound friend this past week, lightweight and roomy. The spaghetti strap dress allowed her to feel somewhat free, not to mention cooler. With all the blood flowing throughout her body, she started getting hot flashes.

 

 "Jon, please tell me we aren’t touring more museums. I don't think this body can take anymore." Ariana's hands moved in small circles over her belly as he rounded the car. 

 

"Cross my heart." He marked his chest with an x. "We will do some walking." He looked down at her sandal clad feet. The one thing Ariana Bongiovi, or Moretti was not, was a pretentious, materialistic snob. Give her a pair of Chuck Taylor or leather boots, and it was like giving a crack addict a fix. Actually, he'd bet almost anything she had a pair of Chuck T's in that gigantic bag of hers. His boho baby. "You good with those?"

 

"Yeah, if not, I have my Chucks with me."

 

See.  

 

Clasping their fingers together, he led her down the narrow streets till he stopped in front of a little cafe. As he held the door open for her, Ariana took a deep breath. Inhaling the delicious smells as she stepped inside. It was a quaint little cafe, with black round tables with matching chairs with vinyl red cushions. A man in his mid-thirties approached them. 

 

"Buongiorno."

 

"Morning. We are here for the tour." Jon said, shaking his extended hand. 

 

"Si, Signore e Signoria Bongiovi. I'm Nunzio. I'll be your guide today." Nunzio escorted them to an empty table and took their drink order. When he returned, he had a decaf cappuccino for her and an espresso for him, along with a tray of assorted pastries. He told them to enjoy and would be back shortly. 

 

"What kind of tour?" she asked, feeding him a bite of her cannoli. 

 

"It's called Walks of Italy. We get to experience what the local markets and eateries have to offer through our taste buds."

 

"A food tour?" She swept her thumb over his lips and kissed him. “I love you, but my waist does not.”

 

"Well…” he moved in closer, “I happen to like your waist. As a matter of fact, I like your tits and ass as well.”

 

“Tell me something I don’t know.” She replied with rolling her eyes.

 

“Uh….”

 

“Ready?” Nunzio asked.

 

“Yes.” Standing, Jon helped Ariana up. As they followed their companion for the day through the café, Jon placed a hand on the small of her back. “Saved by the bell.” he whispered, by which she jokingly elbowed him in stomach.

 

Nunzio walked through one of Italy’s largest food market, Trionfale market, allowing them to taste the freshest produce available. The same families had run some of the stalls for a hundred years. They snacked on fresh fruits, olives, eggplant parmesan, and one of the best mozzarella di bufala she’d ever tasted. From there, they headed to one of the local bakeries and got to go behind the scenes to see how they made a few of delectable treats. Ariana even got to help make some cornetto, a little horned shaped pastry she had with her coffee.

 

After a short, much needed break, they headed to La Tradizione, a delicacy shop known for its array of cheeses and meats. They nibbled on many cheeses, prosciutto, salamis, and truffle, which she realized she was not a fan of. They learned the difference between parmigiano or pecorino and all about balsamic vinegars and olive oils. Leave it to the Italians to have a story about each and every item in their culinary history. The fun started when she got to watch Jon don a white chef’s coat and hat while he learned how to make fresh pastas. She couldn’t recall ever laughing so much in her life.  

 

Ariana was grateful the next stop was the last, so she could rest her feet. Arriving at one of Rome’s liveliest piazzas, where there was a table already waiting for them. The chef soon joined them, bringing with him a bottle of red and white wine from his family's vineyard. Passing on the wine, Ariana settled for a bottle of Pellegrino and a glass of their homemade iced tea, made with orange slices.   

 

He talked about the differences in Italian cuisines in Italy versus back home. Why a genuine wood pizza oven is the only way to cook authentic Italian pizza. When he finished explaining, he escorted them into his kitchen and into the walk-in refrigerator. He told them to pick out a few of the fresh ingredients he picked up each morning before coming to work, ones they would like on their pizza. From there he gave them each an apron and escorted over to the long butchers-block table off to the side of the kitchen. On the table there was flour, two balls of dough, olive oil, and cheese. Following his careful instructions, he taught them both how to knead the dough into a thin circle, in which they then placed their desired condiments before putting them in the oven.

 

Once back at the table, she took his hand in hers and kissed it. “Thank you. For today.”

 

“Did you have fun?”

 

“Tons. But this trip was for you, not me.”

 

“There's no me without you, Crash. This trip was for us. I know life got crazy fast and we may have lost sight of things, but thank you for reminding me.”

 

“Friends first.” She traced his jaw with her free hand.

 

“Always. I have one more place to take you after we eat, if that’s okay.”

 

“I go where you go.”

 

Nunzio delivered their food and bid them Arrivederci. They feasted on the delicious pizzas they had made, laughing and joking about how Romeo would be mad that he wasn’t there to make or eat it. She made him promise he would bring them all back when Lily was a little older. They ordered their gelato and set out on their next and final stop. Fontana di Trevi, better known as Trevi Fountain. Holding out a chair at the empty table he found, Jon waited for her to get comfortable and then sat.

 

“It’s beautiful. All the times I’ve been here, I never really got the chance to come and see it.” Ariana said as she took in the fountain’s detailed beauty.

 

“Ari, look at me.” Ariana turned her attention back to him. He held his hands out across the table for her. Setting her cup down, she placed her hands in his. “I brought you here for a reason….”

 

“You mean it wasn’t so you can make me fat?” she teased, but when she saw he didn’t laugh, she just nodded for him to go on.

 

“Torino holds a very special place in my heart for many reasons, but this,” he jerked his chin at the fountain. “This does too.”

 

Bringing her elbows up on the table brought her closer to him. “I’m listening.”

 

“Everyone knows about the legend of the fountain. How if you throw a coin or coins into it, you’re bound to return one day,” he rolled his eyes, “but you of all people know I’m a believer of people making their own destiny. But I will admit,” he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “to only you, that faith plays a part in that destiny and things happen for a reason.”

 

“Jon, where are you going with all this?”

 

“Back in 2000 when we, not us, the band and I, were filming the Thank you… video,” she went to say something, but he stopped her. “Let me finish. We spent a week here, hours on end, and when the camera wasn’t rolling, I would sit and watch. Young couples, old couples, locals, and tourist in love, or looking for love or in search of hope tossing their coins. And I don’t know what it was, maybe the song and what it meant, maybe it was being in the city of love, or the two bottles of wine I had that night. But whatever it was, I came to the fountain in the middle of the night with my three coins and like the legend said, I tossed them over my left shoulder.” Smiling, he shrugged like a little child, “silly, right?”

 

Instead of answering him, she pushed back her chair to stand, rounded the table and sat upon his knee. “No, not at all. You know why,” her hand motioned around them. “For whatever reason you want to call it, it brought us here.”

 

Jon dipped his head and watched as his hand softly caressed their baby. “Lili,” he whispered. “It was Lili, who brought us together again.”

 

With her knuckle, she nudged his chin up. His blue eyes glistened. “My grandmother?”

 

“Yup. It was all her doing. She’s the reason seven months ago when I shot that dart and it landed on Canada. She knew you would need someone. Not Cara. Not Max, but someone she knew wouldn’t let you give up. And when you were being stubborn and doubtful still,” he smiled at her scowl, “she gave us this Lily.”

 

Hopping off his lap, she reached for her bag and began rifling around in it. She tossed one red sneaker on the ground, so that she could find what she was looking for. A small, battered change purse with a metal clasp. Stuffing her shoe back in the bag, she hung it over her shoulder, took his hand, and led him closer to the fountain.

 

“How many?” she asked him while opening the small purse.  

 

Jon wiggled three fingers at her. “Each.” Counting out six coins, she handed him his and held hers in her other hand. “Now what?”

 

“We have to turn our backs to the fountain and with your right hand, you toss them over your left shoulder.”

 

“Do I need to make a wish?”

 

“You can. But what more can you wish for? You already have me.” 

 

“Shut up and throw your coins, Jonny.”