Susan stared at the dessert display case, and then quietly cursed her mother.
Even here, on vacation in Italy, her past refused to loosen its grip. The painful grade school memories, the cruelty of children, and the tears that frequently followed her years of weight gain and loss.
She had been the little fat girl in school. She always felt excluded, mocked, and alone. And so she found solace in the very thing that insured her misery.
Food.
Specifically, the rich desserts and baked goods that her mother loved to make. Susan never understood why her mother was always baking. Always tempting her with delicious cookies, cakes, and pastries.
It was almost like her mother wanted Susan fat. Like she wanted to ruin her life.
It took a lot of time, focus, and hard work for Susan to undo the damage of her youth.
She found a therapist, a nutritionist, and a personal trainer. She explored her dysfunctional mother-daughter relationship. She changed her diet. Became a CrossFit junkie.
But Susan didn’t stop there.
Physical fitness often sparks other achievements, and she doubled down at the law firm. She stayed late and accepted the toughest cases.
But most of all, Susan’s knack for generating business and understanding the firm’s economics helped catapult her from an associate to partner in an unheard-of six years.
By all measures, Susan was successful.
And yet, she was sad and unhappy.
Susan looked away from the dessert case and gazed at her watch.
Ten in the morning.
“Good,” she said to herself, “It’s before 11 AM, so I can order a cappuccino.” She knew Italians frowned on drinking cappuccinos after 11 AM. She liked to embrace the local customs, and not stand out as a tourist.
Sipping her cappuccino on the outside patio, she gazed at the Tower of Pisa, and all the people filling Pisa’s cathedral square (Piazza del Duomo).
She was proud of the fact that she came to Italy all by herself, to escape life for a while and try to figure out why she was so unhappy. She’d been all over Tuscany, and despite her fitness addiction, the thought of fighting the crowds and hiking to the top of Pisa Tower didn’t excite her.
And that’s when she noticed the nearby horses and carriages.
Susan usually liked to explore on her own, and avoid the tourist stuff. But for some reason, a carriage ride around the town and square sounded relaxing. She finished her cappuccino and strolled over to the first horse and carriage.
“Buongiorno,” Susan said to the stout-looking man sitting beside the carriage.
The man looked up from his smartphone and said, “Buongiorno, signora, vuole un passaggio?”
Susan smiled, unsure of what he said.
“Goodmorning, madam, would you like a ride?” He stood up and motioned towards the carriage.
“Why yes, that would be lovely,” Susan said.
“My name is Aldo, and my horse is Leonardo, but he’s not as smart as his namesake.”
“Your English is very good. By the way, I’m Susan.”
“Nice to meet you, Susan. I meet a lot of American tourists, and so my English has improved over the years.”
Aldo held Susan’s hand as she stepped into the carriage, noticing that she wore no rings.
“Welcome to Pisa, Susan. Allow Leonardo and me to show you around,” Aldo said with a smile, and then the carriage rocked gently forward, and they were off.
Aldo was friendly and his eyes sparkled with sincere kindness. As they rode along, Aldo spoke about the town’s history.
Susan asked a few questions, but then sat back and quietly took it all in. She couldn’t help but wonder why, despite being in the beauty of Tuscany, her unhappiness seemed to follow her.
Aldo noticed her silence and said, “Is everything alright?”
“Oh yes, it’s lovely here, Aldo. I guess I’m just distracted. I’m sorry. May I ask, have you been a carriage operator long?”
“Yes, Leonardo and I have been together ten years.”
“So I guess you enjoy it?” Susan asked.
“Oh yes. I love people, and it beats working the olive trees like my father did.”
With that, Aldo began telling Susan how his father was a farmer, and how hard he used to work. “Papa was a good man, but his life was not my life. So I came to the city and began my own business. Our parents mean well, but we must chart our own path.”
“Some parents mean well. But others…well, let’s just say not all parents have their kids’ best interests in mind,” Susan said.
“Your parents were not good to you?” Aldo asked.
“My father meant well, but he owned a hardware store and worked a lot. And my mother was a homemaker who loved to bake all the time. She was always in the kitchen, but she was kind of remote.”
“Remote?” Aldo asked.
“Well, she wasn’t overly affectionate. She had trouble expressing her feelings. So she escaped into food, which she constantly pushed on us. I became a fat kid, and it took a long time to overcome it.”
Susan looked away, surprised that she shared all that. But then, sometimes it’s easier to talk to strangers.
Aldo looked back at Susan. His kind eyes seemed to smile as he rubbed his protruding belly. “I have not overcome it. I have a gelato problem!”
Susan couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
They eventually ended up back at the Piazza del Duomo.
“Leonardo needs a break, and so do I,” Aldo said as he held out his hand and helped Susan step down. Susan paid Aldo and was going to apologize for bringing up her personal life, but Aldo smiled and said, “Susan, would you do me a favor?”
“Of course,” Susan said.
“I’m going to meet my son, Antonio, in a little while. Would you join me for an espresso, I’d like to tell you something. Of course, if you have to go, I understand.”
Susan had no plans, and since Aldo was so friendly and kind, she agreed. They strolled to a nearby cafe, ordered, and sat down beneath a covered patio.
Aldo took a sip of his espresso, set it down, and then he pulled out an old pocket watch from his jacket.
“This used to belong to my father,” Aldo said as his beefy hands held the silver pocket watch. “It was lying in the dirt beside him the day I found Papa. His heart, you see. It just gave out.”
“I’m sorry, Aldo,” Susan said.
“Thank you. Of course, that was years ago. I keep the pocket watch to remind me how precious time is. Sometimes we run out of time, and we never get to say the things we need to say. Papa and I sometimes argued. We didn’t agree on much. But I loved him. I just wish I could have told him.”
Aldo gazed at the pocket watch for a moment, then he looked back at Susan. “Before you came over to my carriage, Susan, I was on my phone reading on the Internet. Looking for new books. I came across a quote from an author named Shannon L. Alder. I think maybe it was fate that I share the quote with you.”
Susan was far from superstitious, but her curiosity got the best of her. “Please, I’d be happy to hear it.”
Aldo held up his phone, swiped a few times, and said, “Ah, here it is, are you ready?”
“Yes,” Susan said.
Aldo cleared his throat and began reading:
When you loved someone and had to let them go, there will always be that small part of yourself that whispers, ‘What was it that you wanted and why didn’t you fight for it?’
Susan sat back, a little stunned. Aldo put his phone down.
“Forgive me, Susan, for we have just met, and we are talking of personal things. You are such a lovely person, but…C’è una tristezza in te. There is a sadness in you.”
“I guess it has to do with my Mom. Like you loved your father, I love my mother. But she was baking all the time, hiding in the kitchen. Making me fat.”
Susan’s eyes began to well with tears.
“Oh Susan, I’m sorry to upset you.” Aldo offered her a tissue. “We don’t get to choose our families. But we forget that our parents have their own battles. Have you ever wondered what your Mother was hiding from? Why she spent all that time in the kitchen, baking?”
Susan wiped her eyes and sat up a little. It was a good question. What was her mother hiding from? Why was she baking all the time in the kitchen? Susan had focused so much on her own struggles, she hadn’t really thought about her mother’s struggles.
“If you want things to be better with your Mama, Susan, then you must fight for it,” Aldo said. And then he stood up, opened his arms, and shouted, “Antonio!”
Susan looked over and saw Aldo’s son, Antonio, approaching them. He was wearing stylish sunglasses and a light sport coat over a white tee shirt. He was ridiculously handsome.
“Antonio, this is my new friend, Susan. She is an American on holiday here in Tuscany.” Aldo said.
“Ciao, Susan…it is beautiful to meet you,” Antonio said in his best English as he removed his sunglasses. “My padre and I are going to lunch. You join us?”
Antonio had a big, beautiful smile and warm eyes like his father. It was tempting to join them, but Susan knew she had something more pressing to do.
“I would love to join you both, but I think I have to go make a phone call. I’m staying near here. Perhaps tomorrow, around the same time?” Susan couldn’t believe she suggested meeting again, but Antonio was like an irresistible magnet, and Aldo was such a gentleman.
Aldo leaned closer to Susan and handed her his pocket watch. “It’s a date, Susan. Until tomorrow, please borrow my pocket watch. To remind you how important time is. How important that phone call is.”
“Oh, no, Aldo, I couldn’t possibly take your pocket watch,” Susan said.
“It’s only a loan, Susan. To give you motivation. To remember what you want and to have the courage to fight for it.”
Susan took the pocket watch and gave Aldo a long hug. “Only until tomorrow, Aldo. Thank you.”
On her way back to the hotel, Susan noticed a woman seated on a doorstep. There was something sad about her. She seemed alone, huddled with her things, frowning, unhappy.
The woman reminded Susan of her mother. Same gray hair. Same frown. Same aloneness. For the first time Susan felt a pang of sorrow for her mother.
That night, after a glass of chianti for courage, Susan phoned her mother. She set aside an ocean of buried feelings and simply said that she missed her. That she loved her.
They spoke for hours.
Susan learned that her parent’s marriage wasn’t a happy one. That her mother buried her pain by baking in the kitchen. And she also baked to try to make Susan happy, not realizing how much the food complicated Susan’s life.
So many misunderstandings. So many unintentional wounds. So much time wasted.
Susan held Aldo’s magical pocket watch as she spoke with her mother.
There were tears and pleas from both for forgiveness. And then her mother said, “Oh Susan, I love you so much. I’m so sorry for any pain I caused you. Thank you, thank you for calling me. And when you’re done exploring Italy, please come home and see me. We have so much to catch up on.”
That night, for the first time in ages, Susan slept deeply and soundly.
The next day around noon Susan returned to the little cafe near the Piazza del Duomo. She sat down and held Aldo’s pocket watch in her hands.
Not far away, Susan spied a young bride and groom taking pictures. It was so romantic. She thought about love, and what her future held.
“Buongiorno, Susan.” It was Antonio, smiling broadly.
“Buongiorno, Antonio. It’s nice to see you again. Where is your father?”
“My father and Leonardo take a family around town in carriage. So I lock up the fitness gym, and came to join you.”
“The fitness gym?” Susan asked.
“Yes, I own many fitness gyms here in Tuscany. Fitness is my life. Probably why I have not sat down and marry yet. I want to, how do you say, expense to the United States.”
“I think the word you want is expand,” Susan said with a smile, enjoying Antonio’s broken English.
“Yes, yes, expand!” Antonio’s radiant eyes and smile were a bit intoxicating.
“Oh, before I forget, here is your father’s pocket watch. Please tell him thank you. I think it’s magical. It helped me reconnect with my mother.”
“I’m glad,” Antonio said. “Oh…my father write down quote from one of his books. He ask that I give to you.”
Antonio rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a piece of paper with beautiful handwriting on it. “May I read to you,” Antonio said.
“That would be lovely, Antonio.”
Antonio cleared his throat, smiled, and read the following:
Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards. ― Søren Kierkegaard
“Your father is a wise man,” Susan said as the waiter brought them cappuccinos. “He taught me the importance of fighting for the things that matter. And his pocket watch reminded me that time doesn’t last forever. We have to live and love, despite our faults, while we can.”
Antonio slid his chair closer, raised his cappuccino, and said, “Verso il futuro. To the future, Susan!”
(This is a work of fiction, inspired by the author’s street photography in Tuscany. Originally published at JohnPWeiss.com)
Before you go
I’m John P. Weiss. I write elegant stories and essays about life. Check out my popular Saturday Letters here.
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This post was previously published on Medium.com.
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All photos by John P. Weiss
