Disappear Venice Revision

I love holding hands.  Something about that act of holding another persons hand can be more intimate than sex.  I especially like holding Danny's hand.  A lot of time he still has paint splattered on his finger tips.  If I turn our hands in a certain way I can still smell whiffs of turpentine from when he cleaned his brushes in the studio.  "Lev!  Lev!" are you with us tonight"?  I looked up from our hands at my best friend Emma.  "Yeah I said, I'm here.  Right here."  I must have said it tentatively because Emma gave me a look with her big blue eyes.  "I hope you are thinking about something good" she smiled wickedly.  I gave her a half smile and then looked at Danny who was gesturing wildly, bravely trying to speak Italian with Oliver, who though italian by heritage spoke worse than all of us.

         I glance outside and smiled.  We were in our favorite little hole in the wall bar in Venice.  Emma and I had stumbled upon it our first week here and as our group became solidified we all started meeting here late, after we had finished in the studio.  We were graduate students living in Venice.  All of us were different but somehow as a unit we fit together.  We were all here, letting off steam, grabbing a few drinks.  The owners had gotten to know us, two flamboyantly gay men from Berlin who completed their dream of opening a bar in the city on the water.  I enjoyed seeing them outside of the bar around the city.  Venice was small enough that even people in the periphery of your life came to play roles in your day to day.  They would walk their bull dog together single file in the tight alley's.  I usually saw them early in the morning as I made my way to school.  I was drinking house red wine which was better than any bottle I had ever bought in the states.  I drifted in and out of conversations and realized how happy I was.  In the past six months these people had become my family.  Me and Emma, Danny, Oliver, and Rebekkah.

         Before coming to Italy I had always dreamed of it.  I think many people do.  The culture is rich, the art is beautiful, and the cities are small enough to seem accessible.  It seemed that anything and everything could happen if you just let it.  However, I never realized that once you make the decision to go and live here, really live your life, not as a tourist, that Italy has a way of soaking into your bones.  My very being felt different after becoming immersed in life here six months ago.  It doesn't hurt that I fell in love with not only the place but also the people.  Venetians are different creatures that most other italians.  There is a joke that our art history professor told us.  She said that Venetians think that that first Venice was created and then the rest of Italy quickly followed suit.  Venetians definitely do not follow the stereotypical idea of what being an italian means.  The jovial, embracing, happy person seen in the movies doesn't seem to exist.  I don't know if Venetians do not fit this stereotype because Venice is slowly sinking, or because the streets become too crowded to walk when all the tourists come for Carnivale, but they are not a happy people.  My impression was that Venetians don't like anyone until you have proven that you are worth the effort.  After six months I finally received a smile from the woman who regularly checks me out at the grocery store.

         I glanced outside and realized that it had grown late.  The darkness had seeped into the stones and except for the light right outside the bar it would be difficult to see your feet in front of you.  I glanced at my watch.  It was already 11:30 and I realized that Rebekkah hadn't come yet.  I picked up my cell phone and called her but the phone continued to ring and her usual voicemail never picked up.  I looked up worriedly,"Hey Em" I asked, "Have you seen Rebekkah yet"?  Emma shook her blond head no and went back to her beer.  "Hey Oliver" I yelled getting his attention, "Have you seen Rebekkah"?  "She's probably still in the studio" Danny said.  "I don't think so, I just tried to call her and she didn't answer" I said worriedly looking at my cell phone.  "Lev, don't worry"  Emma rolled her eyes.  "I bet she met up with the guy who works at the restaurant in San Stefano."  "What"?  "You think"?  Oliver said trying to act disinterested.  Rachel honed in on Oliver.  "Why do you care Ollie"?  "I don't"!  Oliver retorted back.  "Guys, can we focus?  I'm getting worried".  I check my watch again.  "Danny, it's already 11:30.  Rebekkah had a rough critique with Andre today.  He ripped her woodcuts to shred, I don't think....What"?  "Sweetie, do you know how cute you are when you worry about everything and everyone?"  Danny said.  I looked into his green eyes.  As cliche as it was I could get lost in Danny's green eyes, in his smile.  "Come on, let's get another drink" Danny whispered.  "Then when we're done with that drink let's walk to San Marco" his eyes flashed.  "Are you still worried?" he asked  I felt like I couldn't breathe, in a good way.  Danny makes me feel safe, I wasn't worried, I wasn't anything.  I leaned into him, "Buy me a drink".  I shut my eyes, let him grab my hand and pull me towards the bar.

         I woke up with the sunlight just barely touching the ratty white curtains.  The bed was only a twin and I could feel Danny's breath on the back on my neck.  I could hear Oliver, Danny's roommate snoring softly.  Danny had his arm firmly around my waist.  Even though the bed was small we always joked that we seemed to fit perfectly in it.           Danny always said the bed was too small if I wasn't in it with him.  Everything about Danny and I seemed to fit perfectly together.  Danny is my first love.  My first everything really.  When I came to Venice the last thing on my mind was a relationship.  Then my first day at school in walks this goofy, tall boy with floppy hair who plops in a chair next to me wearing burkenstocks and looks at me and smiles.  That was it for me.  Now here I am six months later in his bed, completely in love, and feeling his soft breath on my neck.  Danny has changed me.

         I gently put my feet down, threw on Danny's t-shirt that was on the floor and padded on the cold stone floor out of the room and into the kitchen.  All of the windows in the apartment were open and I could already hear the early morning sounds of Venice.  The water lapping against stone, metal store doors being unlocked and lifted, steps echoing up and over the bridges, and the rise and flow of Venetians starting their day.  I loved Venice in the morning, the city on the water filled with endless possibilities.  I think I'm going to go to a museum today.

         I heard a knock on the door.  That's strange.  I quickened my pace to get the knocking which was becoming louder and more insistent.  I glanced at my watch.  It was only seven in the morning.  I grabbed the wooden door and quickly unlocked both locks.  Standing before me with wild blonde hair looking disheveled and panicked was Emma.  Before I could ask her what was wrong she blurted out, "Rebekkah is missing". 



         

         "Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree"!!  I opened one eye.  "Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree"!!!  It was September.  I purposely torture myself with insanely annoying alarm music on my phone.  "Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree", I opened the other eye and pressed the alarm to off.  "Ouch"!  I cried. "Henry don't bite mama on the nose"!  Big yellow eyes blinked at me with obvious defiance.  Henry is my baby.  All fourteen glorious feline pounds of him.  Though since he was a kitten he can't help himself to biting my nose every morning as a reminder that he's hungry.

         I pulled myself out of bed with sheer force of will.  I shuffled across the wood floor of my cozy apartment.  I had to smile.  This apartment was my sanctuary.  Art books littered the book shelves and art from various friends hung on the walls.  The wood floors were refurbished pine and I could smell the coffee set the night before already brewing in the kitchen.  Henry pranced in front of me with his buff tail wagging knowing that breakfast was on the way.  "Here baby" I said.  As I gave him his food Henry blinked again, but this time I chose to take it as a thank you.  "Your welcome" I said.  I grabbed the remote and flicked on the morning news.  The beautiful blonde newscaster who reminded me a bit of Emma was just finishing another interview with the supposed mistress of another politician.  I shook my head, everyone was so obsessed with other peoples sex lives.  I would personally rather focus on my own, which was non-exsistent at the moment.  I did have my eye on a very handsome lawyer that I saw occasionally working in the office over from where I helped an older woman run her gallery.  I only knew he was a lawyer because Nan who owns the gallery loves to chat as the day gets later.  She more often talks to herself than anything else but at 85 and still running your own gallery you could say that she had earned the right to talk even if only to me.  By 5 in the evening I was usually only half listening, trying to finish up my work and get on with the rest of my night. 

         I grabbed my favorite coffee cup bought for me by Emma so many years ago.  As I started pouring the coffee I was mentally going through the list of things I knew waited at work today.  The usual phone calls, e-mails, unpacking of a new show and repacking of an old one.  I froze.  The bubbly blonde newscaster now looked very serious.  "We now have a confirmed report that twenty year old Michelle Walker who was currently spending a semester abroad in Venice, Italy has been reported missing.  We are now going to Brian Shinegold who is currently on the scene in Venice".

         The coffee was all over the counter, dripping down to the floor.  "Shit!"  I yelled.  "Shit!" I yelled again louder hoping that my shaking would go away if my voice sounded in control.  I stared at the t.v. intently as the newscaster came into focus standing in the piazza San Marco.  He was looking particularily somber in contrast to the tourist behind him feeding the pigeons and happily snapping pictures.  "As of 8 o'clock this morning a young woman named Michelle Walker who is a junior at B.U. University studying abroad in Venice was reported missing by her roommates.  I looked at clock on my microwave.  It was seven in New York meaning that it was already one in the afternoon in Venice.  I calculated in my head that this girl had been missing for five hours already.  I turned my attention back to the t.v.  "She was expected to meet them at 11 p.m. last night but never showed.  Her roommates were concerned but figured she was working late on school work.  Unfortunately, the roommates discovered that Michelle had never come home last night and as of this morning reported to the police that she was missing".

         I felt physically sick.  I sat on the floor and put my head between my knees.  I realized I was sitting in a puddle of hot coffee.  I quickly decided I didn't care.  I was dreaming.  I had to be dreaming.  This couldn't be happening.  Henry came over and nudged my hand with his head probably trying to make sure his mommy was still breathing.  I realized I wasn't breathing and I started gulping in air.  I looked back to the t.v. as they were showing a picture.  The picture was of a beautiful girl with long dark hair.  Her eyes seemed to dance with life and she was smiling as if someone had said something funny.  I have seen this picture before.  I was there when the picture was taken.  Though it had been ten years since that picture it felt like no time had passed.  I was back in Italy, back in Venice, I was happy.  The picture on the screen was Rebekkah.

         I haven't thought about Rebekkah in years.  I don't mean passing or fleeting thoughts, those happen everyday.  I mean the kind of thinking that can make you sad.  The what ifs and what could have beens. that you can't change.  I was there when that picture was taken.  Oliver had given the snapshot from our trip to Rome to Rebekkah's parents when Rebekkah first went missing.  I couldn't believe that it was almost ten years ago.  Rebekkah was the quiet one of our group.  She wasn't part of a couple, though Oliver would have wanted that more than anything.  She was relatively happy with the regular angst that most artists are born with.  She wasn't the person that I confided in.  Truthfully I was so much in my own world at that time that i'm not sure who confided in Rebekkah.  Or for that matter who Rebekkah confided in.  I had Danny and Emma.  Danny had me and Oliver.  Emma had me.  I'm not sure who Rebekkah had, but the more I had though about it after she had gone missing I hoped it was someone important.

         I grabbed the phone from the floor and the holder toppled onto my head.  "Shit"! I yelled again wondering why this word was coming out of my mouth so often this morning.  I speed dialed Em.  "Answer, answer" I whispered under my breath.  I desperately needed someone to talk to.  "Hey it's Emma.  You know what to do".  "Crap" I said.  I then remembered that Emma was traveling and probably already in a morning meeting.  "Uhhggg" I groaned.  Calm down Lev.  Chill, it's o.k.  I repeated this again and again in my head.  I punched in the number again and listened to the voice mail.  "Em, Emma, it's Lev.  Call me, K?" "We really need to talk".  I hung up the phone and put the receiver next to me.  I crossed my fingers and waited for her to call me back.  I needed to call out of work.  I wasn't going anywhere this morning.



         

        Detective Cavalli rushed as quickly as he could through the calle's.  His footsteps echoed but he barely heard them as he dodged umbrellas in the smallest streets in the world.  He was unusually tall for a Venetian which had both it's pro's and con's.  As a detective being tall gave him an edge.  It made him imposing and he was able to get into others people space which he used as often as possible.  Being a detective in Venice was usually wonderful.  He solved petty crimes; tourists who had wallets stolen from the groups of gypsy's, breakins, neighborly disputes.  Murder was not high on the list of crimes needing to be solved.  Cavalli sighed.  He drew in a big breath and reminded himself that this was quite possibly just a girl traveling alone and not telling her friends.  It wasn't necessarily murder.  Cavalli had a feeling deep in his stomach that this was something more sinister.  He quickened his steps and entered into a small calle, took the steps two at a time up and over a bridge and came into Piazza San Angelo.  Piazza San Angelo was not a huge piazza but it was a lively one.  In this piazza were the dorms for the students attending Scuola di Grafica which was an art and graphic design school on the other side of the city. 

        Cavalli stopped a minute to light a cigarette and consider what his options were.  The missing student, Michelle, had lived in these dorm rooms with her roommates and there were eight other apartments full of both Italian and American students.  He had spoken briefly with her roommates before starting a search for Michelle.  He had told them to go back to the apartment and sit tight until he was able to come and speak with them more carefully.  They had seemed truly distraught.  However, ten years as a carbianeri had taught him looks could be deceiving and instincts could go to shit if you weren't careful.

         Cavalli thought about the media circus that this was sure to turn into.  Young pretty girl studying abroad  goes missing.  He remembered what had happened to his beautiful city ten years ago when another beautiful, young coed had gone missing.  Venice had turned into a circus.  The missing girls parents were taped wandering the calles.  The mother crying, the father becoming increasingly more angry.  He had just started then, but even now the images haunted him.  The pain that was so obviously felt by the parents and the friends of that girl were feelings that he couldn't get rid of even now.  That case had been another officers but unfortunately for him this case was his.

         He heard a noise off to his right and immediately snapped his head in that direction.  Cavalli internally chided himself.  He was unusually jumpy after having been in meetings all morning with his boss.  The noise was nothing but an apple dropping from the fruit stand in the corner.  The apple had been carelessly dropped by a toddler not being supervised closely enough by his mother.  If that had been him when he was a child Cavalli knew that his mama would have bought the apple and made him eat it to teach him to be more careful.  He smiled at the thought for even at 72 his mama was a spitfire.

        Cavalli knew the owner of the fruit stand and he slowly made his way over to the stall. Alberto, the owner, also happened to be one of the biggest gossip's in Venice.  If anyone had seen anything Alberto was sure to have heard about it.  "Ciao, Alberto!  Come Stai"?  Cavalli said trying to make his voice as neutral as possible.  "Ciao detective!"  "What brings you to this side of the city at this hour"?  "Shouldn't you be in your apartment for an afternoon siesta"?  Alberto went on to give a huge wink and then looked expectantly for the answer.  Cavalli rolled his eyes.  Obviously his voice was not neutral enough, though Alberto had probably already heard about the missing girl.