Everyone Loves an American Girl

The sun glittered on the water below the Ponte Vecchio. Ten different languages could be heard in a twenty foot radius. The tourists didn’t take away from the ambiance however, to Cara it was renaissance Florence. At any moment she might turn around and meet a duke or a famous painter. She was home, with the past of a foreign country all around her she was home. Walking along with her large sunglasses obscuring half of her face Cara admired all the life around her. If only this was how life could be back home. Full of art and beauty and warmth. At home there were designer purses and suburban Escalades but no art, prep school and cheerleading but no beauty, sunshine and tanning but no warmth.

Cara continued walking a few paces behind her parents. They crossed the courtyard of the Uffizi and continued into the main square of Florence. The Duomo was visible above all the other buildings. Near the hotel under an awning behind the main square Cara came across another vendor stall. This one was selling leather goods, not that different from all the others but hanging on a hook was a dainty purse with a ring of crystals in its strap. Cara checked to see how far ahead her parents were and saw them preoccupied with a man selling souvenir shirts. Cara walked up and took the purse down to investigate its price, she only had ten euro on her.

“You can have it for twenty.” A warm Italian accented voice spoke quietly in her ear. “See the tag, it says thirty.” A tanned hand brushed hers as the young man pointed to the tag that indeed read thirty euro. “But for you it is only twenty.”

“Really?” Cara smiled in spite of herself. She half believed that this unnecessarily good looking young Italian man would not have given the discount to any other American teenager. At least he looked genuine, and genuine compliments were few and far between for Cara. His deep brown eyes were kind, it is impossible to fake the look in a person’s eyes. “I’m sorry I can’t.” Cara sighed heavily.

“But it is perfect for a pretty girl like you, try it on!” He was just trying to make money, Cara knew that but she still smiled uncontrollably.

“Maybe I’ll come back.” Cara grinned widely and rushed to catch up with her mother and father up ahead.

That evening Cara leaned out her window overlooking a busy street just off of the main square. She watched the African men with their counterfeit hand bags and watches dash and run when the police made a sweep and then set up again moments later. The hand bag men were entertaining to no end. A parade wound itself along the street later and Cara had a perfect view of the boys who marched like their fathers, albeit slightly less dignified in their multicolored tights. Such history, such tradition, there wasn’t anything like that at home. The flag throwers tossed their pennants just under her window. The knights were about a block away. The men in armor were Cara’s favorite part of the parades that seemed to occur every other day in Italy. She left her room and went to stand in front of the hotel with the rest of the crowd.

The knights in this parade wore maroon tights and carried decorative spears. Cara shielded her eyes from the sun and as she did so caught the eye of the nearest knight. He was unabashedly staring at her. Cara blushed and looked at him back straight in the eye. Something she would have never done had a boy stared at her at home. The young knight smirked in an almost suggestive manner and dipped his head to her. After he had passed Cara went back upstairs her heart light and could not remember when she had ever felt more attractive. Why did she have to go home, no one looked at her at home, she was plain and unworthy of attention at home, the one who was smart and quick but never got asked to dance. Furthermore no one at home appreciated art, no one at home knew the names of the famous painters, Titian, Botticcelli, Gentileschi, sure everyone knew Da Vinci and Michelangelo but could they name their works or patrons? No. Cara lamented that only one full day remained of her Italian summer.

Cara was determined to make her last day worth while. It was July fourth, she wore a black peasant skirt and a white t-shirt bearing the legend “Everyone loves and American girl.” accented in red and blue fireworks. Not particularly stylish but being patriotic made her mother smile. The last day of vacation was to be spent at the Pitti Palace. Cara could feel the excitement running through her veins, the Pitti palace contained some of the best pieces of art in the entire world, granted not as many as the Uffizi but still a fair few.

Cara walked the rooms alone and stared around her in awe. In one of the last rooms high on a wall in the right corner was Artemesia Gentilleschi’s Mary Magdalene. Cara stood and stared for a long time, the figure in the painting wore a long gold dress and stared in anguish out at her. One hand seemed to shove the world away and another clutched at her breast. Such emotional pain captured for all time on canvas. Artemesia was a personal favorite of Cara’s, but this painting was beyond favoritism. Cara found herself blinking back tears. Surely this was how Magdalene looked before she met Jesus, surely this is the true image of emotional turmoil. God was here, in the art.

After the Pitti palace Cara convinced her parents to go back to the street vendors they had visited the day before. Cara skipped ahead and had the purse in her hand before the young man even noticed her. But he did notice and he smirked.

“I remember you.”

“Yes, I was here yesterday.” Cara smiled and looked him straight in they eye. “so how much is the purse?”

“Twenty five.” The young man smiled at his own wit, marking up the price from yesterday but still giving her a discount. “Because everyone loves an American girl.”

***

First day of school Cara wore her cheerleading uniform and acted the part but her heart was in Florence. In her first period she day dreamed about returning and drinking red wine with beautiful Italian men on verandas. After a while Cara made a decision that she wasn’t going to go back to being the plain quiet girl she had been last year. If she was beautiful in Florence then she was beautiful here.

It seemed to Cara Europeans were so happy and carefree, and that that was why she felt so at ease there. If everyone in America worried half as much and were half as casual as Europeans life would be so much easier. Wasn’t good food and friendship better than working double overtime in order to pay for that new S.U.V.? Well if everyone around her was going to continue to be uptight and refuse to move outside the box they had carved for themselves over the years then Cara would have to. She could not survive another suffocating year.

At the table across from Cara sat a good looking blonde boy whom Cara knew from her English class the year before. He looked tired but happy that morning on the first day of school. Cara was caught off guard when he looked up and caught her staring dreamily at him. But Cara had left her days of looking down in Italy, today she stared straight back. His eyes were brown like the kind street vendor’s had been. He laughed quietly and went back to his reading. Cara smiled and sighed to herself. Everyone might love an American girl, but it was her new European state of mind that would make this year bearable.