The Cold Room

Sunday
Thirty-Eight

Gavin was lost. The maze of streets was overwhelming, the flocks of people pushing their way in every direction, the sneaker-clad tourists frantically following tour guides who held identifying flowers or flags over their heads so their temporary wards could follow along and not get lost in the crowd. He heard snatches of many languages: Italian, English, German, French, Spanish, Russian. Tommaso hadn’t prepared him for the shuffle, the mess. He never envisioned Florence this way. Gavin felt a little panicky. He hated crowds.

The taxi had dropped him at the Duomo, per Tommaso’s instructions. Up to this point, the directions had been easy to follow. Land in Rome, take the Pendolino train to Florence, the Santa Maria Novella station. Tommaso had been very clear on that point. “Not Rifredi, Gavin. The ticket will be reserved for you. S.M.N. is a ten-minute walk from the Duomo, but it will be easier for you to take a taxi.”

He had followed the instructions to the letter, and everything was going smoothly until now. From the Duomo-the overwhelmingly large and beautiful neo-gothic façade with its white, pink and green marble panels stood gloriously in front of him. Gavin couldn’t help but stop and crane his neck to look at it all, he’d never seen anything so stunning.

He was supposed to walk south, through the Piazza della Repubblica, then take his first right. Tommaso lived on a tiny side street just off the piazza, Via Montebello. It sounded so easy on the phone, but now Gavin wondered why he couldn’t have taken a taxi directly to Tommaso’s house. It would have been less confusing.

This is why he didn’t travel-armchaired his desires and dreams. Gavin had gotten off-kilter, turned the wrong way somehow, and was surrounded by statues. He stopped, awestruck, by Michelangelo’s David. It was so huge. He knew it wasn’t the original, just a reproduction, but my God. All of the statues, the bronze sculptures, the fountain, were heartbreakingly beautiful. It was all just so Italian.

He found a shadowed corner of the piazza, fumbled in his pocket for the map he’d picked up as he exited the train station. A few minutes of searching and he found where he was, Piazza della Signoria. He regrouped. He needed to go back west, then turn south.

He started on his way. As he crossed the Via Porto Rosso, a man grabbed his arm.

“Tommaso, bastardi! Che cosa è accaduto ai vostri capelli? Mi dovete i soldi! Dove sono i miei soldi?” He smiled broadly, clapping Gavin on the back and speaking in rapid-fire Italian. Gavin could tell it was good-natured teasing, but he didn’t understand a word the man was saying. He could only focus on one thing. This stranger had called him Tommaso.

The man continued to prattle on, oblivious to the fact Gavin wasn’t answering. He walked him along, hand on his arm, and finally left him with a brisk slap on the back. “Ciao, ciao. A demani, ciao!”

Gavin was standing alone in an alleyway. He didn’t have any idea where he was, what was going to happen to him. He’d just worked himself into a state when he noticed the address he was standing in front of.

Tommaso’s house.

The man thought he was Tommaso. He obviously knew Tommaso, knew him well enough to know where he lived. He was beside himself. He didn’t know whether to knock, or ring the bell.

In the end, he didn’t have to. Tommaso must have been watching for him, because within moments of his advantageous arrival on his brother’s doorstep, Tommaso opened the wooden door.

The dislocation he felt was immediate and overwhelming. It was like looking in a mirror. Tommaso was struck as well; Gavin saw his jaw drop slightly. Then he was enveloped in a bear hug that took his breath away, pulled inside a fragrant hallway. The door shut behind him, casting shadows in the foyer. He smelled rosemary, and wood and the harsh scent of Clorox.

The scents were familiar and alien. He shook his head, trying to assimilate. That’s when he caught the fragrant undertone. His heart scudded a happy beat.

Tommaso grasped his hand, looked into their replica eyes.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. Come in, little brother.”