TWO YEARS LATER.

  KRISTINA.

  Christmas is approaching. The city is all in lights. The shops are full, the streets are more lively than usual. People meet, hug and go for a walk along the wide streets. I feel the spirit of Christmas too. And this year I will celebrate it alone again. It is a little sad, but I do not despair, because I made my own choice. Maybe it is for the best.

  “The apartment is just right, small and cozy. Thank you for helping me find it, signora.”

  “No need to thank me,” the woman smiles, “you’re paying.”

  The realtor is a woman in her forties, she is married and has two children. We met completely by chance when I first came to Rome on business.

  “Sorry, I’m so clumsy.”

  “Don’t rush so much, otherwise you definitely won’t have time to do what you wanted. Are you a student?”

  I answered her haltingly in broken Italian, which I had just started learning. She ughed.

  “Where are you from?” She switched to passable English.

  “I am from Scotnd.”

  “My husband wants to go there someday.”

  “I’ll pay for the coffee. I’m sorry it happened.”

  “It’s okay. My name is Celeste. And I’m a realtor. Call me when you need me,” she handed me her business card.

  “Okay, signora. Have a nice day!”

  “Come visit us for the holidays, Cristina. My children are dreaming of finally meeting a talented artist.”

  I’m a little embarrassed:

  “I don’t even know. I wouldn’t want to cause any inconvenience…”

  “Don’t talk nonsense, girl. You are not bothering anyone, and you are especially welcome in our home. This is my address,” Celeste takes out a small piece of paper on which the address seems to be written in advance, “think carefully. In any case, we will wait for you.”

  She leaves. I decide to take another look around, then go to the window. The area is not too poor, but not too rich either. The view is of ordinary Roman streets, but I like it. I want to make a sketch. Sometimes I draw it in a small notebook for myself as a keepsake. The atmosphere is right. I am interrupted by the doorbell. Maybe Celeste forgot something. But no, there is a courier standing in front of me.

  “Signorina Cristina Winnes?”

  “Sì, signore.”

  “Someone asked me to deliver it to you.”

  “Who?”

  He looks in his notes.

  “I don’t know, signorina, anonymously. Please sign.”

  “Um… Okay.”

  I leave a neat signature and hesitantly take the small box.

  “Merry Christmas, signor!”

  “And to you too. Arrivederci!”

  It’s strange. However, I must finish the sketch first.

  By evening, I finally mustered up the courage to open the strange narrow box. I untie the white ribbon from the gift.

  “Who could it be?”

  There’s a rustling small bag inside. And a bnk sheet of paper on it.

  “Hmm. Maybe they put it there by accident?”

  There are two Snickers bars and a gray twisted candle in the bag.

  “What is this?! What nonsense… Maybe I should really go to Celeste and her family for Christmas? Come on, Christina, you’re exaggerating,” I say to myself.

  It’s time to rest. I’m tired from getting to Rome and then from waiting for Celeste. It’s good that she found such a nice pce for me in advance. And most importantly, it’s small and cozy. I undress and lie down under a thin but very soft bnket, but I can’t fall asleep. Well, I’ll have to order something for myself. I think I’m hungry.

  An hour ter, I got a knock at the door.

  “Signorina, your pizza.”

  “Grazie, signor.”

  Finally, I can enjoy the wonderful taste of food. I open the box, and…

  “Another white sheet of paper, on top of the pizza. What the hell? Okay, never mind, dinner comes first.”

  Trying not to think about it, I eat the pizza and wash it down with soda. Then I go back to bed and try to fall asleep quickly, not thinking about these strange things.

  The sun wakes me up, seeping through the crack between the curtains that I didn’t close very well the night before. I don’t want to get up from my soft bed, but there’s only one day left until Christmas. I have some spare money, so I need to buy presents. I’ll still accept the invitation.

  “That’s great. We’ll be waiting for you at ten o’clock, Christina,” there’s satisfaction in her voice.

  What should I buy that would suit everyone?

  A rge, elegant Christmas tree greets me almost from the threshold. More precisely, the living room is straight ahead, so that a beautiful view can be seen as soon as I open the door.

  “Aunt Christina has arrived!” someone with a bunch of curls immediately hangs on my neck.

  “Gabriel! Calm down, please. Let the girl pass. The slippers are on the bottom shelf,” says Celeste.

  “Good evening,” I say, “so you’re Gabriel, then? Please take this under the tree.”

  “Presents, presents!” the girl excims, snatching the box from my hands and running to the tree.

  “Watch out, don’t fall!” Celeste warns her, “the noisy child,” she smiles at me.

  “How old is she?” I look at Celeste understandingly.

  “Four and a half. A hurricane, not a child,” she ughs, but at the same time she is a little embarrassed.

  “Don’t worry, signora,” I tell her, “when we were kids some of us were really active.”

  She looks at me suspiciously.

  “Somehow I don’t believe it. You’re too calm.”

  “Well, we all grow up, right?” I smile shyly.

  “I can’t help but agree. But why are you standing there, come in.”

  The living room is decorated. Paper garnds are everywhere.

  “My brother and I made these,” Gabriel shouts from the other end of the living room.

  “This is my husband Antonio,” Celeste points to a stately man of about fifty. Gray hair is already starting to timidly break through his thick bck hair. He looks at me through his gsses in a gilded frame and says to me in a deep, pleasant voice:

  “Hello, signorina. So your name is Cristina, right?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “And this is Vico, our pride,” Celeste continues and points to a guy sitting in an armchair in the back of the living room, “say hello, Vico.”

  “Good evening!”

  Vico is like his father, like two peas in a pod, only he doesn’t wear gsses.

  “You sit down for now, there’s another chair behind the Christmas tree. Antonio, will you help me?”

  “Of course, my doe,” his gaze is full of love.

  “They suit each other,” I note. I walk in and sit down.

  “I’m gd you’ve joined us. I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time. I once went to an exhibition at your university. Your work immediately caught my eye. It’s a unique style. I think you’ll be successful. I was pretty good at drawing in primary school, but then I realized I wanted to be a cardiologist, and I’m still studying. I’m twenty-four. And you?”

  “Twenty-three. And I graduated this year. So now I’m on my own.”

  “Great, I’m happy for you. What are your pns now?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. I want to get a job in an art gallery. But I’m not sure my nguage skills are good enough to hold exhibitions. And I don’t really want to go back to Scotnd.”

  “Can I ask why?” Vico asks curiously.

  “I don’t think I want to talk about it. But I have my own reasons.”

  “What about your family?”

  I hesitate to answer. I feel Vico looking at my hands, I squeeze them tighter than usual. Little Gabriel comes to my rescue.

  “Brother,” she runs up to him, “help me, please.”

  “You can’t beat the game on the tablet again?” his gaze warms.

  “Yeah, there’s not much left.”

  “Okay, let’s go. I hope you can do it.”

  He finishes talking to me and dives into the game, expining to his sister how to do it. Celeste comes up to us.

  “Everything is ready, time to go to the table.”