The Treasure in the Field

By: Lux Perpetua

Part One: Adesso

Chapter One:

“Wait!” Emily Poiger slung her backpack over her shoulder and sprinted down the steps to the platform. She waved her ticket frantically at the train conductor. No luck. The train pulled away with a blast of exhaust.

She cursed and took off her backpack, dropping it on a bench. She sat down heavily beside it, sullenly watching the train to Ravenna turn by an old church, and glide out of sight.

The espresso machine hissed in the station café; lights flashed on Platform Two as the local express pulled up. She leaned back on the bench, looking up at the bars of intense Italian sky, just visible through the gaps in the roof. Heat radiated through the bench; the attendant’s counter at the other end of the platform shimmered in the late summer heat. The middle-aged attendant was reading the newspaper. Otherwise, the station was deserted.

Can’t lie like this all day, dammit. She pulled herself up, and slung her backpack over her shoulder, and slowly climbed up the steps to the ticketing office.

She rapped on the window. “When’s the next train to Ravenna?”

The teller looked up, irritated, from his newspaper. He tapped the glass. The sign read, Italiano, per favore.

“I don’t speak Italian. Non parlo italiano,” she said, carefully enunciating each syllable.

“Mi dispiace.” The teller returned to his newspaper.

“A ticket to Ravenna, un biglietto…” she gestured hopelessly, willing herself not to cry. Wait, crying might be more effective… I can’t believe I’m doing this, she rubbed her nose, humiliated, as tears spilled onto her smudged ticket.

The man set the paper down, and got up from his seat. He motioned for her to wait, and disappeared out the back door.

He returned with a younger man. The young man took the attendant’s seat. “I speak English, signorina. What do you want?”

She sighed in relief. “A ticket to Ravenna.”

He clicked through a few web-pages, and consulted a laminated print-out. “The next train leaves at 8 PM, signorina.”

“Eight tonight? Are you serious?”

“Today is a holiday in Ravenna. The feast of Saint Apollinaris. There is reduced service on trains and buses.” He clicked through a few more web-pages. “Do you want to purchase a ticket for the 8 PM train?”

“How long does this Saint Apollo thing go on?”

“Only today, ma’am. And it is Saint Apollinaris. Apollo is a Greek god. Apollinaris was the first bishop of Ravenna. He was loved by Saint Paul. You must know Saint Paul?”

“Fine,” Emily said. “Whatever. So, trains are running on regular service tomorrow?”

“Precisely.” The manager clicked through a few pages. “Would you like to purchase a ticket for tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll get in awfully late on the 8 PM train…” she leaned her head against the dirty window for a moment and closed her eyes. Only 1 PM, and she was already exhausted. “Where can I stay in Adesso?”

“There is a cheap hotel by the train station, Casa Gioconda.” The young man reached under his desk, and pulled out a map. He circled a spot by the train station, and drew an X through a large square, Piazza Garibaldi. “And if you want something to eat, a bartender at Café Garibaldi speaks English.”

She knew, walking in, that Café Garibaldi was a mistake.

Two tough-looking day-laborers were playing checkers at a table by the door. A tattooed teenage girl was cutting up a sandwich for her dirty toddler. A shabby bartender in his late twenties was humming along with the music on the radio as he frothed a stainless-steel pitcher of milk. His faded T-shirt was fraying at the hem, and his wavy brown hair looked like someone had cut it in the dark. A battered ring glinted on his right hand. Did that mean he was married? She should have paid more attention in Italian Culture 101…

Emily clutched her purse and fell in line, waiting as the bartender made two espressos and a café americano. He wiped down the counter with a damp rag. She swallowed, for a moment feeling faint - the back of his hand was a mess of puckered scar tissue. “Signorina?” he said. “Che cosa vorrebbe, signorina?”

“Un cappuccino. And, uh…” she pointed to the sandwiches behind the counter, as the old frustration bubbled up within her.

“You want a sandwich?” the bartender asked.

She nodded dumbly, trying not to cry.

“Looks like prosciutto crudo…” He peeled back the slice of bread, exposing slivers of dark, smoked raw ham.

“Prosciutto crudo creeps me out. Do you have any regular ham sandwiches?”

“Just prosciutto. But we do have a mozzarella and tomato sandwich. You want that heated up?”

“Yes, please.” She leaned on the counter. “Are you from Minnesota?”

He turned around with the sandwich. “Oh, no,” he said.

She laughed. “What happened to your hand?”

“Bad run-in with an espresso machine.” He set a tiny cup under the machine’s spout, and flipped a switch. “What are you doing in Adesso?”

“I was gonna go into Ravenna, to see the mosaics, but my train was late, so I missed the connection…”

He pushed her cappuccino across the counter. “Your friends need anything?”

“No, I’m just traveling by myself – you see, my friend Will, we were thinking about going to Pompeii, but his girlfriend showed up last minute. They’re off doing the Venice-Florence-Rome whirlwind tour thing. I heard there was some cool stuff in Ravenna, so I thought…” she trailed off. “I know what you’re gonna say.”

The panino machine beeped. “Like what?” he said.

“Like I’m an idiot.”

“I was thinking of something else, actually.” The bartender slid the steaming sandwich on a plate, and handed it to her. “Are you happy?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m fine with it.”

“Fine and happy are different things,” the bartender said. “Are you happy?”

“Fine, then. I’m happy. I’m happy about it. I’m happy that he’s puttering around Venice with Melanie. But what are you doing here? Did you marry an Italian woman?”

“Oh no, I’m not married.”

“Doing a gap year?”

“Sorta.” The man behind her shouted out an order. “Wait a sec,” the bartender said. He whipped up an espresso, and handed it to the customer behind her. “You need someplace to crash? There’s a pensione just a couple streets away. They speak English there. Pensione Mirabilis.”

“The manager at the train station said that there’s a low-budget place by the train station, Casa Gioconda…”

“You don’t want to stay there. It’s not in a good part of town. Stay at Pensione Mirabilis.” He heated up a ham sandwich for the woman behind Emily. “They don’t pay me to advertise, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Emily laughed, and took a bite of her sandwich. “Okay. I’ll stay there. What’s to see in Adesso?”

“There’s some nice frescoes in San Quotidiano.”

“I’m tired of churches. Is there any ancient stuff?”

“There’s some ruins underneath San Stefano. They’re pretty cool. You’ll need to speak to the custodian to see them, though. They’re not normally open to the public… Do you speak much Italian?”

“Zippo,” Emily said.

“Well, I get off at four. I could take you there, if that’s not too late for you.”

“That’s perfect,” she said.

“Come back here at four. I’ll be chilling outside.”

“Who should I ask for?” she asked.

“Signor Prezzo, that’s what most people call me around here,” he said. “But you can call me Tobias. That’s my American name.”

“Really?” she said, halfway through her sandwich. “I’ve never met anyone named Tobias before. That’s gotta be nice for you. I had four Emilies in my fourth-grade class. That was lame.”

"Oh yeah." Tobias set a slice of quiche on a paper plate for a young Albanian woman. “Mom wanted me to be unique.”