Ciao for now, p.26
Ciao For Now, page 26
“But I want you to be one of my priorities, too.” My words shock even me. Still, I said them. I can’t take them back, and I wouldn’t if I could. The silence that follows feels like the longest I’ve ever endured, even though it only lasts a few seconds.
“And I’d like you to be a priority for me,” he says. My heart soars. It doesn’t get far. “But I just don’t see any scenario where you and I can work.”
I swallow my disappointment and it goes down like a knife as Matt goes on, “I’m not going to lie. When we were in Rome, I did think we could figure something out. Or maybe I just thought that way because it’s what I wanted. But after you left, and I thought it through, there’s no way we could play this out where we both win. I’m in LA and you’re in New York. Plus, you know what I’m like. It would only be a matter of time before you got sick of me.”
“That’s not true,” I tell him, my voice barely audible.
“Listen, I’m sorry, but I really should go. I hope everything works out with the contest. You’re very talented and it’s only a matter of time until the world sees it, too.”
This is it now. The real goodbye. The very last one. I don’t want it to be, but it is.
“Thanks, Matt,” I squeak out. “And if you ever do go ahead with writing Violet and Me Take Capri, I expect a lengthy shout-out in the acknowledgments.”
He doesn’t answer right away, and it makes me wonder if it’s because he’s smiling. I hope it is.
“Take care, Violet.”
“You, too.” I hang up fast so I don’t have to hear the line go dead, and I slowly place the phone back onto the cutting table. I wish I could go back. I wish I could change things, but at least I tried. Matt’s worth trying for. If he took anything from my call, I hope it’s that.
Feeling like I could stand here and stare at my phone for another hour or two, naively hoping that Matt will call back, I force myself to move away. Step by step, I make my way to the table where I left Louisa’s fabric. I unroll it a bit, running my hand over the smooth surface, because how could I not? It’s incandescent and it feels right, but as I shift my eyes to the muslin on one of my dress forms, I can’t imagine the dress I was working on in this fabric. I look harder and harder, but I can’t find it.
I close my eyes and take a breath. A stream of moments flash in front of me from my time in Italy. There are so many memories to choose from. I move through them all until I land on the one that sings. The one that I’m not ready to leave. It’s the night Mira took me to meet with her eclectic circle of friends in the apartment above Louisa Tessuti. I almost feel like I’m there now. We’re talking and we’re happy and, in this world, designing isn’t a source of anxiety—it’s a source of joy. A source of pleasure.
I open my eyes and an idea starts to form in the back of my mind. I pick up the fabric and carry it with me as I start pacing around the workroom. Minutes pass and the idea grows. It gets clearer. I think of everything I love about designing and the rush I get when I create something that’s entirely new and uniquely me. I take those emotions and I’m ready to run with them, implicitly trusting that they’ll take me where I need to go.
Rushing to the nearby desk with my sketchbook, I fling it open. A small smile appears on my face as I furiously start to sketch, and a thought occurs to me for the first time in a long time...
This is going to be fun.
21
I’ve only ever done one runway show before, but this one feels infinitely different. With my other show, it was the end of the school year—our final collections. I was riddled with doubt, and I was terrified. I’m scared now, too, but it’s the kind of scared that tells you you’re about to do something important. Something that will change things. There’s obviously more at stake this time. Today I’m competing and whatever the outcome is, my future is going to be different because of it. But for once in my life, I’m not struggling against the current. I’m not floundering. I don’t need a life vest and I’m ready for what’s to come.
We’re in the school auditorium that’s filled to the brim. Families, friends, faculty, students—everyone is contributing to the beating pulse of the event, and I try to enjoy it as much as I can. The show is scheduled to start any second as Marco, Holly and I run around like mad, tweaking our final looks. We check every hem and every zipper. No loose thread is left uncut.
Marco is the first to show and his collection is just as drop-dead dazzling as we all anticipated. Bold colors pop and captivate—bright pink and lime green. Each look he sends down is a stunner. There are voluminous sleeves, sheer panels and dramatic silhouettes. Each of them highlights his impeccable skills. His finale piece, an all-black tulle ball gown, is the textbook definition of a show stealer, and as he walks out behind all his creations to never-ending applause, I couldn’t be happier for him.
Holly goes next, and her collection of luxury ready-to-wear looks are so beautiful and well thought out that it seems impossible to believe it was made by a student. Using a muted pastel color palette, her originality and tailoring shines. Her garments are understated and elegant and I want all five of her pieces in my closet. Stat.
I’m the last to go, currently standing backstage and reminding myself to breathe. I’ve already done last looks. The models are lined up and waiting. I sneak a peek out and see the judges—a panel of three teachers and a representative from Lilli B. Adding in Lorenzo’s decision in Italy, there will be five votes total. Five votes to decide who wins the competition and gets the job. Five votes to point us toward our futures.
A second later the lights go out, and the auditorium is suddenly filled with the booming sound of thunder and rain. I smile in the darkness. Here we go.
The spotlight roars to life, hitting the runway as upbeat music blends with the storm sounds that are pouring from the speakers. There’s a collective gasp from the crowd as my first model strides out. While it was listed in the program, no one fully expected to see a lingerie collection.
Each of my pieces is made or partially made from the midnight blue silk from Louisa, and each was inspired by someone I spent time with while I was in Rome. The models have been made to look like they just stepped in from a light rain. Their feet are bare. This collection is all about celebrating yourself and I want everyone walking to feel as comfortable as possible.
My first piece, which I think of as the PFL—Professor Francesca Leoni—is a soft, sensual, long-sleeved bodysuit that highlights the wearer’s natural shape. It can be worn as an intimate item or in public, and once things slow down, I will immediately be making one for myself.
Next is my Louisa—a two-piece bra and panty set. It has intricate ruffle detailing around the cups and the high-rise bottoms, combining softness and comfort with everyday versatility. The model may also be wearing a pair of glasses attached to a faux gold chain because I couldn’t help myself.
The Mira is next to hit the runway. The bra has a ruffled trim that’s carried over from the Louisa, and a thick, supportive band. It’s matched with a panty that emphasizes the hips’ curvature and was inspired by what Mira said about everyday lingerie being a romantic secret with herself. In my head, I call this set the secret romantic.
My Marie follows, and it’s one of the more detailed pieces with a scallop-trimmed half-cup bra and a scalloped hipster panty. It can be worn and enjoyed with or without un amante—and I like to imagine that the real Marie would use it in both scenarios.
My finale piece, the Violetta, is a silk bodysuit with a pleated, ruffled, sheer top worn over it. It’s my spin on a classic lingerie staple and I love it wholeheartedly. I named it after me because my collection was based on people I met in Rome, in a big way. I met myself there, too. I met part of myself that I never would have known if I hadn’t gone. For a hidden touch, I have the model holding the original fabric square that Louisa gifted me. It doesn’t mean anything to the people in the audience, but it means the world to me.
Once the last model returns backstage, all five step out again to walk one after the other. Feeling prouder than I’ve ever felt, I head out with the model wearing my finale piece. She passes me the fabric square as we clasp our hands together, and I keep it safely with me as I wave to Daniella and Calvin, who are cheering wildly in the audience.
When the show ends, the lights turn on and the auditorium spills over with chatter. Holly, Marco and I join the crowd, finding our friends and family. Mira tells me she was blown away by my collection and we make plans to meet for dinner a few hours later. Daniella has only just released me from a ferocious bear hug when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and my breath catches.
“Professor Leoni!” My initial excitement morphs to minor fear when I try to gauge what Matt might have told her.
Not much, judging from her kind eyes and the sweet way that she says, “Violetta.” I all but fall into the hug she initiates, closing my eyes for the briefest second and pretending that we’re back in Rome. The daydream is over as quickly as it started, and soon we’re stepping apart to greet each other with smiles once again.
“It’s so incredible to see you,” I tell her. “How are you?”
“I’m wonderful, just wonderful,” she says. “Of course I couldn’t miss the show. Having the three of you stay with me was such a special time and I am so proud of all of you.”
Her words fill me with a maternal warmness that I didn’t realize I was lacking since my parents moved. It’s magical to have her here in front of me. For the past month I’ve been caught up in a hectic New York fog, but this woman is pure Italian sunshine.
I’m flustered by the emotion brought on by her arrival, but I smile through it, so she doesn’t get the wrong idea. “I can’t believe you came to the show. You just made this the best day ever.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” she replies. “Your pieces were lovely. I especially enjoyed the rain aspect you included. It really helped to set you apart.”
The rain aspect. A last-minute addition. Another hidden touch. “I called the line pioggia,” I tell her a little quietly. “It just seemed to fit.”
Professor Leoni smiles. I know she isn’t privy to the deeper meaning behind the word, but it almost seems like she is. “I had originally hoped that Matteo would be attending with me today, but, as I’m sure you know, he’s in California now.”
As I’m sure you know.
Realization hits and I don’t know how to interpret it. Maybe she’s privy to more than I thought.
“I’m so sorry,” I hear myself saying, wondering how much or how little I should reveal. “I should have said something, but with Matt and I...”
She holds up a hand to stop me. “Before you go on, just know that Matteo has never told me anything. Whenever I mention you to him, he closes up like a clam. My son has always been incredibly discreet, sometimes to his own detriment.”
I don’t know why but hearing her talk about Matt sends a helpless kind of longing ricocheting through my chest. It reminds me that he exists, but not for me.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “We’re not together anymore. Officially, we never really were, but we definitely aren’t now.”
She only gazes at me. I’m not sure if she’s waiting for me to add more, and before I can help it, words just start to fall out of me.
“It’s my fault. At first, I hated him, and he probably liked it that way. I think he found it entertaining. But the more we talked and the more I got to know him, I realized he wasn’t what I thought. Because the thing of it is, Matt’s amazing, isn’t he? He’s smart and generous and yes, sometimes he’s also insufferable, but so am I. And, for some reason, he liked me back, but I screwed it up. I’m sure it’s better this way. I’m too dramatic and he’ll find someone who’s rational and who has their life on track.” I can feel myself starting to ramble, so I try to dial it back before going on. “I just want you to know that I’m sorry for seeing him behind your back. I don’t regret liking him, but I should have been open about it, and I hope that someday you can forgive me.”
After a short pause, a knowing smile appears on the professor’s face.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she says. “I was sure you and Matteo were interested in each other from the very first night. Sparks like that don’t just go unnoticed.”
I take a guilty breath in as she continues.
“I know my son, and it was clear that he was different in Rome, and it wasn’t hard to guess that it was because of you. I just chose not to mention it as it was happening.”
“Why?” I ask her.
She offers me a tiny shrug. “Why should I? You’re both adults. And after so many years of watching Matteo just going through the motions of life, it was wonderful to see him happy.”
A spark of hope ignites inside me, but I make quick work of smothering the flame, leaving only a cold trail of smoke in its place. I made Matt happy once, but those days are gone.
I go to speak, but it takes a few seconds. “Right. Well, like I said, I screwed it up.”
“No love story is perfect,” the professor gently replies. “And regardless of whether or not this one is over, you shouldn’t doubt that it was a love story. Even if it was a short one.”
I take a breath and give her another hug, all of a sudden feeling like she and I are now the ones who are breaking up.
“You really are one of the nicest people I’ve ever met,” I say into her shoulder. “And I still can’t believe that you’re even talking to me.”
I move away and find her gazing at me with her perpetually affectionate grin.
“A long time ago I promised myself that anyone my son cared about, I would care about as well. For years my husband’s parents were never kind to me. And even though he always stood up for me and he carried it well, I know it took a toll on him. I swore that was something Matteo would never experience. And lucky for me, he only chooses to care about extraordinary people.”
She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.
“You’re a brave woman,” I tell her. “I would be so intimidated if my husband’s mom was hostile toward me. How did you stand it?”
“Please,” she says through a little laugh. “I may be soft-spoken for the most part, but people would be wrong to mistake my kindness for weakness. I know my mind and I know my heart, and no one was going to tell me who I could or couldn’t love. In this world there will always be people who will try to convince you that you don’t deserve happiness and that you shouldn’t be able to have whatever you want. Don’t let yourself be one of those people.”
I smile and squeeze her hand back. “I hope we can keep in touch.”
“I’ll make sure we do. I’ll be back in New York sometime in October. You and I will get lunch. Marco and Holly as well. The whole group.”
She releases my hand and kisses each of my cheeks in farewell. “Ciao, Violetta.”
“Ciao,” I echo back. She walks away in a whoosh of her trademark burst of color, moving ethereally through the sea of Manhattanites that seem forever garbed in black.
“Who was that?” Daniella asks, arriving at my side. “Is it weird that I don’t know her but I want to be her friend?”
“Not weird in the least,” I answer. “I want to be her friend, too.”
* * *
An hour later Marco, Holly and I walk out of the classroom where the panel of judges convened to give us their decision. As soon as the door closes behind us, Holly and I take turns locking Marco up in a celebratory hug.
“Congratulations,” I tell him, meaning it with every fiber of my being. “You earned this. Your collection was out of control.”
“It really was,” Holly agrees. I’m a little jarred for a second that she even acknowledged my comment. This is the closest she’s come to speaking to me in a month. She must notice me noticing and quickly diverts her eyes from me to Marco. “For real. I thought my pieces were the best I’ve ever done and your work legit made them look like trash bags.”
“They did not,” Marco insists. “Your work was amazing. Everyone’s work was. I’m going to assume that it was a three-way tie and they ended up picking my name out of a hat.”
“You’re a very good friend for believing that,” I tell him. “But there’s no way that it’s true. And now you should go and celebrate like the winner you are.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I am. Derek and I are going to my parents’ house. I will be making a vat of sangria and my mom is cooking all my favorite foods, and if everything goes according to plan, I will be passed out in bed and living my best life by ten.”
“You are the oldest twenty-two-year-old in the world,” I tease.
“I’m well aware. Now, let’s take all the emotions we’re feeling right now and channel them into something productive. Communication is key in any relationship, so I’m leaving you two to chat and work out your issues because we’re getting together for dinner next week, and this continued tension is stressing us all out. I have faith in you both. Let the healing power of fashion bless this union. Buona sera.”
And then he’s off, disappearing down the hall and leaving Holly and me awkwardly looking at each other like two people trapped in a doorless elevator.
“I loved your collection,” I tell her a few seconds later. “Any of your pieces could be sold in stores tomorrow. Before she left, my sister told me to tell you that if you ever start taking orders, she’ll be the first in line. And she distinctly said it with an insistent edge to her voice, so I know she means it.”
A small but grateful smile appears on Holly’s face. “That’s very nice. And you can tell her that since she’s the sister of one of my friends, she’ll obviously get preferential treatment.”
I allow a glimmer of optimism to break free in my expression. “Does that mean we’re friends, then?”
