One Winter Weekend

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

L ucy woke on Saturday morning feeling strangely refreshed.

She wasn’t sure what had changed overnight, but somehow as she stretched and stood in front of her window, gazing down at the canal below, she somehow felt lighter, brighter, and full of excitement for the rest of the weekend.

She chalked it up in part to the delightfully fluffy mound of blankets and pillows on her bed—a good night’s rest always made her feel so much better about things—and partly to her visits to the Basilica and Murano the day before. She couldn’t exactly explain why, but seeing something so magnificent made her feel a little better about her own small problems. Even if her relationship had crashed and burned, there was still so much beauty to enjoy in the world, so why should she mope? She felt ready to get out and enjoy herself.

She hummed a little to herself as she dressed, pulling on warm black pants and a black turtleneck sweater with her boots and coat. She slightly regretted not bringing anything more colourful with her; she’d been in a bit of a funk when she packed. She pulled her blonde hair up into a French twist and added her everyday diamond stud earrings. On impulse, she popped down to the front desk and asked for the nearest chemist.

Twenty minutes later, she stood in front of the glass window of the shop, surveying her reflection as she applied red lipstick from a freshly purchased tube. She looked over her appearance with a small amount of satisfaction. The lipstick seemed to make all the difference in the world. She no longer saw a sad post-breakup woman in the mirror; now she saw a sassy single gal out to have a fun holiday weekend in a foreign city. Just this thought excited her.

She had a new sway in her step as she popped into a small coffee shop for a frothy hot coffee and biscotti. The only Italian she knew was ‘ grazie ’ but she grinned nonetheless as she thanked the girl at the counter for her food. Sipping the coffee and munching on the crunchy-sweet biscotti, she set off down the street to the nearest dock to catch a vaporetto.

Lucy made it a point to visit museums and art galleries in any city she visited, and her main destination today was the Gallerie dell'Accademia—an amazing collection of artwork that spanned back over centuries, and included work by the sixteenth-century Venetian painter Titian—followed closely by a trip to the Peggy Guggenheim collection, which boasted a dazzling array of more modern art by American and European artists alike, including Picasso and Jackson Pollack. She was certain the museums would hold her for most of the day. After that, she could spend her Sunday doing a bit of leisurely souvenir shopping—what better Christmas gifts to bring home than genuine Italian stuff from Venice? Then, she thought sadly, she would return to the bridge and do what she came here to do.

The Gallerie proved every bit as involved as her guidebook had promised, and the hours flew by as she toured the various rooms. The tour was guided, but the group that day was fairly small, so she was able to linger and enjoy the various pieces of art. At one point she thought she saw a man who reminded her of Dominic in one of the adjoining rooms, and for a moment she wished he could be there to share the tour with her, but she quickly pushed that thought aside. Today is for me to enjoy the present, not linger on the past.

In one of the rooms, surveying Giorgione's Tempest , Lucy found herself near an English couple. She commented casually on the artwork and hearing her Irish accent, they immediately introduced themselves, and the trio quickly fell into small chat about all they’d seen in the city.

“We’re here as an early Christmas present to ourselves,” the man who was called Max explained, beaming at his wife. “It’s our first outing since our daughter was born.”

“Oh! You have a daughter?” Lucy had always loved the idea of having a little girl. “How old?”

“Eight months.” His wife, Naomi was clearly a proud mum, pulling up pictures on her smartphone to show off. Lucy made appropriate compliments on the little girl’s cute looks and wide smile. “Is it hard to be away from her?”

Naomi hesitated for a moment. “A little,” she confessed. Max looked like he wanted to say something but wisely didn’t, and Lucy guessed that it was harder than the mother wanted to admit. She tactfully changed the subject. “What’s been your favourite sight in Venice so far?”

“I think the bell tower at St. Mark’s Square,” Naomi said dreamily. “The view makes you feel like you’re looking at a postcard. It’s such a romantic city.”

Yes, it is, Lucy thought with a pang. She couldn’t help envying the couple a bit for their romantic trip. It was clear they were relishing the time spent together, without the demands of parenthood interrupting their time together. She supposed that was one perk to the single life—no worries about other people imposing on your routine, especially “people” of the nappy-and-bottle variety.

Naomi was asking Lucy about her own trip to the city, and she struggled for a moment to explain what she was doing there. She finally settled on the generic half-truth “It’s a gift to myself” rather than explaining that she was there to forget about love lost. It seemed like too sad a tale to share with strangers, especially those celebrating their own happy romance.