Disappear Venice

      I love holding hands.  Something about that act of holding another persons hand can be more intimate than sex.  I especially like holding Danny's hand.  A lot of time he still has paint splattered on his finger tips.  If I turn our hands in a certain way I can still smell whiffs of turpentine from when he cleaned his brushes in the studio.  "Lev!  Lev!" are yo withu us tonight"?  I looked up from our hands at my best friend Emma.  "Yeah I said, I'm here.  Right here."  I must have said it tentatively because Emma gave me a look with her big blue eyes.  "I hope you are thinking about something good" she smiled wickedly.  I gave her a half smile and then looked at Danny who was gesturing wildly while speaking in broken italian to Anthony, who though italian by heritage spoke worse than all of us.

         I glance outside and smiled.  We were in our favorite little hole in the wall bar in Venice.  Emma and I had stumbled upon it our first week here and as our group became solidified we all started meeting here late, after we had finished in the studio.  We were graduate students living in Venice.  All of us were different but somehow as a unit we fit together.  We were all here, letting off steam, grabbing a few drinks.  The owners had gotten to know us, two flamboyantly gay men from Berlin who completed their dream of opening a bar in the city on the water.  I enjoyed seeing them outside of the bar around the city.  Venice was small enough that even people in the periphery of your life came to play roles in your day to day.  They would walk their bull dog together single file in the tight alley's.  I usually saw them early in the morning as I made my way to school. 

         Drinking house red wine I drifted in and out of conversations and realized how happy I was.  In the past six months these people had become my family.  Me and Emma, Danny, Oliver, and Rebekkah.



         

         "Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree"!!  I opened one eye.  "Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree"!!!  It was September.  I purposely torture myself with insanely annoying alarm music on my phone.  "Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree", I opened the other eye and pressed the alarm to off.  "Ouch"!  I cried. "Henry don't bite mama on the nose"!  Big yellow eyes blinked at me with obvious defiance.  Henry is my baby.  All fourteen glorious feline pounds of him.  Though since he was a kitten he can't help himself to biting my nose every morning as a reminder that he's hungry.

         I pulled myself out of bed with sheer force of will.  I shuffled across the wood floor of my cozy apartment.  I had to smile.  This apartment was my sanctuary.  Art books littered the book shelves and art from various friends hung on the walls.  The wood floors were refurbished pine and I could smell the coffee set the night before already brewing in the kitchen.  Henry pranced in front of me with his buff tail wagging knowing that breakfast was on the way.  "Here baby" I said.  As I gave him his food Henry blinked again, but this time I chose to take it as a thank you.  "Your welcome" I said.  I grabbed the remote and flicked on the morning news.  The beautiful blonde newscaster who reminded me a bit of Emma was just finishing another interview with the supposed mistress of another politician.  I shook my head, everyone was so obsessed with other peoples sex lives.  I would personally rather focus on my own, which was non-exsistent at the moment.  I did have my eye on a very handsome lawyer that I saw occasionally working in the office over from where I helped an older woman run her gallery.  I only knew he was a lawyer because Nan who owns the gallery loves to chat as the day gets later.  She more talks to herself than anything else but at 85 and still running your own gallery you could say that she had earned the right to talk even if only to me and even if by 5 in the evening I was only half listening, trying to finish up my work and get on with the rest of my night. 

         I grabbed my favorite coffee cup, colored beautifully by my niece and nephews.  As I started pouring the coffee I was mentally going through the list of things I knew waited at work today.  I froze.  The bubbly blonde newscaster now looked very serious.  "We now have a confirmed report that twenty year old Michelle Walker who was currently spending a semester abroad in Venice, Italy has been reported missing.  We are now going to Brian Shinegood who is currently on the scene in Venice".





         "Hey Em" I asked, "Have you seen Rebekkah yet"?  Emma shook her blond head no and went back to her beer.  "Hey Oliver" I yelled getting his attention, "Have you seen Rebekkah"?  "She's probably still in the studio" Anthony said.  "I don't think so, I just tried to call her and she didn't answer" I said worriedly looking at my cell phone.  "Lev, don't worry"  Emma rolled her eyes.  "I bet she met up with the guy who works at the restaurant in San Stefano."  "What"?  "You think"?  Oliver said trying to act disinterested.  Rachel honed in on Oliver.  "Why do you care Ollie"?  "I don't"!  Oliver retorted back.  "Guys, can we focus?  I'm getting worried".  I check my watch again.  "Danny, it's already eleven.  Rebekkah had a rough critique with Andre today.  He ripped her woodcuts to shred, I don't think....What"?  "Sweetie, do you know how cute you are when you worry about everything and everyone?"  Danny said.  I looked into his green eyes.  As cliche as it was I could get lost in Danny's green eyes, in his smile.  "Come on, let's get another drink" Danny whispered.  "Then when we're done with that drink let's walk to San Marco" his eyes flashed.  "Are you still worried?" he asked  I felt like I couldn't breathe, in a good way.  Danny makes me feel safe, I wasn't worried, I wasn't anything.  I leaned into him, "Buy me a drink".  I shut my eyes, let him grab my hand and pull me towards the bar.





         The coffee was all over the counter, dripping down to the floor.  "Shit!"  I yelled.  "Shit!" I yelled again louder hoping that my shaking would go away if my voice sounded in control.  I stared at the t.v. intently as the newscaster came into focus standing in front of the piazza San Marco.  He was looking particularily somber in contrast to the tourist behind him feeding the pigeons and happily snapping pictures.  "As of 8 o'clock this morning a young woman named Michelle Walker who is a junior at B.U. University studying abroad in Venice, this beautiful city on the water, was reported missing by her roommates.  She was expected to meet them at 11 p.m. last night but never showed.  Her roommates were concerned but figured she was working late on school work.  Unfortunately, the roommates discovered that Michelle had never come home last night and seems to be missing".

         I felt physically sick.  I sat on the floor and put my head between my knees.  I realized I was sitting in a puddle of coffee but I didn't care.  I was dreaming.  I had to be dreaming.  This couldn't be happening.  Henry came over and nudged my hand with his head probably trying to make sure his mommy was still breathing.  I realized I wasn't breathing and I started gulping in air.  I looked back to the t.v. as they were showing a picture.  The picture was of a beautiful girl with long dark hair.  Her eyes seemed to dance with life and she was smiling as if someone had said something funny.  I have seen this picture before.  I was there when the picture was taken.  Though it had been ten years since that picture it felt like no time had passed.  I was back in Italy, back in Venice, I was happy.  The picture on the screen was Rebekkah.



         

         I woke up with the sunlight just barely touching the ratty white curtains.  The bed was only a twin and I could feel Danny's breath on the back on my neck.  I could hear Oliver, Danny's roommate snoring softly.  Danny had his arm firmly around my waist.  Even though the bed was small we always joked that we seemed to fit perfectly in it.  Danny always said the bed was too small if I wasn't in it with him.  Everything about Danny and I seemed to fit perfectly together.  Danny is my first love.  My first everything really.  When I came to Venice the last thing on my mind was a relationship.  Then my first day at school in walks this goofy, tall boy with floppy hair who plops in a chair next to me wearing burkenstocks and looks at me and smiles.  That was it for me.  Now here I am six months later in his bed, completely in love, and feeling his soft breath on my neck.  Danny has changed me.

         I gently put my feet down, threw on Danny's t-shirt that was on the floor and padded on the cold stone floor out of the room and into the kitchen.  All of the windows in the apartment were open and I could already here the early morning sounds of Venice.  The water lapping against stone, metal store doors being unlocked and lifted, steps echoing up and over the bridges, and the rise and flow of Venetians starting their day.  I loved Venice in the morning, the city on the water filled with endless possibilities.  I think I'm going to go to a museum today.

         I heard a knock on the door.  That's strange.  I quickened my pace to get the knocking which was becoming louder and more insistent.  I glanced at my watch.  It was only seven in the morning.  I grabbed the wooden door and quickly unlocked both locks.  Standing before me with wild blonde hair looking disheveled and panicked was Emma.  Before I could ask her what was wrong she blurted out, "Rebekkah is missing".



         

         I haven't thought about Rebekkah in years.  I don't mean passing or fleeting thoughts, those happen everyday.  I mean the kind of thinking that can make you sad.  The what ifs and what could have beens. that you can't change.  I was there when that picture was taken.  Oliver had given the snapshot from our trip to Rome to Rebekkah's parents when Rebekkah first went missing.  Rebekkah was the quiet one of our group.  She wasn't part of a couple, though Oliver would have wanted that more than anything.  She was relatively happy with the regular angst that most artists are born with.  She wasn't the person that I confided in.  Truthfully I was so much in my own world that i'm not sure who was good friends, best friends, with Rebekkah.  I had Danny and Emma.  Danny had me and Oliver.  Emma had me.  I'm not sure who Rebekkah had, but the more I think about it I hope it was someone important.

         I grabbed the phone from the floor and the holder toppled onto my head.  "Shit"! I yelled again wondering why this word was coming out of my mouth so often this morning.  I speed dialed Em.  "Answer, answer" I whispered under my breath.  I desperately needed someone to talk to.  "Hey it's Emma.  You know what to do".  "Crap" I said.  I then remembered that Emma was traveling and probably already in a morning meeting.  "Uhhggg" I groaned.  Calm down Lev.  Chill, it's o.k.  I repeated this again and again in my head.  I punched in the number again and listened to the voice mail.  "Em, Emma, it's Lev.  Call me, K?" "We really need to talk".  I hung up the phone and put the receiver next to me.  I crossed my fingers and waited for her to call me back.  I needed to call out of work.  I wasn't going anywhere this morning.



         Detective Cavalli rushed as quickly as he could through the calle's.  His footsteps echoed but he barely heard them as he dodged umbrellas in the smallest streets in the world.  He was unusually tall for a Venetian which had both it's pro's and con's.  As a detective being tall gave him an edge.  It made him imposing and he was able to get into others people space which he used as often as possible.  Being a detective in Venice was usually wonderful.  He solved petty crimes; tourists who had wallets stolen from the groups of gypsy's, breakins, neighborly disputes.  Murder was not high on the list of crimes needing to be solved.  Cavalli sighed.  He drew in a big breath and reminded himself that this was quite possibly just a girl traveling and not telling her friends.  It wasn't necessarily murder.  Cavalli had a feeling deep in his stomach that this was something more sinister.