They couldn’t stop arguing, she thought, even an ocean away, the same old problems had followed them. Of course, back at home there hadn’t been this added problem of the motorcycle. It hadn’t been her fault that the travel agent had provided an old half-rusted scooter, and it definitely wasn’t her fault that it broke down in the middle of the street on a moonlit Sicilian night. She had wanted to stop and look for a place to stay, but he insisted that they keep going. And then when she tried to point out that they should have taken the other curving, almost identical, small road, he had started to ignore her and finally walked off.
Two pairs of eyes watched his back as he had walked away, soon there was only one. She stood there, where they had been arguing over directions – or was it something more? – and where he had left her with their broken down transport and she had refused to follow. She would go after him soon, she knew her sense of direction was awful, and even on an island she would be hopelessly lost, but let him wait awhile. Looking around the street, well-lit even at night, and taking in the narrow curving road that seemed barely wide enough to fit a car, but the Italians drove them in a mad-dash fashion anyway. A quick glance of light distracted her tourist’s gaze for a moment, the moon or some stray light reflecting off a piece of metal, off some everyday household object probably – but she stayed in the middle of the road, thinking about how her companion would have been frustrated by her daydreaming, he would have insisted they go quickly and straight to their destination. He was always in a rush, and everything was always about the job; if not the current one, then the next one, the elusive big one that would let them leave and finally go wherever they wanted, to see the sights of Italy, not like they were seeing it now. It was all such a lie, she thought, and he could never admit that it was. He was too prideful about his honesty; as she finally started moving, pushing the scooter along, she thought it was good for both of them that she never let a little thing like honesty hold her up.
As he made his way away from the train station, he knew he was being watched. Not by her – she would find her way to the church and he knew pushing her would just make the situation worse; better to just let her stand there and do what she wanted, think or sightsee or whatever she had been saying, as long as she was where she was supposed to be when they needed her – and so far, she had always shown up, at least when it mattered. When the job was as important as this one, it mattered. It was his fault, he kept thinking, that they had gotten involved. He didn’t want her to know how badly he had messed up this time, so he left her to think that the fight was because he didn’t trust her sense of direction. He didn’t, anyway.
Slowing around another corner, he tried to get a glimpse of whoever was watching him. Maybe it was just nerves, or that second cup of espresso on the train; they made it stronger here. Everything was more vibrant, the moon was rounder and even the storms were more ominous. Not that there were any clouds in the night sky now. He couldn’t catch any movement behind him, but he decided it didn’t matter even if there was someone. Any minor nuisances would be dealt with, and he shuddered at the implications. Better not to be a nuisance, at least not this night. He walked on faster, not giving a second glance back and so completely missing the quick glint of light that momentarily caught on metal and was hurriedly covered over again.
After a few more seconds of pretending to push the scooter, she had left it by the side of the road, taking care to act the part of the casual tourist, admiring the night view, and being particularly careful to remain just out of sight of the boy who, she considered musingly, was doing an admirable job of attempting to tail someone as well. It was careless of him, an amateur mistake, to keep such a tight hold of that piece of metal especially on a night with a moon this full. Too bad for him that she was the one they had decided would stay and follow; if she decided the boy was a threat, she wouldn’t hesitate to do what was necessary for the sake of the job. It’s always about the job, she sighed without noise, but that wouldn't stop her from enjoying it.
They would be at the church soon.
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