Soft Landings: Short Stories from Italy with Love

By Barbara Snow

What motivates people to get on an airplane and fly ten hours through the night to face a new day in a strange land? The reasons may surprise you. A grandmother trying to reconnect with her cynical teenage granddaughter brings her to Venice to show her there’s still beauty in the world. A daughter and son-in-law bring their widowed mother to Florence, hoping to break through the grief that has enveloped her for a year. Best friends, one of whom is battling cancer, spend two weeks on the Isle of Capri, in an attempt to overcome the effects of chemotherapy and fear. A newly divorced 40-something woman goes to Rome to revisit the city she last saw on her honeymoon.
Soft Landings is a collection of seven short stories about American tourists who travel to Italy after experiencing a trauma in their lives. Their expectations are as varied as their backgrounds. They come searching for art, beauty, good food, perfect cappuccino, nice leather jackets and cats. What they don’t expect to find is the connection that each of them will make with Italian people. Like the hotel clerk who helps care for one of them when they get sick, or the illegal immigrant maid who becomes a trusted friend. Or the woman who runs the B&B, working day and night in order to bring her husband and son from India to Italy. Or the drop-dead gorgeous waiter who serves them breakfast each day. Ordinary people who extend extraordinary kindness.
The stories are linked to each other, yet each retains its ability to stand alone as a complete story. The first story, "Flight," reveals a little background of the travelers as they all get on the same airplane bound for Rome. From Rome, our characters go their separate ways, into their separate stories, but rejoin in the story titled "Pompeii." The final story of the series, "Home," lets the reader observe each character as they return to the States, unpack their suitcases and prepare to get on with their lives. A subtle yet profound shift has occurred in each of them, thanks to their time in Italy.
The collection of stories runs approximately 55,000 words.
I believe this is a timely subject and one that will find a willing audience. According to Forbes Traveler, approximately twenty million Americans have visited Italy in the last decade. It is the fifth most popular foreign vacation destination. As the world keeps getting smaller, the shared human experiences of love, joy, and hope are powerful themes that connect us all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barbara Snow
• Release date: Aug 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370504695

Barbara Snow

In the early 60s, when I was 6 years old, my great-uncle Jack gave me the most important gift I ever received; a subscription to National Geographic. Until then, I really had no idea how big the world was. I was hooked. For a while I wanted to be Jane Goodall observing the chimpanzees. Then I wanted to be Richard Leakey, discovering the oldest skeleton of mankind. I wanted to explore the pyramids, visit the Great Wall, see the castles of Europe. I've managed to travel more than anyone in my family ever had the opportunity or inclination to do. It is a passion that only grows stronger the older I get.

Book preview

Soft Landings

Short Stories from Italy with Love

Published by Barbara Snow at Smashwords

Copyright 2016 Barbara Snow

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The World is a book, and those who do not travel, read only a page.

~St. Augustine

Table of Contents

Flight

Return

Relics

Beauty

Capri

Pompeii

Home

About the Author

Flight

My soul is in the sky ~.William Shakespeare

Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Flight 41 nonstop from Minneapolis to Rome will begin boarding in just a few minutes. We will start with first class and those who may need help, including families with small children. Thank you for flying with us today.

Sara watched as a Pavlovian response ensued. People began gathering up suitcases, magazines, jackets, and children, finishing up the last of the food they were eating, checking pockets and purses for their airline tickets and passports, completing phone calls, turning off laptops, and moving towards the boarding gate in a sluggish, yet orderly fashion.

She glanced out the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was already dark at 8:30 p.m. in April. She could see the skyline of Minneapolis in the distance behind the A330 airbus that was waiting to swallow up the two hundred or so people milling about, keeping them hostage for the next ten and a half hours. She turned to her mom, who was sitting quietly holding her new all-purpose rain-or-shine jacket they had bought specially for this trip.

You’re not nervous about flying, are you?

Mom hesitated. I just was trying to think of the last time I was on a plane. It must have been before 9/11.

Then you’re really overdue.

Well, you know your father. He liked to fish, so that’s where we went.

He probably wouldn’t like Italy much. I hear the fishing is lousy. How are those shoes feeling?

It was impossible for Mom to speak more than two sentences without bringing Sara’s father into the conversation. They were married forty-nine years and it was almost a year ago that he died of cancer. Sara still felt a sharp pain in her chest sometimes; she missed him that much.

They feel good.

She had taken Mom shopping two weeks before the trip. The expensive walking shoes and new jacket were a necessity. Mom was shocked at the price, but Sara had insisted.

You’ll want to slip them off during the flight. Your feet are going to swell a little. And you’ll need to get up and walk around the cabin every hour.

Who’s the mother here?

I’m just giving you the benefit of my experience. Hey, I’ll bet you twenty bucks that James gets pulled out of line when we try to board.

Why?

I don’t know why, but when we flew to New York three months ago he got pulled out and they did the wand thing all over his body. Same thing when we flew to Seattle last fall. C’mon, twenty bucks. You want to bet?

Don’t take the bet, Mom, James said. I think my name is on some kind of terrorist wannabe list.

Have you tried to talk to them about it?

Have I tried reasoning with the U.S. Government? James said teasingly. Oh Sara, do something with your mom, she’s hallucinating again.

It’s the mustache, Sara said. He looks suspicious if you ask me.

We need a picture of the three of us, James said, scanning the people around them, spying a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties sitting alone.

Excuse me. Would you mind taking a picture of us? It’s my mother-in-law’s first trip to Italy.

The woman looked up and smiled at James.

Of course, she said taking the camera. So this is your first trip. You must be very excited.

I couldn’t do it if it weren’t for these two, Mom said standing between Sara and James. I’ve always wanted to see Italy.

You’re very lucky. Now let’s have some big smiles.

The three of them grinned as the flash lit up the boarding area.

Is this a business or pleasure trip for you? James asked as the woman handed him back the camera.

Definitely pleasure.

What parts of Italy are you going to?

Rome. I was there a long time ago and I’ve never forgotten it. Where are you headed?

We’re doing the Grand Tour. Rome, Florence, and Venice. Going to show the old girl around, right Sara?

The intercom crackled. Will passenger Kay Lilligren please come to the desk at the front of the boarding area? Kay Lilligren, please come to the front desk of the boarding area.

The woman looked startled.

Oh dear, that’s me. I’d better see what they want. Have a great trip.

Same to you and thanks again.

The three of them watched as she made her way to the front desk.

All alone in Rome, Mom said. That’s a brave woman.

Kay walked to the front desk, skirting the line of passengers who were waiting and stood to the side, next to one of the ticket agents.

I’m Kay Lilligren. She had started using her maiden name after the divorce, but it still seemed foreign to her.

The young woman, dressed in the airline’s standard uniform, looked at her a little anxiously, as though gauging Kay’s general demeanor.

Ma’am, we’d like to move you to a different seat.

Oh. Why?

I’m so sorry, but we’ve got a family with two small children and they need to sit together. We can put you in an aisle seat four rows up.

Kay noticed the two tense adults and two small children standing off to the side of the desk.

I was hoping to look out and see the city of Rome when we fly in for landing. Any chance you’ve got a window seat left so I can do that?

The ticket agent checked her computer. It doesn’t look like it. We’re very full. If you’d like, we’ll be happy to credit your frequent flyer account with an extra 2,500 miles. I’m afraid that’s the best we can do.

The family waited as Kay hesitated, then relented.

That’s fine.

Thank you, the ticket agent said gratefully, nodding to the Italian-looking man and woman standing near the desk. She quickly entered something into the computer and reprinted Kay’s ticket. Kay smiled and nodded to the family.

Grazie mille, the man said, flashing a sweet smile.

Prego, Kay said shyly, pleased to be using her Italian for the first time.

Both adults beamed at her as she took the ticket and left the desk.

Lizzy dear, time to get ready, Grams said. The teenager with her two-toned hair, ripped jeans and ratty-looking sweatshirt was in sharp contrast to her well-dressed grandmother, who wore a beige pantsuit and warm sweater-jacket with embroidered flowers on the front.

Lizzy stood at the window, looking out into the night, iPod turned up so loud that Grams could hear the raucous sounds of the music. She tapped her granddaughter gently on the shoulder to get her attention. You’re going to go deaf if you don’t turn that down.

Lizzy spun around, the usual scowl on her face, and without a word picked up her carry-on and moved toward the line of people who were waiting to board. Grams paused, silently reminding herself of the promise she made not to criticize.

How long is the flight? Lizzy asked not bothering to remove her earbuds.

It’s a little over ten hours and then we change planes in Rome.

It only takes four hours to get to Puerto Vallarta, you know.

I know. But Lizzy, just wait till you see Venice. You’ll be amazed.

How do you know that? You haven’t been there for over fifty years. Maybe it’s crap now. Maybe it’s sinking and we’ll be spending all our time walking around in water up to our knees. You don’t know. It could be really gross.

Venice has been sinking for hundreds of years. I think it will still be around during our stay.

Ten hours. What am I supposed to do during all that time?

The best thing would be to try to get some sleep, dear.

I don’t sleep on planes. I don’t sleep at nine o’clock at night. This is my spring break. All my friends are going to Puerto Vallarta. I want to be with them.

I know, dear. I know.

Lizzy stared at Grams for a long moment before turning her face back to the window.

Kit, do you want me to ask the ticket agent for a wheelchair?

For the last time, I’m not going to keel over just by walking. I’m fine Jen, and really, you have to get it together, darling. This is going to be a wonderful trip. Would I be dumb enough to do this if I weren’t feeling up to it?

Yeah, you would, Jen thought. Dumb and incredibly stubborn.

I didn’t mean it that way. I just want you to conserve your energy. This is always the worst part of the trip, that’s all I meant, Jen said.

Ah, but we are flying first class, so we’ll be fine. Lots of leg room, reclining seats, food served on china plates with real silverware. Can’t you stop worrying and enjoy this?

God knows what that must have cost you.

I could have flown tourist. You didn’t have to spend that much on me.

It’s only money. That’s one of the main things I’ve learned in the last eight months. It’s only money.

You’re going to need it when you get better.

Kit smiled at her and said nothing.

You are going to get better. I will freakin’ kill you if you don’t.

Jen felt the panic bubbling up, that slow feeling of dread that nothing was ever going to be the same again. That horrid, helpless feeling that said something bigger was at work here, something that she couldn’t control, couldn’t undo and couldn’t make better, no matter how hard she tried or how hard she worked or how hard she prayed. The therapist she’d recently started seeing had told her about the five stages of grief, and that what she was experiencing was a natural reaction, but that was no comfort. There was nothing natural about this. It was the most unnatural experience of her thirty-six years.

She glanced at her friend who sat there quietly, still smiling. Other than the weight loss and the gray circles under her eyes, she didn’t look as sick as she was. She’d actually gained a little weight since they had stopped the chemo and radiation three weeks ago and amazingly enough, she hadn’t lost her hair. The doctor had explained that the chemo used for this kind of cancer didn’t cause hair loss.

What a stroke of luck, Kit had said sarcastically.

Jen had played along. Great. I was worried that I’d have to shave my head with you in solidarity.

At her last chemo session, Kit had announced her intention of traveling to Italy to spend some time on the Isle of Capri, staring at the Med until I feel better. The doctor had cautioned her against expecting too much and advised her to wait until they repeated the PET scan in three months. We’ll have a much better idea at that time whether the chemo and radiation are successful, he said. Kit had refused to listen. If the scan shows something bad, there’s no way you’d want me to go. There’s nothing to do right now except wait. I don’t want to wait anymore.

So freaking stubborn. You’re scaring the hell out of me.

Kit and Jen walked slowly to the boarding ramp ahead of all the tourist class passengers. Kit had insisted that Jen accompany her, paying for everything, despite Jen’s objection. Watching out the corner of her eye as Kit walked determinedly up the slight incline into the plane, Jen hoped against fear that this trip would be everything her friend wanted it to be. The feeling of dread followed her into the plane, refusing to stay home.

Kay came prepared for the long flight. She had her journal, a good pen, a large bottle of water, some crackers and cheese, fruit, her guidebooks and a map. Everything she needed to make it through the night, all neatly packed in her new carry-on, along with a change of underwear because you never know where your suitcase will end up. It had been a long time since she traveled anywhere alone, but she still remembered how it felt to land in a new place. A sense of discombobulation, true, but also that feeling of everything being fresh and exciting. She tried to explain it to her three best friends at dinner just before she arrived at the airport.

I want to have my comfort level challenged. I want to see if I can make it in a country where there’s a language barrier.

You could do that at a spa in Mexico, Beth said, pouring each of them the last of the champagne she insisted they order.

I’m not much of a sun worshipper. You know that.

You should come with Patty and me this summer to Alaska, Cindy said. We’re going kayaking on the Kenai River, and camping up near Denali. Patty nodded and finished off her champagne.

I’m definitely not doing that. Besides, there are these really big creatures up there, called grizzly bears, just waiting for people from the lower forty-eight. I’m scared of bears. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but I’m doing exactly what I want to do. And it’s been a long time since I’ve had that chance. So be happy for me. Kay raised her glass and waited for her friends to do the same.

She remembered back to her first trip to Rome, over twenty years ago. There were three seats on each side of the plane. No middle section of six seats. Plenty of leg room too, if she remembered correctly. Not so much anymore. She unzipped her carry-on, and there on top lay Bella, a small, stuffed, orange kitten that belonged to her eight-year-old niece. She smiled as she picked up the toy.

Bella wants to go to Rome with you, Emily announced to Kay while they were making cookies last Saturday night. Emily’s parents had gone to a friend’s wedding and she was spending the night with Kay.

Are you sure? She doesn’t seem like the kind of kitty that likes flying.

Mom said her name is Italian. It means beautiful.

That’s true.

She wants to go with you and you need to take pictures of her at all the famous sites. It’s for school.

It is? What kind of assignment is that?

We have to pick out one of our favorite toys, like a stuffed animal or doll and make up a story about them with pictures. You take pictures of Bella in Rome and I’ll write the story.

How will you know what the famous sites are?

Oh you’ll tell me, ‘cuz you’re a good teacher. Besides, Mom said you might get lonely and Bella can keep you company.

Does Bella have a passport?

Emily giggled.

Kay picked up Bella and her camera. She fastened the seat belt around the stuffed kitten and snapped a picture, smiling the whole time.

She would not be lonely in Rome.

James, Sara, and Mom sat in the front right row of tourist class, which had cost a little more, but had the advantage of an extra few inches of leg room.

Look at this, Mom said gesturing to television monitor on the back of the seat in front of her. Do you have to pay for it?

Nope, Sara said. This is the only way to keep a plane full of people from going stark raving mad during a ten-hour flight. They have movies, nature specials, television shows, concerts, and even some games you can play. James likes the games.

"I had no idea. When your father and I flew to Vancouver for