Taste of Italy

C H A P T E R f i v e

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     "So is this what everyone has to do?" Iris questioned as they continued walking up the steps from the Barberini Metro, an underground train. "To, you know, get to the fountain?"

Dante chuckled and looked down at the sidewalk. "No, not everyone does it." Iris's eyes couldn't stay glued to Dante's or the sidewalk, or even where they were going. She wasn't focusing on anything as her eyes scanned all around the area.

She looked at the buildings and the lights that were scattered around the streets. The buildings were tall, but they weren't skyscrapers. They held at least four to five floors at most, but she didn't know what they were. She had a hunch that they were for everything: apartments, stores, and restaurants.

Even though it became too much to take in, she couldn't complain.

"They use taxis, the bus, or by train. Usually, they'll walk, though," said Dante as he took a deep breath. He continued to look down.

"Walking? What about driving?" She gazed at him for a moment until she went back to staring at the world around her.

"Walking is easier as a lot of things are close by, but driving is harder as you can't find many parking places." He finally looked up and they both met each other's gaze.

"Oh," Iris said softly. That makes more sense. I'm just out to make myself stupid, aren't I?

Being thin had its rewards, but Iris was never the one to exercise. It was a tedious chore that made her wish she could fly wherever she wanted to, whenever she wanted to. Who needed legs when you could get around by air?

But, sadly, that wasn't real.

She looked across the street at a long brick platform that divided the streets. It was like a rounded triangle; the edges weren't pointy but were curved. At the top of the platform was a small fountain.

A statue was placed in the middle: it was of a man, on his knees on some type of platform—like shells?—and the platform was attached to what looked like fish. The man was shirtless, possibly nude, but Iris couldn't tell in the moonlight. He held something in his hands, but she couldn't tell what it was.

His head laid back with the object on his face as if the object held water inside and was drinking it. From the top of it, water shot out and went down the stone, into the shallow pool beneath it.

"Fontana di Tritone," Dante said. From the corner of her eye, she noticed him staring at her.

"Huh?" Iris's head snapped to meet his gaze. Was that what the fountain was called?

"The fountain. That's what it's called." He pointed at the statue.

"Ah." Iris nodded and smiled. "So that's what 'fountain' is called in Italian. 'Fontana.' Hmm . . . sounds like Montana, but with an 'F.'" Damn. Is this making me look even stupider? Her grin became fake instantly.

Dante laughed. "You said it wrong. It's not like Fonta, like the soda, but . . ." He took a deep breath and restarted. "The 'F,' 'O,' and 'N' is like 'phone'—" He pulled out his cellphone from his jacket pocket to point to it, and quickly put it back. "—the rest is like 'tan' but with 'uh' in it. Fontana. It's different."

Iris laughed awkwardly. Just kill me now. "Well, at least I tried, right?"

"It's a start." His voice cracked.