When In Rome ► Timothée Chalamet

10 | Mouth of Truth

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The Piazza della Bocca della Verità.

The piazza in the summer seemed unreal, the sun reflecting off the clay walls of the buildings. A rustic smell surrounded the busy area, making it feel almost like I was standing in the past. A fountain spouting clear water stood enshrined in the middle of the plaza, it's mist hitting my face as it traveled with the wind.

But amidst all that beauty was the one thing I had been longing to see.

The Mouth of Truth.

A giant, pavonazzo marble plate that had been uprooted from it's spot in the pavement, and mounted on a wall. It was a historic landmark in Rome, dating back to earth's very first century. But the only thing I recognized it from, was Roman Holiday.

The movie I had watched yesterday with Elliot.

"Can we go up closer?" I begged, looking at the boy beside me.

He didn't even ruminate for an answer, he started to push through the crowd to get to the monument. I followed after him in a rush of excitement, the anticipation of seeing a childhood dream come true. Surprisingly the actual landmark itself wasn't surrounded by people, which made the experience even better. I stumbled in front of the statue, my eyes widened with amazement.

"It's beautiful," I said, my mouth agape, "and so much bigger than I thought it'd be."

"It used to be a sewer cover," Timothee remarked, adjusting his satchel, "sorry if that ruined it for you."

"I knew that already," I laughed, "that's why it's made out of pavonazzo marble. Do you know what pavo means?"

"Pavement," he said, tapping his foot against the ground, "in other words, it's a sewer cover."

"Okay, fine, sewer cover," I admitted, taking a step closer to it, "but do you know the story behind it?"

I hadn't suspected him to know the history of the landmark, since it all seemed to happen by chance. The answer to my question danced on the tip of my tongue, remembering the scene in Roman Holiday where Anne and Joe went to visit this place.

"The legend is that if you're a liar," Timmothee started, "your hand will get bitten off."

"Exactly!" I exclaimed, turning to look at him in adoration, "I'm surprised you know that."

Upon coming across this place by chance, he happened to know all about the mouth of truth as well. The boy had earned a tiny bit more of my respect, but not enough to gain him friendship points. He was very abrupt and commanding after all, as I found out when he left me standing alone in the courtyard earlier that day.

"I do live here," he smirked, "remember?"

I rolled my eyes, turning my back to him and facing the giant marble plate. My fingers were drawn to the opening, but a sudden fear overcame me, and I wasn't able to put my hand in. What if it closed suddenly, biting off my hand?

"So you do get scared easily," the boy grinned, "I thought so."

"I do not!" I spat out defensively, "I'm just worried about how many germs are in that thing."

"Germs? Really?" he scoffed, "you're just scared."

"Liar," I accused, "I bet the statue would bite your hand off for saying that."

"Really, now?"

"Really," I pouted, pointing at the opening, "do it."

He stared at me, unblinking, his eyes lighting up with excitement. I knew he was putting on this dramatic show to spite me, but I preferred not to accept that. If the statue bit off his hand, that was his own fault.

I watched eagerly as he slid his hand onto the lip of the marble plate, itching it forward until his whole hand disappeared into the cave .

"See?" he smiled, "I'm not a liar-"

He was cut off by an ear piercing shriek, and it was only till he started to grasp his wrist that I realized it came from him. He tugged at his arm, trying his best to wrench it out of the mouth, but it seemed to have been stuck inside the marble teeth.

"It's got me!" he yelled, "it hurts!"

It all seemed very unreal, but my natural instinct told me to help him. I grabbed his arms with my hands, and started to pull, but his arm was still lodged inside!

"Oh my god!" I rambled, in fright, "it really did bite your hand off!"

"Clean off!"

"It's my fault! I called you a liar!"

"How can I draw without my hand!"

"I don't know! I'm sorry!"

"I can only feel my wrist!" he said, sliding his arm out, "the hand must be gone!"

He pulled it out in one swift tug, and held up the remaining limbs in front of me. But his hand was still very much attached, and unharmed.

"You jerk!" I protested, swatting him with my own hand, "how could you freak me out like that!"

"I couldn't resist," he laughed, doubling back in a fit, "you actually, genuinely, thought it had bitten my hand off!"

"In my defense, it seemed very realistic!"

"Realistic? That a giant stone attacked me?"

"The screaming made me panic," I slumped, crossing my arms, "you would have frightened anybody."

He nodded, his laughing simmering down to a soft smile. He tilted his head, as if to gesture that I give the legend a try. I narrowed my eyes, still not amused by his game, but turned to face the statue again. Taking a deep breath, I raised my hand up and slowly put it into the mouth. The stone was cold, but other than that, my hand was perfectly fine.

"Guess I'm not a liar," I announced, my arm retreating.

"I'll let you believe that," the boy shrugged, biting his lip, "let's get you back to your dorm."

I expected him to go on without me, but he waited till I turned around before he started to walk. It was a small, unnoticeable gesture, but it seemed like an improvement from the past two days. We walked in a pleasant silence up until the hill, before I expressed my gratitude.

"Thank you," I punctuated, "for taking me here."

He nodded, still not saying anything, but I saw something change in his eyes. He didn't need to say anything, because I already knew his answer. He was an interesting boy, Timothee, but I didn't mind.

I didn't mind at all.