|03| - "Rome wasn't built in a day." -

I'd have had to have been living in a hole-not Italy-in order to remain blissfully unaware of the scepticism surrounding long-distance relationships. Sadly, it seemed that, these days, everyone was more vocal in expressing their unfounded doubts regarding it, rather than adopting a more positive or encouraging attitude.

Countless people had raised a cynical eyebrow when I'd told them I was intending to maintain my relationship while living abroad, almost to the extent that it became annoying. It was as though they were belittling your relationship by saying that it was pointless attempting to keep a romance alive when you weren't living in the same country. By the same token, they were calling you naive and suggesting that it was silly to believe a long-distance relationship had even the remotest potential of working out.

For the most part, I brushed it off with a smile and said that we'd be giving it a go regardless, but what their sceptical reactions actually did was fill me with a fiery desire to prove them wrong. I knew Nathan and I could succeed at this. I knew we were strong enough. Without doubt, it would be difficult at times, but we'd pull through. Then, when we came out the other side, we could face those sceptics with a smile and say to them, "turns out long distance does work, after all."

I was a bundle of excitement as I waited in the arrivals hall at the airport. The large screen informed me that Nathan's flight had finally landed, and I knew it was just a matter of minutes before he walked through those glass doors and we were reunited.

Although three weeks wasn't a huge amount of time to go without seeing one another, it had felt even more intense because of the long-distance situation. Italy and England were more than a train ride away and that instantly made it feel like we were properly separated from each other. On top of that, my first couple of weeks here had been shaky as I tried to find my feet and get used to Italy's many quirks, so it had made me crave Nathan's company and soothing words.

Each time the doors slid open, my heart did a little somersault at the prospect of seeing him walk through. It was, in fact, a decent fifteen minutes later before he emerged, towing his little suitcase behind him. I could instantly tell that something about the flight had irked him but he put a smile on his face as he noticed me behind the barrier, and sped up his pace to greet me.

"Bella." He grinned, letting go of his case to wrap his arms around me.

I wound my own arms around his body, nestling my head in his chest as I inhaled his familiar aftershave. For the first time in two weeks, I felt properly content and relaxed.

As we pulled out of the embrace, Nathan lowered his mouth to mine and gave me a long kiss that would have embarrassed me if we'd been anywhere other than an arrivals hall in an airport.

"How's it going?" he asked me with a cheery smile.

From his expressive eyes, I could tell he was just as happy to see me. I didn't doubt Nathan would miss me, but I knew this experience was going to hit me harder than him. I was the one in an unfamiliar place, by myself; not much in Nathan's life had really changed apart from my location.

"Not too bad," I told him. "How was the flight?"

"Urgh," he scoffed as we headed out of the airport. "What a fucking joke."

"What happened?"

"They made me put my bag in the hold." He shook his head to himself. "It pisses me off because there's no point giving passengers set dimensions for hand luggage if they're gonna make some people put it in the hold anyway. It's just an absolute shambles—so disorganised. We then missed our take-off slot and were just chilling on the tarmac for half an hour."

"Well, you've not come to the right place if you don't like disorganisation," I warned him, perching on a wall to wait for the bus.

"Oh, thanks for the heads up; I'll say my goodbyes now, then," he teased, planting a rough kiss on my forehead.

I shot him a sarcastic smile. "You're here now and that's all that matters."

"True." He flashed me that boyish grin that still made my knees weak. "And I am so excited for you to show me around your new city."

"Well, I mean, it doesn't really feel like my city just yet," I said. "It doesn't feel like home."

I wasn't expecting Bologna to feel like home any time soon, but I couldn't help worrying that I might never feel completely comfortable here. Obviously it was still early days—I'd barely been here a month—so I was bound to feel unsettled with all the cultural, linguistic and environmental differences, but there was a nagging concern that I'd never get used to it. After all, a language barrier was a severe hindrance to it since communication and integration were pretty much the foundations of feeling settled into a community. 

"Rome didn't feel like home until the day I left it," Nathan told me, shifting positions on the wall to get comfy.

He didn't expand on that and simply left me to decipher it in whatever way I pleased. As it happened, I wasn't really in the mood for riddles.

"Is that for some deep reason, or did it just coincidentally take you that long to settle in?"

Wrapping an arm loosely around my waist, Nathan chuckled. "I've missed your sense of humour, Bella."

"I'm not being funny; I'm just already feeling like this year is going to be ten times harder than I anticipated."

"Bella, you've been dreading this year for months," Nathan reminded me. "It's not that it's harder than you expected, it's that you were hoping it wouldn't be this hard."

He might have missed my sense of humour, but I'd missed his second-to-none in depth understanding of me. Sometimes, I felt like Nathan knew me better than I knew myself. Unfortunately, that just made the feeling of love for him burn hotter inside me and, since it was our first day together, I didn't want to already get upset at the prospect of him leaving again.

☼

After battling with the lock—to which there was obviously a knack that I'd not yet discovered—I pushed open the flat door and was immediately struck by the strong aroma of Jasmine's cooking. The smell of spices accompanied music playing from the radio, courtesy of the one channel we'd been able to pick up. 

"That smells good," Nathan said.

"If you just dump your case here then I'll introduce you."

He followed me through the living room and into the kitchen, where the aromatic scent intensified. Seeing me enter, Jasmine quickly flicked off the radio and wiped her hands on a tea towel before turning down the temperature of the hob. Like most things with her, cooking was second nature to Jasmine.

"Hey." She smiled at Nathan, holding out her hand. "You must be Nathan. Good to finally meet you."

"Likewise," he said, returning her smile and shaking her hand firmly. "I must say, it was very generous of you to cook dinner for us all."

I rolled my eyes at his joke but Jasmine just laughed. "Unfortunately, I don't think you'd be able to afford the prices I charge at the Restaurant of Jasmine."

"I suppose I should be saving my money for flights, eh?" Nathan grinned down at me, throwing his arm around my shoulder.

I smiled back but an uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. Nathan might be in a full-time job earning a decent amount, but a certain percentage of his pay check immediately went towards flights. This long distance thing wasn't just hard on the heart; it was hard on the wallet, too.

"Shall we unpack?" I suggested. "We don't want Jasmine's food to burn."

Jasmine looked as though she was about to tell me that her food was far from burning, but then she obviously realised that Nathan and I might want some time alone together. With the introductions out of the way, I gave Nathan a tour of the flat.

"It's really nice," he said as we finally made it into my bedroom. "Pretty spacious for two people, as well."

"Yeah, we did strike quite lucky with it," I agreed, shutting the door.

Nathan dragged his suitcase over to the far side of the bed—the half he always slept on—and then gazed out of the window. It wasn't an amazing view, but you could see part of the cobbled street below and it was good to people-watch, as well as listening to everyone go about their everyday business. 

"And it's great you've got a double bed," he added, moving to sit on the edge of it. He immediately grimaced as the bed creaked loudly under his weight. "But that's not good."

"I know," I said. "We'll have to use the floor."

Nathan pulled a face at that suggestion. "Why? Jasmine's constantly at it, isn't she?"

"Yes, but I never hear her. I'd be way too embarrassed if she heard us and I wouldn't be able to concentrate or relax because I'd be entirely focused on the noise."

Nathan kept his eyes on me as I said all this; I waited for him to disagree or offer a solution but instead he just shrugged casually, letting it drop. Keen to move on, I helped him to unpack and we discussed ideas for what we could spend the weekend doing.

"I do need to go shopping," I told him. "I didn't know what your plans were so I've not bought any food yet."

"That's fine," he said. "How about we go out for dinner tonight and then we can go shopping first thing tomorrow morning?"

"Sounds like a plan."

☼

"Is it too corny to have Bolognese for my first meal out in Bologna?"

I laughed. "Well, I think you'd struggle to find a restaurant here that doesn't serve Bolognese."

"I'm liking it so far, though," Nathan said as we strolled through Piazza Maggiore.

All the buildings were lit up, creating a real ambiance as their lights illuminated the large square. The faint sound of music flooded through the air from street performers further along as they played their instruments in return for tips. Italian men, dressed head to toe in designer suits, stood in groups as they theatrically conversed with one another, a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

"Did you prefer life in Rome?" I asked Nathan as we paused to read a menu.

"In what way?" he replied, his eyes skimming the dishes on offer.

"I feel like people enjoy life more here," I told him. "Everyone is out and about. Apart from a messy night at the pub, you wouldn't get that as much in England, would you?"

Nathan shrugged. "I guess not, but then the weather in England doesn't really allow it. The drinking culture is different, too. In England, a lot of people drink to get drunk. Here, you drink to enjoy decent wine and relax."

It was true. Most people in the square were drinking, but nobody was getting rowdy. Granted it was only eight in the evening, but there was no rush to down drinks and no boorish chanting. People were civil, very Italian.

"So, do you like the look of this menu?" Nathan asked me, drawing my attention back to the task at hand.

I quickly gave it a skim myself, although my current knowledge of Italian food wasn't that strong.

"What's carciofi?" I asked him.

"Artichokes."

"And melanzana?"

"Aubergine."

"Hmm," I said in contemplation. "Well, there are certainly pasta dishes on there that I'll like."

Nathan laughed. "Bella, you're going to be spending your whole year eating pasta. Why don't you choose something different, like one of the meat dishes? Here, they've got veal; you'd like veal."

"Nathan, it's, like, twenty euros."

He rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter. Let me treat you. This is my first trip out here and I want our first meal in Bologna together to be special..."

At that moment, an Italian waiter scurried over, obviously noticing his opportunity to poach us. Before I could object, Nathan had requested a table for two people and we were ushered into the restaurant. We sat down in our allocated seats and I watched in bewilderment as Nathan had a fast and furious exchange with the waiter. If it wasn't for the fact I picked up the odd word, such as wine, menu and five minutes, I'd have been totally lost.

When the waiter left, Nathan shot me a friendly smile and picked up his menu. I sighed to myself, prompting him to ask if I was okay.

"I feel like I'm never going to be able to talk like that," I admitted.

"Bella, you've only been here a few weeks," Nathan reminded me. "Give it time. Rome wasn't built in a day, you know."

"It's not just the vocabulary, though," I said. "It's the speed you speak, the accent, the way you don't have to process what he's said to you before responding... And more than anything, it's just the way you talk—like, in such an attacking way."

"You'll pick it up, don't worry."

I didn't have much hope but I let it drop, determined to enjoy our first evening together. As Nathan had suggested, I chose the veal and he went for some kind of chicken dish. While we waited, Nathan asked how my classes at the local university were going.

"I've not got a clue what's going on half the time and the teachers still terrify me."

"How's the translation class going?" he asked.

The waiter reappeared with our bottle of Barbera and poured a small amount into our glasses. I waited until he'd left before continuing.

"That's the one I dread the most," I said. "I got away with it last week because I said I was an Erasmus student, but I can't keep saying that. I'm just so worried it'll be humiliating."

Translation classes were something I'd quickly decided I didn't like. While in England you'd work through a translation in your own time, here you did it orally, on the spot-and in front of the whole class.

To my horror, I'd sat in that first class and watched as each student read out a line of the text in Italian and then translated it into Spanish straight afterwards. My heart had thumped violently in my chest as my turn came ever closer and, when the teacher did point at me, I just about managed to splutter out a sentence in Italian to explain that I was an Erasmus student. He hadn't pressed the matter and simply moved onto the next student, but several Italian girls had turned around to look at me, as if I was a different species. I'd wanted the ground to swallow me up and spit me out back in England.

"You'll get used to it," Nathan said.

We moved on to cheerier topics to lighten the mood, and that was certainly helped by the addition of wine. As expected, my veal was divine and it did make a nice change from the regular pasta meals I'd been eating. Nathan swore that when we went shopping tomorrow, he'd force me to buy different food to vary my diet.

"There's nothing really wrong with pasta, though, is there?" I said. It was supposed to be a rhetorical question but Nathan, as ever, had an answer for everything.

"It's full of carbohydrates. You'll get fat."

With a twinkle in his eye, he fired a playful wink across the table at me and lifted his wine glass to his lips, tilting the smooth red liquid into his mouth.

"If that were truly the case," I countered, "you'd see a lot more overweight Italians. You don't, though, do you, and pasta is a staple part of their diet."

"No need to get defensive, Bella. You know I'll love you no matter what."

I rolled my eyes and placed my knife and fork side by side to signal I'd finished eating. As per usual, Nathan's hungry eyes burned into the remaining potatoes that I'd left. Having been together for so long now, I only had to nudge the plate an inch in his direction for him to take the hint and transfer the potatoes from my dish to his own.

"Have you been eating pasta every night, then?" he asked me once he'd polished off my leftovers. Clearly he wasn't too worried about his carbohydrate intake...

"No... Not every night," I said. "I mean, Jasmine and I have got pizza a few times."

At that, Nathan's eyes snapped up to meet mine. He raised his eyebrows. "Are you serious? Could you genuinely be living a more stereotypically Italian life?"

"Well, it's stereotypical for a reason," I shot back. "I'm immersing myself in the culture."

This time it was his turn to partake in the eye-rolling. Sighing to himself, he shook his head and drowned the last dregs of his wine before arranging his cutlery in the same neat formation as mine.

"Well, if that's how you intend to go about your year abroad, then I at least expect you to learn all the different types of pasta. Maybe, if you're feeling adventurous, you could even mix up which pasta you have each night! Penne one night, fusilli another..."

General mocking was something I'd grown used to, but a sense of competition was an even stronger part of our relationship.

"Sure," I said lightly, playing along. "It wouldn't be too hard to find seven different types of pasta-one for each day of the week."

"It wouldn't be too hard to find one for each day of your year abroad," Nathan corrected. "There are hundreds of them."

"I'd go broke before then."

Nathan shrugged, accepting this. Needless to say, that acceptance didn't come hand in hand with his willingness to accept defeat.

"Okay, instead then, I challenge you to learn all the different types of pasta. That can be my personal year abroad challenge to you."

I let out a small laugh. "Right... So, rather than improving my speaking and listening skills, increasing my self-confidence, gaining cultural awareness, or establishing independence in a foreign country, your challenge to me is to memorise types of pasta?"

A small smile played at the corners of his lips. "Is that too difficult for you?"

"You just said there were hundreds."

He cocked his head to the side as he considered this. Eventually, he appeared to acknowledge the lack of realism that his challenge presented.

"Okay, just thirty, then. And don't complain about thirty because that's barely anything. It's just a drop in the ocean of pasta."

"You're on," I said, accepting the challenge with a confident smile. "Perhaps I won't return to England with enhanced Italian skills, but I'll most definitely be an expert in the field of pasta."

Nathan laughed and extended his arm to tap his glass against mine. "I can't think of a field you'd rather specialise in, Bella."

As we continued to laugh and joke over our remaining wine, no doubt annoying the waiters who were hoping to vacate our table to make room for more customers to spend money in their restaurant, I began to feel myself relax more over the prospect of spending the year in a different country to Nathan.

Maybe it was the effect of the wine, or maybe it was the knowledge that things between Nathan and me would unlikely change through the time apart. We still connected well, we still had fun and we still had that chemistry—which we'd no doubt be exploring when we headed back to the flat. 

Rather than worrying that the distance would come between us, I needed to focus on the positive aspects that distance could bring: a new appreciation of our time together, the excitement of exploring a new country together, and an even stronger spark through lack of being around one another.

When I thought of it that way, the year should be a piece of cake and the long-distance business should be fun. And, if I kept up that attitude, maybe I'd be able to get through the year.

☼☼☼

Thank you for reading :) xx