I’m waiting in line at customs at the international airport in Genoa to get on our flight back to the United States. I’m so tired. I was up all day with Arachne at that beach. Well, why not? I came here to see her, after all. But then it took me forever by boat to return to the hotel. Then I had to board a train to the airport. Now it’s night, my usual awake time, and we’re spending forever standing in this line.
My boyfriend yawns.
“Oh, you’re tired?” I say. “Please.”
“It was a fun time, Gorgi,” he says, finishing another yawn. “Thanks for not turning me away.”
“How could I? You bought your ticket behind my back.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me to leave. And it was so much fun, wasn’t it?” He kisses my cheek.
No, not really. But I say, “yes.” And I snuggle in his arms.
“I wish you could have enjoyed it like I did.”
Of course, he knows everything now. After the whole jump onto the ice under helicopters thing, it was hard to avoid talking about Arachne. And he’s already met Cora and Hades. So he knows my trip was complete shit. Now I just want to get through all these lines and head back home, where it’s safe.
Then, wouldn’t you know it, he points to a TV screen mounted on a wall in the airport. It shows helicopters hovering over ice. There’s a dark speck, my friend Arachne, skating with her spider legs in the center. They throw the white-roped nets. My body with granny pants and a sweater appears, jumping on the ice, for a split second, then the footage stops. It’s not long enough for anybody to see my hair, thank God. Hades had his hands in that. The camera then pans to the ice, and everything collapses. Water is thrown in the air, and the docked boats are seen rocking like crazy from the resulting turbulence in the bay.
Portofino. I don’t think my experience was quite like any other.
“Can I see your bag, signora?” asks an officer. We’re at the front of the line. She gestures to a table and is all smiley.
Uh-oh.
I was dreading this. I’m not a very good smuggler, you know. I’m a very neat person, but I tried to make my bag a mess so no one digs too deep.
I slowly pull the bag off my shoulder and unzip it for her on the table. She rummages around my compact mirror, extra shirt, shoes, cellphone chargers, laptop, and gold staff…oh, yeah, there’s a shiny gilded staff hidden at the bottom. It’s shrunk now, another magical thing the thingy can do, so it fits in my bag snugly. But the officer opens her eyes wide.
“Is that the—” my boyfriend says with wide eyes over my shoulder.
Before he can speak another word, a stunningly lovely lady with long blond hair and bright blue eyes in a white customs officer uniform glides over and touches my hand. She returns the golden rod snugly to my bag and zips it up. Then she says to the other officer with a smile, “Va bene, non fa niente.”
The other officer nods.
“Cora?” asks my boyfriend in disbelief.
Cora winks at him. Then she says in a very fake Italian accent, “Enjoy your flight back to America.”
THE END