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APPARENTLY, MIKEY FINDS me attractive. I keep telling myself I won't invade her thoughts, but it really can be difficult to tune them out. Her thoughts, like her voice, are rather loud. I would love to tease her about the supposed golden glow around my head, or the fact that I should smell like honey, but it would be wicked to embarrass her like that.
Mikey shouts at Matteo, “You should visit Sofia!”
I translate for her, because even though he speaks English, I wouldn't be surprised if he responded more readily to his native language.
“She's still in Florence, at the same address that's on these letters!” Turning to me, Mikey asks, “It is the same address... right?”
“Yes. It is.”
“Sofia is at this address!” Mikey flicks the letter in Matteo's hand, but the paper doesn't budge. She shouldn't be surprised. It's difficult to impact objects in the physical world, even if you're an Archangel. “Don't you want to visit her? It's only an hour and a half to Florence, give or take. You could be back before the end of the day!”
When I translate Mikey's exact words, she gives me an approving nod.
Miraculously, our combined efforts are enough to movitate Matteo, who is on his feet and donning a jacket a moment later.
Mikey asks, “Dude, why is he wearing a jacket? Isn't it hot outside?”
“Well, he's not exactly young,” I reply. “I recently had a charge who would wear sweaters when it was ninety degrees outside.” A moment later, I add, “That's in Farenheit, obviously. I prefer Celsius, but I used Farenheit for your sake.”
“Ohh, that's right. You're British!” Mikey says that in such a way, it almost sounds like she's accusing me of something nefarious. “What part of the United Kingdom are you from?”
I'm not “from” anywhere. I don't want to get buried in lies, so I swiftly change the subject. “Ah, look! Matteo is heading outside. Do you think he's going to visit Sofia?”
“I don't know. Maybe?”
We follow him out, and to my surprise, he mounts a Vespa that's nearly the same as ours.
“A seventy-eight-year-old man on a Vespa...” I mutter. “That seems like a recipe for disaster, doesn't it?”
“No. I think it's badass,” Mikey says. “More old people should be like this. Once, I saw a video about a bunch of skateboarding grannies, and there's this old Asian model who was walking the catwalk at, like, eighty years old.”
While I appreciate her optimism, I can't shake my foreboding feeling. “Be that as it may, we should ride close to Matteo... to keep an eye on him.”
We hop on the Vespa and follow Matteo out of Pisa. The first few minutes are somewhat promising. He's not a bad driver.
“Go, Matteo, go!” Mikey cheers for him. “He is going to meet Sofia... right? He's not just taking a joyride?”
I close my eyes and peek into Matteo's thoughts, which are primarily in Italian. I translate for Mikey, “He wants to visit Sofia, but he's afraid she won't recognize him.”
“I don't blame him. It's been twenty-five frickin' years!” Mikey shrills. “A spirit guide should have popped by and given him a nudge a long time ago. I mean... it didn't seem that hard to motivate him!”
“It was surprisingly easy,” I agree. “Perhaps this is the first time Sofia has expressed a desire to reunite with her old beau? According to the LightTab, her previous request was to finish making a quilt for her daughter. I don't think Matteo was on her mind.”
“Wow. A quilt? That sounds like a lame job,” Mikey says. “Hey... does your LightTab tell you what my spirit guides were doing for me?”
“Uh... y-yes.” I stutter a bit, because I would rather not admit that I was one of her guides. “According to this...” I poke my LightTab's screen. “Your spirit guide helped you plan a Lord of the Rings-themed birthday party.”
“Aww,” Mikey coos. “They helped with that? I'd like to meet them and thank them, because that party was super fun. Does anyone ever track down their guides in the afterlife?”
“Sometimes...”
I don't have time to elaborate on that, because a potential tragedy is unfolding in front of us. Matteo reaches a busy intersection with a truck that won't stop—or maybe it doesn't see him? With a split second to spare, I warp from the Vespa and throw myself in front of the incoming truck, stopping it with a burst of light. Matteo has to swerve a bit, but the truck doesn't hit him.
Somewhere behind me, I hear Mikey screaming. I don't think she knows how to control the Vespa, so I warp back to her and steady our vehicle.
“Whoa... did Matteo almost get hit?” Mikey asks.
“I believe so.”
“And... you saved him?”
“I believe I did.”
“How did you do that?” Mikey cries. “That reminds me of a video I saw on YouTube. In the video, it looked like an angel came out of nowhere to rescue a guy from an incoming truck. Basically, it was the exact same thing you just did.”
“It sounds like you've seen a lot of videos, Miss Frost,” I tease her.
“Well... yeah. I was in and out of the hospital a lot. I had a lot of time to kill.”
The rest of the ride to Florence is relatively uneventful, but Matteo does swerve a lot, and I clench a fist every time he does. If he wrecked, our mission would likely be over.
“Miss Frost, I'm going to warp back to Sofia. I think she should be sitting outside when Matteo arrives. If I leave, can you handle the Vespa?”
“May... be.” Her answer is dripping with hesitation. “I can give it a shot.”
“Good.” I glance at Mikayla and chuckle at her gaping mouth. “You're about twenty minutes from Florence. Best of luck to you.”
I warp back to Sofia's house and focus my attention on her caregiver daughter, Martina. I convince her to take Sofia outside, to let her enjoy the sunset. Mikayla and I have been at this mission for so long, it's getting dark now.
Mikey sends me a message on the LightTab, but it's riddled with typos. She must have a difficult time driving and texting at the same time. “Mateo almosh crast again. It was so scary, I almost died a secon time. Are we in flirence yet?”
I think she's trying to tell me that Matteo almost crashed again. I feel bad that I wasn't around to help her.
A moment later, I get another text.
“Why does the stupd lighttab not have autocorrec? Spirts make typos too.”
A few minutes later, I receive yet another one.
It is hard to drive and text. Sory if i'm buggin you.
Her typo-filled texts give me a good laugh. She's hardly “buggin” me, in fact, I find her messages to be delightful. It's a good thing she can't read my mind, or she would know I was smitten from day one. It doesn't seem proper for an instructor to feel this way, but it isn't as if I can turn off my heart. I've always liked Mikey, but now that I've interacted with her, I like her even more.
I must be professional until she's finished spirit school. I expect nothing less of myself.
About five minutes after I receive Mikey's trio of texts, I hear the buzz of an approaching Vespa. Matteo's almost here. Sofia's outside with Martina, watching the sun set over Florence's Ponte Vecchio, and when Matteo's scooter stops in front of her, I would swear that time stands still for a moment.
Sofia rises from her wheelchair and takes a step in her suitor's direction. “Matteo?” Her voice shudders when she cries his name.
Both of their faces are wrinkled now, but that doesn't stop them from recognizing each other. Matteo comes toward her, his lips smiling, his arms open wide. Mikey stops her Vespa, albeit barely, and watches the reunion.
As Matteo wraps his arms around his old beloved, I wink at my student. Mikey appears to be dabbing tears from her eyes, and I'm not surprised. Few things are more fulfilling than a successful first mission.
Side-by-side, hand-in-hand, the old lovers watch the setting sun.