The Red Arrow

Ana hugged her mother in the driveway and said her goodbyes. She was heading back to school in Ancona after summer break, eager to begin her first term of graduate school. She felt excited, but also just a bit apprehensive at the prospect.

Ana had chosen a challenging course of study, biomedical engineering. She knew that the positive results of her undergraduate work justified that choice, but she also realized that small insecurities sometimes chipped away at the reality of her accomplishments.

Ana felt fortunate to have a sympathetic and insightful flatmate, Elisa, in Ancona. Italian women were still feeling their way in such advanced studies and career choices, but she felt that she had a good chance of success. Elisa was supportive, even proud, of her academic choices.

Her father swung her bag into the trunk as Ana stashed her backpack in the back seat. He slammed the trunk lid and slipped into his seat.

“Cara, you’re certain that catching the train in Milano instead of Bologna will not be an issue?”

Ana looked into her father’s warm brown eyes. “Of course not, it allows us some more time together. And in any case, it’s the same train line to Ancona. I’ve texted Elisa my arrival time and she will pick me up at the station. The schedule works just fine.”

He nodded. “That’s good. I just don’t want you to be anxious about your trip.”

Ana flipped her hand. “The train trip is always smooth and comfortable. I will have far more to worry about once I arrive and start to work on my master’s thesis.”

Franco laughed. “I’m happy I did not find any reason to test the waters of advanced studies when I was your age.”

“Papà, you have made an excellent career. I only want to have my own success.”

“Of course you do, cara. Now let’s get on the road.”

Franco wheeled the sedan through the streets of Dossobuono and headed to the junction with route E70, also known as the A4 in the arcane Italian road numbering scheme. All that mattered to Franco was that the highway was a smooth, stress free route to Milano where he had business to conduct. He would drop Ana off at the Milano Centrale station where she would continue her trip to Ancona.

They chatted easily in the car, enjoying the clear, pleasant day. As they neared Brescia, Franco slipped into father mode and addressed Ana. “You have your ticket ready on your phone?”

“Of course, Papà. It’s no different from boarding in Bologna. Remember that time we got caught in a detour on the way to Bologna, and I switched to a later train using my phone app!”

He grinned. “I have to be a dad. You’ve always been an independent one, Ana.”

She chuckled. “I know. Someone, to be truthful, two someones, instilled that independence in me.”

Franco laughed. “Mamma is a strong-willed woman, but we get along well by acknowledging each other’s opinions. Men joke that their wives are always right, but cara, once in a while it can be useful to allow your man to be right.”

Ana nodded. She marveled at how her parents often had spirited give-and-take but then fell into agreement. It was a skill she felt would be handy – eventually. “I’ll keep that in mind. But remember I’m not currently attached.”

Her father frowned. “Yes, Riccardo with his little disappearing act after graduation... he didn’t deserve you, cara.”

She shrugged, feeling no regret over Riccardo. “He saved me the trouble of trying to hold things together over the summer and then breaking up anyway.”

Franco shot her a look. “You make it sound like it was never serious.”

“It wasn’t really. He provided convenient companionship, but I never viewed him on the same level as a life partner. Now I must concentrate on getting off to a good start with my thesis, so I’ll hardly have time for men.”

Her father’s warm eyes caught hers briefly. “Don’t be immune to opportunity, Ana. You are a catch, and some high value man will realize it. I would bet on it.”

Ana stared out the window as the Italian countryside flashed by. “Maybe so, but for now my studies come first – at least until second term. I need to make some headway.”

Franco peered at the signs and entered the A35 west of Brescia. After navigating the interchange he changed the subject. “I don’t suppose that you’ve had much opportunity to evaluate the wine shops in Ancona?”

Ana laughed. “Our budget as students doesn’t allow us much in the way of frills. We get an occasional bottle at the Coop for a celebration or special dinner, that’s about it.” Her father’s near-obsession with Italian regional wines sometimes amused her, but while she was home she was more than happy to share his keen interest. He had taught her a great deal about Italian wines, and on the rare occasion that she and Elisa managed a dinner out at a restaurant, her flatmate invariably left the wine selection up to Ana.

“The Coop? Is that a grocery?”

“Yes, it’s a large chain, I believe they have stores in Milano. They haven’t yet built one in Verona.”

“As long as you have a reliable place to shop. Ana, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we can visit you this term and take you out for some indulgent meals. The seafood from the Adriatic is well-known. I don’t really know much about the local wines in the Marche region and it would be fun to learn them.”

Ana brightened at that idea. “That would be lovely, if you and Mamma can come down for a visit. You’ve never met Elisa, and she is a delight.”

“I think we can manage it in October,” mused Franco. “I’ll discuss it with Mamma.”

Such easy conversation with her father was a recent development in their relationship, and Ana welcomed that he fully treated her like an adult.

Ana’s father was in the machine tool business, and his friendly manner and depth of technical knowledge fueled his success. He had a meeting scheduled today with a prospective large client in Milano and he welcomed Ana’s company to keep him relaxed and confident. At last they neared the Milano Centrale station and Franco pulled into a waiting area.

Ana retrieved her things and embraced him. “Thank you for the ride, Papà. I’ll let you and Mamma know when I get to the flat. I wish you good luck with your meeting.”

“It should go well. There are not many suppliers who can meet their picky requirements, and I can be very persuasive.” He winked at her. “Oh, please remember to get yourself some decent food for the train ride, cara.”

“I will, don’t worry. Goodbye, Papà!”

“Ciao, sweetheart.” Franco swung himself back into the car and drove off as Ana wheeled her bag to the station door.

After her years at university, Ana radiated confidence in navigating the bustle of large stations. She found her way to the monitors, noted the track number for her train, then headed for the row of food vendors. They all seemed to be quite busy this morning. Ana checked the time, frowning. I still have a long walk to the platform, I’ll just have to make do with what I can get on the train.

Ana had to traverse nearly the width of the imposing station to board her train. She finally made it to the specified track and walked briskly down the platform to the Trenitalia “Frecciarossa” (Red Arrow) train to Ancona. This high speed train boasted an excellent safety record. Ana had traveled this route many times although she typically boarded this Frecciarossa line farther east in Bologna. Any anxieties about her return to school were kept at bay by the familiarity of the sleek train with its comfortable seats.

She found the business class coach, climbed aboard, and swung her suitcase into the luggage rack near the end of the car. She came down the aisle to find her row, then took her iPad out of her backpack and hoisted the pack into the small overhead rack.

Ana hoped the trip would be smooth and uneventful so that her reentry into the world of academia would proceed without incident. She picked out her seat and eased into it for the journey. She had made it with ten minutes to spare, and maybe could have bought some food. She shrugged. Too late now.

Ana was on the side of the aisle with four seats, but only one other seat was occupied – the one diagonal to hers, by the window. She smiled to herself, connecting her earbuds to her iPad to pull up some music. The free wi-fi on the Frecciarossa trains meant she could listen to any Spotify playlist without downloading it – in theory. When the wi-fi signal became spotty she would switch to songs already on her tablet. She settled in and relaxed to her music.

The train slowly moved out of the Milano Centrale station. It soon left the Milano area and quickly reached 170 km/hr as it raced through the countryside, heading east toward Bologna. Ana slipped into a tranquil mood. The train was on time and soon enough she and Elisa would be reunited. I’ll get off to a good start this term, I can sense it.

Ana’s eyes eventually drifted to the youngish man seated near the window as he pushed his unruly dark hair back from his forehead. He was focused on his laptop, typing away and referring occasionally to a small Moleskine notebook on the table between their seats.

He’s a bit too old to be a student, maybe some sort of traveling businessman. I don’t think he’s quite 30. Ana wasn’t trying to pry, but she couldn’t help but notice his well fitted button-up shirt, attractive features, and warm brown eyes. She hadn’t anticipated any good-looking guy showing up in her car because, well, things like that usually didn’t happen to her.

Boys hit on her at school of course. She thought of them as boys, not men, because too many of them were all about their next easy conquest and were openly put off by any signs of independence in university women. Relationships among these types rarely had any staying power. Her relationship with Riccardo, even though he was respectful toward her, was hardly any better, driven more by inertia than true pair bonding.

To Ana being independent didn’t mean that men were useless to her, only that she had the necessary skills to go about her everyday life mostly unaided. She was envious of her parents’ deep-seated affection though. Maybe someday...

The conductor interrupted her musings. Ana paused her music and pulled out her phone so that she could scan her ticket. She nodded and moved to the next seat. The man didn’t notice the conductor at first, until she leaned over to get his attention. “Biglietto, per favore.”

The man was obviously startled; he had been concentrating on his work, but he pulled out his phone and had the ticket ready.

She scanned it. “Grazie.”

“Prego,” he responded with a small smile, and turned back to his laptop screen.

Ana sighed. He seems so busy, there may not be much chance for any conversation. At least he’s easy to look at. She returned her attention to her own tablet.

Image by Gisorr650, via Wikimedia Commons, used under CC license