I laugh. “Not even a little bit. But good to know I have the option.”
Pierce continues his sulking through another espresso shop. I pray his mood turns, quickly, because the next stop is one that’s been on my bucket list since I first got the guidebook to Tuscany. The Siena Duomo.
I’m used to winding paths, from London parks to Kentucky roads; everything winds out with no real origin. Siena’s different. The feeling’s the same, but we zigzag through harsh brick turns, narrow alleys. It’s all angular and disorienting—in a good way. Too often London has felt like home home with its open spaces and cloudy skies.
We maneuver through the angles, corner by corner, and it all comes into view. Wood doors framed with ornate stone carvings, trailing up traditional peaks found in cathedrals. In the top, near the center of the building, there’s a large pane of stained glass that sparkles with multicolored light. I’m frozen here. It feels like a back alley on one side, and it looks like the holiest place in Catholicland on the other.
It’s not technically my religion, but it’s close enough. And it really feels like I am about to have one literal come-to-Jesus moment. But I’m ready for it.
I break off from the group and find myself walking the stairs.
“Did you want to go in?” Ajay asks. “I think I will.”
“It’s seven euro—if that doesn’t stop you, then I’m in.”
He nods. “The Catholic side of my family would kill me if I didn’t go inside one duomo while we’re in Italy. The Hindu side? They probably wouldn’t mind if I skipped it.”
With a glance back to Pierce, I file into the building. It’s like we’re on two separate trips. But maybe Dani can make him a bit perkier before we continue.
Ajay takes the lead, and we quickly get our tickets and file through the line.
I haven’t been in a church like this since my parents took me to St. Patrick’s in NYC, and even so—this is way bigger than St. Patrick’s. The green-and-white marble columns hold up the building. There’s so much to focus on, the dark wooden pews or the massive gold-plated organ, but the columns catch my eye.
It’s so quiet in here.
I hold a euro between my fingers and hesitate by the votives. St. Patrick’s comes back to me. I’ve always been raised Christian, and my mom’s always been all in on it. The megachurches are her happy place, the more opulent, the better. She’d go every day if she could. My dad’s family is a mix of religious and not, but my mom’s clearly pulled him allllll the way to the dark side. It’s hard to tell how much that means to him.
For Mom, Christianity replaced the family she had been separated from. And I guess religion has that way of connecting you with people. And right now, I feel oddly connected to them.
I think I remember how this works.
I drop a coin in the donations box; Ajay follows suit. I take a wick, light it, and transfer it to a candle. After dropping the wick, I bring my hands to my forehead, chest, then left and right shoulders.
“Do you really believe all this?” I ask him as we slowly walk down aisles, into more rooms with ornate altars.
“You know what I like about you?” Ajay laughs. “This is, maybe, the second time we’ve ever talked, one-on-one, and you’re asking me the hard-hitting questions.”
I shrug. “No better place to ask this question.”
“I do, I think. There’s so much I don’t know, and I admit that, but I’ve not come across anything that made me stop believing in something. Oh, and I like the pope. That a good enough answer?”
“Works for me. It’s hard to be in this place and not believe in something.”
He looks up at a gold-plated cross, set over an altar. “I get that.”
Outside again, we move quickly to the piazza. I try to get Pierce’s attention by coming close to him. He shies away every time. He’s cold, even though the sun is hot this July day. I’m defeated. I hold my oboe case tight in my hands, and I’m looking forward to playing pieces with Dani, but there’s a knot in my chest that won’t go away.
It should be Pierce out here with me, but maybe there’s a new friendship in Dani and Ajay that I can make, so when Pierce and I are better, we’ll all be closer. Maybe.