not really Venice. The airport.
It is raining outside.
ELIJAH CAN’T HELP IT. HE SCANS THE CROWD AT THE GATE OUTSIDE of customs, looking to see if someone is waiting for him. As if Cal could truly drive the bitchin’ Camaro across the Atlantic Ocean and wait with a lei, just to be inappropriate.
“Let’s go,” Danny says, hiking his bag higher on his shoulder. “And tie your shoelaces.”
Elijah doesn’t care about his shoelaces, but he ties them anyway. He nearly loses Danny in the airport rush. He doesn’t care much about that, either, except for the fact that Danny has the money and the name of the hotel. (Typical.) Elijah nurtures a half-fantasy of disappearing into the crowd, making his own way to Venice, living by his wits for a week and then returning at the end of it all to share the flight home with his brother. He can’t imagine that Danny would mind.
But Danny has stopped. Danny is waiting and watching – watching his watch, tapping his foot, prodding Elijah forward. International crowds huddle-walk between them. Families with suitcases. A girl who drops her Little Mermaid doll.
Elijah returns the doll and makes his way to his waiting brother, who asks, “What took you so long?”
Elijah doesn’t know what to say. Shrugs were invented to answer such questions, so that’s just what Elijah does.
ITALY SHOULD MAKE DANNY FEEL RICH, BUT INSTEAD IT MAKES HIM feel poor. To change 120 (dollars) into 180,000 (lire) should make a man feel like he’s expanded his wealth. But instead it makes the whole concept of wealth seem pointless. The zeros – the measures of American worth – are grotesque, mocking. The woman at the exchange bureau counts out his change with a smile – Look at all the money you get. But Danny would feel better with Monopoly chump change.
He leads Elijah out to the vaporetto launch. It’s quite a scam they’re running – the only way into Venice from the airport, really. It’s one of the worst feelings Danny knows – the acknowledgment that he’s going to pay through the nose, and there’s nothing he can do about it.
“One hundred twenty thousand lire for the men,” the vaporetto driver (the vaporetteer?) says in flawed English.
Danny shakes his head.
“Best price. Guarantee,” the driver insists. Danny can tell he’s been brushing up on his Best Buy commercials. Probably has his American cousins videotape them.
Danny tries three other drivers. Other tourists gratefully take the vaporettos he discards.
“You really expect me to pay one hundred and twenty thousand lire – eighty dollars – for a vaporetto ride?” Danny asks the fourth driver.
“It is not a vaporetto. A water taxi, sir.”
Elijah steps into the boat.
“Sounds great,” he tells the driver. “Thank you.”
IT IS POURING NOW. COLD AND RAINY AND GREY.
Elijah can’t see much through the clouds and mist. Still, he’s thrilled by the approach – thrilled by the wackiness of it all. Because – he’s realising this now – Venice is a totally wacky city. A loony idea that’s held its ground for hundreds of years. Elijah has to respect that.
The buildings are right on the water. Elijah can’t believe it. Sure, he’s seen Venice in the movies – Portrait of a Room with a View of the Wings of the Lady Dove. But he’d always assumed that they picked the best places to show. Now Elijah sees the whole city is like that. The buildings line the canals like long sentences – each house a word, each window a letter, each gap a punctuation. The rain cannot diminish this.
Elijah walks to the front of the taxi and stands with the driver. The boat moves at a walking pace. It leaves a wider canal – Elijah can’t help but think of it as an avenue – and takes a series of narrow turns.
Finally, they arrive at the proper dock. The driver points the way, and Danny and Elijah soon find themselves manoeuvring their suitcases through the alleys of Venice. The Gritti is smaller than Danny had pictured. He looks at its entrance suspiciously, while Elijah – unburdened by expectation – is more excited.
An elaborately dressed bellman glides forward and gathers their bags. Danny, momentarily confused, resists. It is only after Elijah says thank you that the suitcases are relinquished and the steps towards the registration desk are taken.
“May I help you?” an unmistakably European man asks from behind the counter. He wears an Armani smile. Elijah is impressed.
“Yes,” Danny starts, leaning on the desktop. “The name is Silver. A room for two. Originally the room was under my parents’ names, but they should have switched it to mine. Danny Silver. We need a room with two beds. On the canal side.”
“If that’s possible,” Elijah adds. Danny swats him away.
The manager’s smile doesn’t falter. He opens a ledger and types a few keys on his computer. A temporary concern crosses his brow, but it is soon resolved.
“Yes, Silver,” he says to Danny. “We have a room – a beautiful room. Two beds. That is what you requested in March. One room for Daniel and Elijah Silver.”
Elijah thinks this sounds great. But Danny doesn’t look happy.
“Wait a sec—” he says. “What do you mean, March? The initial reservation should have been for Rachel and Arthur Silver, not for Daniel and Elijah.”
The manager checks the ledger again.
“We have no record of a change,” he tells Danny. “Is this a problem?”
Danny shakes his head severely. “You see,” he says to the man behind the desk, “my parents made me think this had been their vacation. But now you’re saying that it was our vacation all along.”
“Which is great,” Elijah assures the still-confused manager. “It’s just a surprise. For him especially.”
“I see,” the hotel manager intones, nodding solemnly. After the paperwork is completed, he produces a pair of golden keys. Elijah says thank you. Danny continues to shake his head and mutters his way to the elevator. The hotel manager smiles a little wider as he hands the keys to Elijah. Beneath his coutured appearance, his sympathy is palpable.
Elijah says thank you again.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE iT.” DANNY ALSO CAN’T STOP HITTING THE SIDE OF THE elevator.
“What’s the matter?” Elijah asks as they walk to their room.
“What’s the matter?!? They tricked us, Elijah. Our own parents. Tricked us. I mean, I knew they meant for us to come here together. But to have had that plan all along …”
They are being led into the room now. It is beautiful. Even Danny has to shut up for a second, just to look out the windows at the canal. Now that the rain has been reduced to a sound, it is moodily atmospheric, mysteriously foreign.
Elijah puts his suitcase on the bed closest to the windows as Danny tips (no doubt undertips) the bellman. When Danny returns to the windows, the spell has been broken. His tirade continues.
“I just can’t believe they’d be so … manipulative. I can’t believe they could stand there and lie to us, all these months.”
“I think it’s kind of nice,” Elijah mumbles.
“What?”
“I said it’s kind of a surprise.”
Elijah knows, from years of practice, that it’s best to just ride the conversation through. Unpack. Nod occasionally. Pretend that Danny’s right, even if he’s acting like he’s