Did Patricia play on her team? She couldn’t tell, even though her gaydar had always been finely tuned. In L.A she could spot a lesbian standing ten miles away from her, so to speak.  

In Florence, on the other hand… She wasn’t even sure if Alba was one of them! 

She had to give that point to Italians (or people educated in Italy, for Ms. Hernandez’s sake): They sure knew how to mess up with other people’s head. Part of their formation, maybe? Did they have classes like "How to confuse everybody else 101"? 

‘There we are.’ Patricia’s voice cut through her reverie, a sharp light against haziness. ‘This is the Duomo Square.’ 

Tina’s eyesight got more focused as she stepped out of that headtrip, recognized the now familiar marble adornments of the Cathedral. She smiled, was awed by its’ majesty even though it wasn’t the first time she’d seen it. 

‘I was here yesterday.’ Ms. Kennard announced as they walked around the monument, hand sliding on the cool walls.  

‘Ah, good. Did you see any gypsies?’ 

‘Some, I guess.’ She tried to recall it, but her mind was still reeling on Patricia’s lunch invitation. ‘I don’t remember.’ 

They turned on a corner, stood between the Cathedral and the Batistterio. Several clusters of tourists stood scattered by, chatting and yelling in their native languages. They were steered away from women and children dressed in rags, long skirts sweeping at the floor, entirely covering the females’ legs. The so-called gypsies were in a total of sixteen and no boy over ten years of age was there.  

Some held their hands in cups, begging for money in a mixture of English, Spanish and Italian. Most of the foreigners simply gawked at them in wonder, as if they were part of a spectacle. Others lifted their noses, clearly disgusted. 

‘I present to you this cluster of gypsies.’ The Italian woman said, sighed in exasperation at the scene unfolding in front of their eyes. ‘They need help and would rather beg from negligent tourists than accept it freely from people like us.’ 

‘Couldn’t we offer them some jobs instead of simply giving them food and other stuff?’ Ms. Kennard considered, felt her heart tremble at the sight of too-skinny children scurrying around, at the thought of human beings suffering while she had a banquet for breakfast. She’d always hated such unfairness and saw charity work as a way of making matters more even, more balanced in a world where this kind of difference was stimulated.