Frail Barrier by Edward Sklepowich Read Free Book Online Page B

little pieces if she broke one of them. Easier for me to tote a hundred boxes up ten, twenty flights than to deal with her when she’s angry!’
    Giulietta was as different from Albina as two sisters could possibly be. The seamstress expected Albina to wait on her hand and foot, and seemed to give little in return except for her cast-off garments.
    â€˜Let me take care of the rest of the chairs,’ Urbino said as he went over to another table. ‘Do whatever else you need to do. I’ll walk you home.’
    â€˜It’ll be nice to get back earlier than usual. There’s something I want to watch on television.’
    While Urbino replaced the chairs, Albina made a few adjustments around the café, neatened glasses by the sink, emptied a bucket of sudsy water into the sewer grate, and closed the window behind the bar.
    â€˜I don’t want to keep you waiting, Signor Urbino. Let’s go.’
    â€˜There’s no need to rush.’
    â€˜I’m finished.’
    Urbino pulled down the metal shutter with a pole, wondering how the woman managed to do it herself. Albina took two keys on a ring from her dress pocket and locked the shutter with one of them.
    â€˜This is nice,’ Albina said as they headed toward the Accademia Bridge. ‘If you hadn’t helped me, I would have got caught in the storm that’s coming.’
    A strong, damp wind blew against their faces as they entered the Campo Santo Stefano. What shops and cafés were still open on this summer’s night were closing. Awnings were being rolled up and merchandise taken inside. Tourists looked apprehensively at the dark sky. Some stood immobile on the stones of the square as they tried to decide what to do. Others hurried back to their hotels or the shelter of an open café.
    â€˜But I don’t think it will be as bad as what we had two nights ago,’ Albina said.
    Urbino, who had developed the Venetian sensitivity to the weather, agreed with her.
    â€˜Were you caught in that storm?’ he asked her.
    â€˜I was at the restaurant when it started. I thought the walls were going to come down around me! A neighbor’s son came to rescue me and walk me home, just like you’re doing. We probably didn’t get blown away because we were holding on to each other for dear life.’
    Urbino took her arm as they went up over the Accademia Bridge.
    â€˜You don’t have to take me all the way home. Here comes the diretto . You’ll be in Cannaregio before the rain comes.’
    â€˜I like the rain.’
    â€˜Not the kind this one is going to be. But as you wish.’
    Urbino and Albina soon entered the Calle Gambara down which Perla Beato had slipped an hour earlier, but in a few minutes their steps diverged from those which would have taken Romolo’s wife to her apartment. Albina and her sister lived in the unfashionable part of Dorsoduro – or at least it was considered unfashionable by residents like Perla and members of the large expatriate community who favored Dorsoduro above other areas in Venice.
    But it was one of Urbino’s favorite quarters, and he had been frequenting it a lot of late. He enjoyed the liveliness of the Campo Santa Margherita and its proximity to the university at Ca’ Foscari. Although nothing could shake his devotion to Florian’s, on many afternoons he could be found at one of the small cafés in Santa Margherita. He had become acquainted with some of the students, and often got involved in discussions with them about art and politics that went on for hours.
    Although it would have been a few minutes quicker to Albina’s apartment if they went over the bridge by the Church of San Barnabà, Albina suggested they pass through the Campo Santa Margherita.
    â€˜I go that way whenever I can,’ she said. ‘I like to see the people, especially the young ones.’
    Urbino guided her through the Campo San Barnabà and over the