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Travel Diary of Jane Harris
Travel Diary of Holly Caputo and Mark Levine
Jane Harris
Isn’t that sweet? I miss The Dude, too. If he were here right now, he’d be curled up around my feet.
And my toes would be losing all circulation because he weighs so much. But still.
I don’t understand why Julio hasn’t written, though. What if he forgot? To feed The Dude, I mean?
But how could he forget? I stuck a giant sign on his dad’s door, to remind him….
Where was I? Oh, yeah. Walking through the piazza behind Mark and Holly.
Well… while I was looking at them, and thinking how cute they are, and what a shame it was that Modelizer Cal wasn’t there with us to see them and all, I got a pang.
A PANG.
I’ll admit it. I mean, I am totally happy for Holly and in full support of this elopement scheme. Really, given the situation, I don’t see how she and Mark have any choice BUT to elope.
But seeing them together like that, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her—I felt a pang.
Because where is MY Mark? Really? Where IS he?
Because I know he’s not in Canada right now, hitting the half pipe—or the full pipe. Or even both, as in Malcolm’s case. I mean, I like Malcolm and all, and we have a blast together. But I can’t really picture him strolling through the piazza with his arm around my waist. Skateboarding through it, certainly. But having a nice glass of bianco frizzante as the sun sets? Not so much.
I’m sure he’s out there, somewhere. My Mark, I mean. He has to be, right?
But what if I never find him? Or what if I already met him, and I messed it up somehow? This would not be unusual, since I mess up everything. I mean, what if My Mark was DAVE who cheated on me with Amy Jenkins (that whore)?
Oh, God, no. Fate would never be so unkind.
Or what if My Mark was Curt Shipley, who took me to the prom in 11th grade, and we made out in his Chevette afterwards, and then that summer, I found out he’d been making out, in that same Chevette, with Mike Morris after the fireworks on the Fourth of July?
Which means I must have turned Curt gay, because he certainly wasn’t gay BEFORE we made out.
Oh, my God. What if Curt Shipley was the man of my dreams, and I TURNED HIM GAY?????
Killing self now.
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e-mails
To: Mark Levine
Fr: Cal Langdon
Re: Sorry
Sorry I missed it when you called earlier. I was dead to the world. We still on for di
Cal
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To: Cal Langdon
Fr: Mark Levine
Re: Sorry
Yes, I happened to hear how “dead to the world” you were as I passed by your room on my way to meet the girls. I wasn’t aware that corpses were sexually active… at least, if I’m to assume the heavily accented female voice calling your name with ever-increasing volume as she climaxed was, indeed, coming from Room 204.
Mark
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To: Mark Levine
Fr: Cal Langdon
Re: Sorry
Oh. That was Graziella. She won’t be joining us tonight.
Cal
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To: Cal Langdon
Fr: Mark Levine
Re: Sorry
I am sorrier to hear that than words can adequately express. See you at eight.
Mark
PDA of Cal Langdon
It was a mistake to invite Grazi in. I should have insisted on going to her place. I’d forgotten how… loud she can be.
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ANTIPASTI
Insalatina mista all’aceto balsamico Carpaccio tiepido di manzo con parmigiano e rucola Medaglioni d’astice con insalata di stagione
PASTA
Fusilli con pomodori e basilico Garganelli con pesto, patate e fagiolini Tagliolini con zafferano, gamberoni e zucchine
SECONDI PLATTI
Medaglioni di vitello in crosta di basilico con purea de melanzane e parmigiano Filetto di manzo alle erbe aromatiche Tagliata di manzo con timballo de patate e cardamomo Filetto di rombo al forno con limone e capperi
INSALATE DI STAGIONE
SELEZIONE DI FORMAGGI ITALIANI
DOLCI
Bavarese al cioccolato bianco con crema cocoa alla liquirizia e latte di madorle Mousse al cioccolato fondente con sedano candito Crema al limone Budino al cocco con frutto della passione
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PDA of Cal Langdon
PDA of Cal Langdon
Insisted on paying for di
Don’t think I made a friend of Ms. Harris, however. Which is a shame, because she looks rather fetching in heels—a point that was driven home rather hard when she stumbled outside the restaurant, and I was forced to pry her heel from where it was wedged between two cobblestones.
The tattoo IS of Wondercat. It’s the same cat’s head that she’s got on her luggage. I’ve never been one for tattoos, but hers is rather fetching.
I can’t believe I wrote the word fetching. This country goes to my head like prosecco.
Travel Diary of Jane Harris
Travel Diary of Holly Caputo and Mark Levine
Jane Harris
Oh, my God, that restaurant was so fancy that they even had tiny little chairs for ladies’ purses! Seriously! Like the waiter held my chair for me, then he pulled out this matching stool for my bag! The bag I bought off an outdoor table on Canal Street in Chinatown, then bedazzled with Wondercat’s face! In a seat of honor!
It was almost too much. There was silverware on the table I had never seen before.
Plus, in the ladies’ room, there were actual folded hand towels for every visitor. Not paper towels. But a huge stack of tiny hand towels, so when you dried your hands, you reached for one, then threw it into a laundry basket underneath the sink.
I have no idea what I ate for di
That meal had to have been three thousand calories, at least.
But I didn’t care. Because it was all so delicious. THIS IS SO FUN!!!!!!!
Well, except for Cal. It’s no WONDER he’s never heard of Wondercat. I doubt he’s ever read anything for fun in his entire life. Holly made the mistake—BIG one—of asking him what the book he wrote is about.
Of course a modelizer like him can’t be writing something cool like a spy thriller or dick lit, like Nick Hornsby or anything. Oh, no. HE has to have written a book about—get this—how Saudi Arabia’s oil fields are on the decline, and soon won’t be able to meet the world’s demands. This, of course, is going to crush Saudi Arabia’s economy, and have serious repercussions throughout the rest of the globe, as well.