Chapter 12

On my knees, I scrubbed the bathroom tiles with an old toothbrush—I’d never found another tool as efficient—and my mind wandered. I thought of that blue sky on Valencia’s painting. Of her golden Italy she loved to talk about. She’d left her home after the Second World War, but part of her soul had remained behind.

In the city of Florence.

The mere name conjured up beauty and warmth in my mind. Shit, I’d never even been outside of the country. Jack had traveled a lot. He’d even lived in California for a while. But not me. I’d grown up in the east end of Montreal and the furthest I’d gone had been a field trip to Ottawa in elementary school.

I scrubbed harder, my knees hurting under the pressure of my weight against the hard red tiles. But I wasn’t going to wear those ridiculous knee pads. No way.

I thought of Jack’s suggestion I work naked, and then imagined Valencia’s reaction and chuckled out loud.