Exchange of Hearts

Why on earth am I nervous?

After all, the guest they were expecting was a nineteen-year-old exchange student from Lombardy, Italy. She was due any minute. No big deal.

Rick Steele’s two younger sisters, Connie and Rhonda, had made up the daybed in their room for Elia Gianni. It was as if they had a new doll to dress up or a playmate to whisper secrets to in the night.

Still, he was a little envious. He knew when his sisters were younger and had sleepovers the giggling never stopped until the early hours of the morning. What did he expect from an immature thirteen-year-old and a Goth fifteen-year-old? Not a lot.

At nineteen, on summer break from Ohio State University, Rick was the man in the family. His mother, Jenny, had called him that ever since his dad had left her for another woman. A much younger woman. Rick hated his dad and felt sorry for his mother. He did the best he could to help out, but he was in Columbus most of the time now.

His mom called his father, “Dick-the-dead-beat”. Dick lived in Arizona with some peroxide-blonde-tattoo-covered druggie, leaving Rick, his two sisters, and mother to fend for themselves in Dayton.

Rick had no idea why his mother agreed to house an exchange student from the Rotary Club. Yes, his mom was very civic-minded and was involved in every women’s business group Ohio offered, but she always seemed overwhelmed with too much to do. Being a full-time mom/dad and paying all the bills, working two jobs—one as a teacher, one as a tutor—Jenny had no free time on her hands.

Perhaps it was peer pressure from her teacher friends, or maybe it was Rhonda’s idea. Rhonda with the dyed pink hair, black fingernail polish, and nose ring. Wasn’t it Rhonda who brought home all the brochures from Kettering High School? Whatever the reason, everyone in the house seemed thrilled to have someone as exotic as an Italian native in their modest, three-bedroom, middle-class American home.

His sisters were still whispering about it in the bedroom they shared.

Rick stood by the doorway to see what they were up to. Pillow fluffing.

“Rick,” Connie said, “she’s coming any minute.”

“I know. Geez, take a chill pill.”

“She’s so pretty.” Rhonda held a folder which included Elia’s tiny wallet-sized photograph.

“Look.” She held it up as if Rick hadn’t already seen it. “I want her to teach me to speak Italian. It would be so cool.”

Yes, Elia was gorgeous. Long, thick, brown, hair, dark eyes, chiseled features, full lips. But Rick had no interest in women, so it didn’t make a difference to him. He might talk a little with Elia at dinner, but otherwise would mind his own business.

“What time did Mom say the flight arrived?” Rick checked his watch.

“Around six. She’s picking her up at the Dayton Airport.” Rhonda snapped her fingers.

“Crap, I was supposed to get the grill going.”

“I’ll help.” Rick followed both his sisters into the kitchen. Seeing Rhonda’s midriff that exposed her “muffin-top” roll, Rick cringed and wondered what poor Elia would think of them. Some typical American family. An AWOL dad, a pink-haired, chubby Goth with more piercings than a loose-leaf binder, and a thirteen-yea- old who still collected made in China plastic toy animals with eyes that were too big for their heads.

Rick exited the house through the sliding glass door to the deck in the backyard. The hot, humid June air slapped him in the face, a contrast to the cool air conditioning inside. They had an above ground swimming pool that was fifteen feet wide by thirty feet long and four feet deep, surrounded by an elevated deck.

His attention was drawn back to his sisters when Connie removed the metal grate and Rhonda shook the bag of charcoal into the bowl.

Rick heard a car door closing from the front of the house. “Is that them?”

“I don’t know.” Rhonda pushed the sooty charcoals into a mini hill in the center of the bowl.

“I’ll check.” Walking around the outside of the house, Rick saw his mother’s Mazda parked in the driveway. The trunk was open, obscuring the view of her and their new exchange student.

His mother was talking non-stop and sounded either upset or nervous. Rick knew his mother was slightly neurotic but hoped she wasn’t freaking out the poor girl.

Rick was about to say hello or offer to help with luggage when he stopped short. Holy shit!

“Rick,” his mother said as if she had been running out of air from all her chatter. “This is Elia!”

The way his mother said “Elia” and pointed in panic, Rick felt his stomach churn.

“Hello.” Elia had a very thick accent, and held out his, yes, his hand in greeting.

“Hi.” Rick clasped the offered hand and went into meltdown. No. Elia Gianni was not a girl.

Not by any stretch of the imagination. But his photo had made him look like one.

“I know there’s been a mistake.” Jenny appeared about to have a coronary. “But I suppose
it’s all right. I do think the girls will be disappointed though. Rick, open the door, dear.”

Rick headed to the front of their house. The summer air had the scent of jasmine and his mother’s lilies, which were planted everywhere along the house, the garage, and around the shed.

“Come in. My name is Rick.” Rick propped the door open for Elia.

“Grazie, Rick.”

Elia held a small carry-on suitcase, hoisting it over the step and doorframe. He wore skin tight black slacks and a black short sleeve t-shirt. Rick almost came at the sight of his tight ass. “How was the flight?”

“Long.” Elia smiled and dimples appeared. Rick imagined licking them.

“I should make a call and let someone know,” Jenny said

“Mom. Calm down.” Rick hated when his mother went manic.

“Mom?” Rhonda called as she and Connie raced in. The minute they saw Elia they stopped short.

“You’re a guy,” Connie said.

“Yes. I am a guy.” Elia’s eyes shined over his perfect smile. “There is a mistake. I know not why they think I am a girl.”

“Mom,” Rick said, “don’t worry about it.” If you think I’m letting this guy leave, you’re nuts.