“Almost there! Just a few steps!” my mom bolstered to my brother and I as we battled against the apartment steps after a grueling day. My dad reached the top of the stairs first, twisted the key into the lock, and dropped onto the couch, my brother was close to follow. My family had walked over 15 miles today,  and our trip to Europe was coming to an end after a month of sightseeing. The next day at 9 p.m., we were leaving Rome to return home. I am so ready to go home, I thought to myself. I was waiting for the moment when I could go home and sleep on my own bed, hangout with my best friend, and enjoy the rest of my summer vacation. I slipped into the bathroom to change and within 20 minutes my entire family was in bed. I drifted off, thinking I would be home soon, but little did I know how mistaken I was.

The following morning, instead of waking to the afternoon sun, I woke up to my dad’s frantic call. “Where’s my phone? Where’s my wallet? I swear I left them right here!” I buried my head under the cover, convinced that it was just a small misunderstanding. My mom however, got out of bed and inspected the room. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her clamp her hands over her mouth, “Where’s my phone and purse?” Now, despite the aching legs and groggy head, my brother and I dragged ourselves out of bed and searched the tiny 2-bedroom apartment we had rented for our time in Rome. My brother was next to say his things vanished, and it was then we confirmed we that had been robbed. We soon realized that we were left with nothing, no phones, no money (all wallets had been stolen), and perhaps most importantly, no passports. We had no way of getting home.

Shortly afterwards, my family and I were ambulating through the streets in our night suits, stumbling our way into the Roman Police Department. I remember how clueless I was, because in my slow brain, we could still get home,  I was frustrated with the lack of answers, and the fact that we had no clue what we were doing. As I accompanied my family to the police department, I knew that we all wished that this nightmare would terminate. I think the fact that we might really never get home sunk in as the officer impatiently explained that there was an extremely minute chance that we would ever find our things, much less in the day we had before our flight. The officer tapped his foot, scrolled through the computer, and hummed a song while instructing my parents to fill out a police report, he couldn’t care less. Dejected, we left the police department and took a seat in the cafe next to it to plan out our next steps.

There, my dad inquired a family of four, “Do you mind if we borrow your phone to call a couple of people? Our things were stolen and we would appreciate some help.” They seemed so content, just a family on vacation, while our fears were shooting in a million different directions, like shaking a bottle of soda so it might explode any minute.

I settled in a chair next to my brother, “Hey dude, you think we’ll find our things and go home?”

Always the help, he shrugged his shoulder, “How should I know?” ( I know right, brothers suck!) Not the answer I wanted to hear, but I didn’t badger because I knew he would do nothing but make me feel worse.

My dad returned in a tad, “I canceled the credit cards and called the American Embassy to see if they can arrange something for us. Emergency Passports are 140 euros per person and will be available after the Embassy comes back from a holiday in 4 days.” Our only chance at getting passports, and we didn’t have the money to pay for them or the time to attain them. What were we going to do?

We ventured back to the apartment, the crowds that I was a part of now seemed distant. We passed the magnificent Trevi Fountain, the bustling gelato shops, the stall with the shaded sunglasses I yearned for, the jerseys from famous players, and the souvenir shop that I had planned on visiting. I remember asking myself why someone would commit an act that makes someone else scared and miserable, promising myself I would never do something like that. This time, I danced up the apartment steps, too worn out to even complain. My parents salvaged the apartment for anything we could use in terms of money, finding only 10 euros. I just sat on the red velvet couch, gazing outside, cut off from the outside world.

“How did they get in while we were sleeping?” my mom questioned, “The back window was open when we woke up and I know we closed it, but we’re 3 stories high! How could they have come from there anyway?!”  I understood what she was thinking, it was extremely difficult to reach us from the window, underneath  was a small garden with a miniscule gazebo, and it would have taken serious skills or a really long ladder to get up here.

My dad replied, “How did we not get up? They took things from right next to us!” Their voice trailed off in my head, as I lost myself to thoughts.

My brother, who was barely listening, raised his head to speak, “Why don’t we track your iphone dad?” Thats right! My dad’s iphone 5 had a built in tracking device that we or the police could follow! I had a new sparkle in my eyes as I desperately hoped this would be the breakthrough we needed.

Using 5 euros, we paid for an hour of computer access in a compact shop two blocks away from our apartment. My dad’s finger flew across the keyboard as he came to a website. He typed a few things in, and I think I could hear my heartbeat as the screen showed the international sign for loading. It seemed as all eternity passed until the screen disappointed us all, our things were offline. My mom consoled us and then left to sit outside, it was crushing to think how  close we had been. My brother and I stood up as to leave but my dad spoke, “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on this if they turn it on.” I, on the other hand, was done being wrecked,  I headed outside and plopped on the dusty curb beside my brother and my mom. The sun was shining bright and the trees swayed side to side in the wind but  I thought of only home, and how that was the only place I wanted to be right now.  We waited for nearly 45 minutes until my dad sprinted outside, “Come in quickly! There’s a location but who knows how long they’ll keep it on!” We rushed in and saw that the screen showed an address 2 hrs from Rome in a city I hadn’t heard of, and we clicked for details. Right then, the address disappeared and the phone was offline again, we were back to square one.

My family and I were devastated. We came so close, but we hit dead end after dead end, nothing was working.
Only my mom remained optimistic. “Guys,” she explained, “We have progress. We can’t give up now or we’ll never get home. We have to keep working.” And we did because  if you don’t keep trying, there’s no hope, and we needed hope. We all tried our own ways; my dad looked online for anything that might help us, my mom looked for any clues, my brother offered “constructive criticism” (ya that’s what he calls insulting every good idea you come up with), and I made a list of what we knew and what we didn’t. My dad read of things important to Naples, “A hotel is being taken down, a school is closing, a circus is visiting, and a major store is going out of business.” All of a sudden, it hit me. A circus was visiting, which meant that they might have people who could get through the window, it was perfect. I jointly explained my thinking to my family, it was our best shot. Once again, we had a sliver of hope.

We contacted the lady who had rented us the apartment, Franchesca. She apologized for our hardships and organized a ride so we could get to Naples. But time was running short, it was nearly 1:00. Soon enough, I was zipping through the streets of Rome on a motorcycle, holding on to my mom’s waist who held on to Franchesca. Next to us rode my brother and dad, who were riding with Franchesca's sister. As we got closer and closer, I noticed many things. Men smoking cigars on the streets, women beating children, people pick-pocketing tourists, and the smell of rotten fast food and dirty public restrooms was almost overpowering. Dirty alleyways were filled with out of business signs, it was a place that could barely be imagined in my perfect world. In what seemed the safest part of the city, a giant purple tent stood, the front of it was imprinted in gold letters, The Circus of Magic.  People in weird costumes bustled in and out, a man with an afro brighter than the sun, his bushy hair looking more like a sponge . A lady on high heels that were close to a foot tall. We cautiously joined the line to enter and my dad politely asked to talk to the manager, Roberto. He was a short man, no taller than 5’2,but his body was built like a weight lifter and he carried himself with a certain pride and respect. However, there was something in his eyes, something scared and scarred, that didn’t match the confident picture he tried to be. After explaining to him what happened, he seemed more than lenient to help us, he reassured us that he would bring his crew together and question them.

First he interrogated the acrobats, “Do you know anything? You will lose your job if you do not return the items now. Please help them they don’t have much time” Nobody came forward. He then questioned the dancers, who replied in the same way. Group after group came by until the manager politely told us that he had to get ready for his show and would continue his efforts afterward. He gave us free tickets to the show. Would we get back in time?

The show was amazing, acrobats performed tricks that seemed impossible and the dancers carried out perfect routines. Clowns made everybody laugh and the animal trainers were nothing less than amazing. The manager himself came out on stage, performing a trick where he jumped 15 ft in the air and into a hula hoop suspended from the ceiling. But time for my family was running out. If we missed our flight, we would have to buy new tickets (the airline wasn’t giving us refund and were overbooked for a whole week), and we can’t buy tickets without money. As soon as it was done, two dancers led us to a room backstage, introducing themselves as Alberto and Sabrina. Alberto was tall and lanky, with wavy brown hair that fell just passes his ears and a warm smile. Sabrina was a sweet girl with sparkling blue eyes that made you feel like everything would be okay and she was very upset by our news. They gave us lunch, I hadn’t realized how much the growling in my stomach had increased.

They chatted with us, “ I’m so sorry about your things. I really do hope you get them back.”

My dad asked, “Do you know anyone who would take them, we are close to certain that they were brought here.”

Sabrina scrunched her eyebrows together. “We’re a very close group. I can’t think of anyone who would do somethjing like this.

Aberto leaned into the table, “I'm not sure if I should say this, but we had a rehearsal last night, and the only person who didn’t show up was Roberto.”

My mom’s mouth parted wide and her eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure? He seemed so nice, I don’t think that he stole anything.”

Alberto smiled without humor. “ Don’t let his phony front fool you. He’s in a tight spot, he spends most of the money from the circus in his private matters and it affects the way he runs the circus. He used to be our lead acrobat, he can jump higher than a plane with barely any boost.” I gasped and glanced at my parents,but none of them seemed to make the connection,  our window was high, maybe Roberto was the thief! I quickly explained my thinking to them, and they agreed with me. A plan, albeit crude and sloppy, was created. Aberto and Sabrina would lead Roberto away for at least 15 minutes. Then, we would slip in, find our items, and leave before he noticed. It was time to go home.

“Roberto, Roberto,” Sabrina came into his office panting, “Something’s wrong.  Albert is bent over in the hallway. He can barely stand!”

Roberto grinned maliciously, “ Didn’t I tell you not to bother me unless there’s a real emergency?” Sabrina begged him, and he gradually got up and barrelled off, inches away from where I was hiding. My family and I slipped into the humungous office, filled with expensive trinkets and high-tech gadgets that seemed extremely fancy compared to the rest of the circus. We probed high and low, rustled through drawers and cabinets, with no luck.  Then my brother exclaimed, “There’s something locked up in here, I can’t get it.” After a quick five minute tutorial (Thank you Youtube), my brother grabbed a paper clip and wriggled it to get the drawer open. Inside were our things, passports, phones, and credit cards and cash! We grabbed all of them, hiding them in pockets and waistbands to conceal our secret. Just as I slipped the last phone into my pocket, Roberto stumbled through the door.

His eyes opened wide. “What are you doing here??” His eyes connected with the dots, the open drawer the bulging pockets and the hands hastily shoved behind the back. His cheeks turned a dark red.

My dad narrowed his eyes. “Roberto, we know you stole our things! We are here to take them back. This ends now!”

To our surprise, he lowered his head and tears came to his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I swear it wasn’t for me.”
“We can’t trust you. We’re leaving now.”

He jerked his head up. “No please, just hear me out. I promise you will be free to leave right after that.” His head drooped so low and the tears in his eyes just wouldn’t stop flowing. His once so confident and cruel face shattered like glass under a boot. The words started flowing out of his mouth along with the tears, and once they started, they didn’t stop.

“I was given to an orphanage when I was thirteen, I never knew my parents. I was raised there until I was 25. All I remember is eating out of trash cans, never having a real house, and running from authorities. When they took me in, I suddenly had a hand to hold on to, a lap to sit in, I had a home. And now, with the state our city is in, they’re going to close the orphanage unless the orphanage provides them with money. This was my only chance, I’m so sorry. I took everything that could be sold again.”

My parents exchanged a glance. “You should have done this some other way. There’s always another option.” my mom said.

She pulled the money from her pockets and dropped it on the desk, nearly 400 euros (510 dollars) worth, she then left the credit cards. I stared in awe as my dad pulled out his credit card  and my brother placed his phone on the desk. Why would they do that after everything we’d been through to get these back? However, I realized that even I barely felt regret when I dropped the items I was carrying. And so, taking only our passports, we left the room. I thought about it for a while, but I think I always knew why we left our things. It's because after listening to the story, we all knew objects don’t matter. Memories matter, the marvelous time we had in Europe would stay with us even if we left our things. Experiences matter, we weren’t going to forget everything we had been through but it made us stronger people. People matter, our stuff was gone, but my family was together, and thats all that counted.