Page 106 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
The medicine cabinet is slightly open so I peer inside. An expensive jar of face cream, two hair ties with a loose piece of hair tangled around them, and an eyebrow razor. When I reach inside to pick up the eyebrow razor, the base of the cabinet is sticky with dried-up toothpaste and I grimace. My mother is the worst cleaner in the world. She only pays attention to the surface. I hold the razor out and look at the edge of it, where the metal meets the plastic holder. It’s beginning to rust. She must run it under the water and put it directly back in the cabinet.
It’s still difficult to breathe, so I reach for something to distract myself, spotting the jar of expensive face cream tucked in the cabinet. I unscrew the lid, staring into the white pillowy cream. I remember Theo’s words and I spit inside it.
57
MAGDALEN
The museum has been converted into a beautiful venue for Lucia and Maio. Long tables draped in lace tablecloths nestle elegantly between the giant sphinx statues. Papyrus paper name cards sit at each person’s chair, along with hundreds of candelabras, dripping with wax, placed perfectly at each table. A cellist sits next to one of the mummies in the adjoining room, where the middle has been cleared to create a dance floor. Lucia and Maio glow as they say their vows, cut their cake and dance for the first time as a married couple. I am so proud that my sister has been brave enough to find the love of her life, and I feel blessed to welcome Maio into the family.
I spend the whole night talking to strangers I’m supposed to know. They ask me a million questions and I don’t remember a single one of my answers. By the time I sit down, a large portion of the guests have already left. Thank god I wasn’t the maid of honour. My stomach growls angrily, reminding me I haven’t eaten since yesterday, during the rehearsal dinner, sans Theo. And while I knew he was here during the ceremony, I refused to look at him. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t see him. He was wearing black and ignored me the entire time. I try to be proud that I walked away. He waited until after I had given most of myself, but at least I had the nerve to stand up before he took the rest of me. Still, a part of me wished that he would have stood up, too. Maybe even took a step and whispered for me to stay.
I shake the thought away. It’s too late for yearning. In another week, I’ll be back in rainy Oxford. Anika has bought a ticket to visit me in October, so my two sisters will finally meet. I came to Chivasso a virgin who did not believe in love. And I’ll return to Oxford with a ravenous ache for someone I might only see in my dreams. My stomach growls again, but when I look down at the food I feel nothing. No desire to reach my hand to the fork. The thought of chewing is tiring.
Nestling myself into one of the chairs near the dance floor, I’m happy to be alone for a moment. Dexter stands off in the far corner with a shorter man, his face sweaty as he talks aggressively close to him, and it’s now so obvious that he’s on something. I glance at Cinzia Sinclair, who chats on the other side of the museum with a cousin of Maio’s, and I wonder if, the entire time she’s speaking to this woman, her mind is on Dexter. How exhausting it must be to not trust your person. To wonder if their eyes will wander, even after two kids and decades of marriage. Then I look over at my own mother. She stands underneath the moss-covered tombs with one arm draped lazily over my father’s shoulder as he points wildly at the Ancient Book of the Dead papyrus hanging on the wall. This is how I will always remember them, lost in their own world of ancient Egypt and loud laughter. But now a secret hangs over them alongside the pretty moss.
I sip the champagne and close my eyes as the cellist begins a new song and my mind drifts to Theo. If I had known leaving him that night would lead to unplanned absences and active avoidance, would I have ever asked him to kiss me? Anika claims it was because he wasn’t feeling well but even she couldn’t hide her disappointment. Less than three months home and I’ve cleaved our family’s bond like chopping firewood. Hacking away until the pieces of us are unsalvageable, too small to even burn. But I think about a tiny Theo, having to endure his father’s humiliation, and I feel selfish for even considering him having to hold that secret alone. I wish it were me who had seen them in the attic. Is that love? Wanting to endure someone else’s pain? It’s a scary thought. To realize I would cut my wrists and bleed out if it meant that Theo would never be hurt again is a heady revelation. Would I do the same for Dante? I know the answer, but I brush it away before it lands.
Downing the last of the champagne, I hear a fantastic laugh and turn to watch Anika hastily grab one of Maio’s many cousins, dragging him to the dance floor. Her dress is tangerine orange with intricate beading of pinks and yellows, making her glow in the dim candlelight of the museum. The cousin’s face is bright red as she takes his hand and places it on her lower back. When she readjusts it so that he’s cupping her ass, I snort with laughter to myself. The combination of expensive champagne and Anika’s eternal confidence makes it impossible not to smile.
‘Hello, Magdalen.’
My eyes close. Immediately the smile slips. I would know it was him by the shape of his shadow, by the echo of his footsteps against the granite floor, but I blink up to be sure. When our eyes meet, my breath catches in my throat. Cold grey eyes stare intensely at me, his gaze lingering over my body, my face, my hair, and I know mine do the same as I take in the sight of him in a tux. Yes, he’s wearing all black, but he dominates the colour, looking tall and broad in the fitted jacket. My hand stings with the desire to fix his bowtie but I remain seated, my knees shaking underneath my dress.
His casual hello is disturbed by the clench of his jaw and how tightly his fists are shoved in his pocket. His lips. Impossibly soft. I reach for another glass of champagne, downing it in three sips, willing myself to remember what else I thought about before Theo Sinclair.
‘Hi.’
‘You’re beautiful.’ He exhales harshly. ‘It shocks me every time I look at you. How beautiful you are.’
Now it’s my turn to exhale, completely caught off guard by his confession. I want to lie down on the table and sob. Beg him to take it back. To say it again.
‘Thank you. You look beautiful, too.’
‘So Anika tells me you’re going back to Oxford next week,’ he says dejectedly.
‘Our own little Cupid. She tells me you bought your plane ticket for New York.’
‘Yeah, they’re quite worried about the state of my thesis.’
‘Who’s they?’
‘My fucking father called his friend at Columbia and told him about my lack of progress. I think my presence here makes him nervous.’
‘You must be tired.’
‘I’ve had seven years to rest. It shouldn’t still surprise me.’
‘Will you talk to him before you leave?’
‘No.’ His lips thin. ‘No, there’s nothing more to say. I’d rather spend my last days talking to you. Anika. Dante. Who needs fathers anyway?’
‘You’ll always have mine.’
He taps his foot impatiently, eager to stop talking about this, and glances nervously at the dance floor. And I know before he asks. Yes.
‘Dance with me?’
‘I’ve never slow-danced with anyone. I might step on you.’
