Page 29 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
She takes no time to respond, probably anticipating my denial. ‘So why did you leave Chivasso for seven years?’
‘I was busy. I... I was working and school was intense. Lost track of time.’ Suddenly the lack of air conditioning makes its presence felt. A bead of sweat forms at my hairline. I need to go home and have a cold shower.
‘But you didn’t even come to Christmases or Easters, not Anika’s birthdays or Dante’s graduation. To me, that’s the definition of running away.’
‘Are you fucking analysing my schedule? Should I write the time and date of the next time I’ll be in town?’
‘Only the celestial phase and coordinates of your exact location.’
I roll my eyes now, frustrated, turned on. If only she knew how twisted our fucking families really are. ‘This conversation is over.’
I’m walking towards the exit, my T-shirt feeling itchy and tight against my skin. Calm the fuck down. Only twenty-five stairs to the downstairs exit. But then I hear it. Those same quiet footsteps behind me.
‘Why is this conversation over? I left, too. I just wanted to compare notes. What’s fucked you up so badly?’
I turn around abruptly and the suddenness causes Magdalen to slam into my chest. Our faces are inches apart and I step closer so that I’m looking down at her. My eyes find hers, seeing her searching for an answer in my gaze.
‘I told you I didn’t run away from anything. That’s all you fucking need to know. And no offence, really, but we’re not friends like this. I don’t really care why you left, so if you could mind your own shit, Magdalen, that’d be brilliant.’ She looks at me, shocked.
Let it go, Magdalen. For the love of Christ, let it go.
Before I step back, my eyes selfishly find her trembling lips and I swallow a groan before turning around again.
Speeding down the spiral staircase, I’m about to turn left to exit the building when it dawns on me that her gentle footsteps behind me have stopped. Of course they have, you idiot. Why the fuck would she want to follow you now? Stealing a final glance, I look up to see her at the top of the staircase, hovering above the second step.
‘Nice one, Theo. No wonder I never talked to you.’
Mustering the final blow, I spit out, ‘Let’s keep it that way, yeah?’
‘You got it.’ Nodding to herself, she disappears into the darkness with a sharp turn.
‘Fuck this shit.’ My hands slam against the handlebar of the exit, the door hitting the wall with a thud that makes me cringe. I always left the anger outside the museum. Even when I was grounded, hungover, or pissed off at Dante, once I walked inside, one deep breath could settle my nerves. I quickly look back at the walls to see if I left any indentation, but thankfully, nothing is there. Things are already slipping and it’s been less than a week. I haven’t even spoken to my father alone yet.
When I get outside, the bright sunlight makes me squint. I walk blindly back to the car, my hand above my eyes to try to make out the shape standing in the parking spot next to my car. For the love of god. It’s not even 8 a.m. and this has turned into the worst day of my life.
‘Just because it says Sinclair doesn’t mean you can park here, Theo.’
My skin crawls at the sound of his voice. Just my luck. In the bright morning light, his face looks sallow. Creases around his mouth and eyes expose his age, grey highlights weaving through his hair. But he’s dressed in a crisp white shirt and fitted navy trousers, looking the part of wealthy museum owner and silver fox.
‘I was just leaving.’
‘So what’s your verdict on the museum? Up to your standard?’ He smirks and locks his car, walking towards the entrance where I stand.
‘It looks the same.’
He smacks his tongue. ‘That’s it? It looks the same? Give me something more, son.’
‘Fine. You want my opinion? You haven’t changed one goddamn thing in seven years. That’s fucking lazy.’
‘Watch your mouth.’ He’s next to me now, both of us 6 foot 4, each of us trying to be a little taller.
‘What? You wanted my opinion, Papa.’
‘We haven’t had a decline in attraction.’
Why is he trying to prove the success of the museum to me?
‘Good for you. What about special exhibitions? I heard Oxford just had a recent excavation. Have you reached out to them for a loan?’
