Page 60 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
‘You should have woken her up earlier, Theo.’ Pinching my nose, I count down from ten, trying not to blow up.
Even as the door frame hides him, I can still see myself in him. His impatience. Endless. The divot in his nose. It’s painful to see exactly how I’ll turn out.
‘I saw your thesis.’ He jerks his head towards my desk. Open textbooks and the early copy of my paper lie scattered around my desk.
‘I fucking told you—’
‘I know.’
‘I told you not to—’
‘Then don’t leave it sitting there.’ He straightens himself. ‘I’ve been telling you to clean this room since you lived here.’
‘Sorry, I thought the verbal agreement we had the last time you tried to read it clarified that I want you to stay out of my shit.’
‘Again with this.’ He claps his hands together and sighs, lifting his foot to cross into my room, but his loafer just hovers over the divide, traversing his world and mine. Eventually, he lowers his foot back onto his side of the frame and lets out a breath of relief. ‘Don’t you get tired of always being so angry?’
A nerve in my temple pulses, and I imagine screaming so fucking hard my veins burst, and I drown in my own blood.
‘Where’s Mamma?’ I bite.
His eyes flash for a second. Ready for a fight. ‘Savoys’ house.’
‘Three a crowd?’
He glances back towards the bathroom door, and then, without warning, he’s on me. I blink, unsure of how I missed the moment he even began walking towards me, but it’s too late; his head is inches from mine, our noses almost brushing.
‘Excuse me?’ His breath is hot on my face, and up close, I idly wonder if this is what my nose looks like to others. ‘If you have something to say to me, say it.’
It takes very little to shake my father’s composure, but I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, and I’m still just as scared.
‘How many times have I told you.’ He grabs my chin between his pointer finger and thumb, squeezing so hard I feel my jaw beginning to crack in protest.
‘And how many times did you fuck her before I saw?’ I say through clenched teeth, my breathing ragged as I look him in the eyes so he knows. So he knows I will never forget. Even halfway across the world and a decade later, I can’t forget.
He stares at me momentarily before releasing my head and rolling his eyes. Absentmindedly rubbing my chin, I still feel his fingers pressing into me but I’m too exhausted to try to get him back. He walks to my desk and leafs through my thesis notes again. Knowing I won’t say anything this time.
‘Always so dramatic.’ He steps back and distractedly tucks his shirt into his trousers, then checks the time on his watch. ‘Put gas in the car on your way back.’
35
MAGDALEN
Theo is standing outside, smoking, when I walk up their driveway. He’s wearing another white T-shirt that’s slightly see-through, so I can see his stomach, the faint tracing of the tattoos across his ribs making it extra painful to look at him. I try to roll my suitcase quietly to buy some time, but I barely make it a few steps before he turns his head in my direction.
He stares at me and takes an inhale of his cigarette. One arm crossed over his chest, he breathes out deeply, clouding himself in his own smoke, and shakes his head before dropping it on the floor.
‘Magdalen.’
That is all he says as he walks down the driveway, which makes me realize I’ve stopped walking completely. My cheeks flush, embarrassed that he still can cause me to forget everything, even when he’s being an ass. I think of the girls at Oxford that would cry and get back with boys who broke their hearts, and how I’d roll my eyes at their silliness. I always assumed that when a man came into my life, I’d never let him affect me. But I’m no better. I would crawl on my hands and knees across this driveway to have Theo kiss me just one more time.
‘Good morning.’ He pushes his hair behind his ear, and I squeeze the handle of my luggage to stop myself from doing it for him. ‘I was just thinking about you, and then you appeared at the end of the driveway. I thought I might still be dreaming. My phantasma.’
‘Are you serious right now?’ I look behind me to see if this is a joke he’s playing on me with Dante hiding behind a rose bush.
‘I said I was just—’
‘No, I heard you.’ I turn back around to face him. ‘What happened to the “Magdalen, no offence, but I’d rather kill myself in a bath of gasoline than hang out with you for more than ten seconds.”’ I try to imitate his voice, but it comes out more like a chain-smoking bullfrog.
