Page 98 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
‘How was your trip?’ he asks again, not letting go of my hand.
‘I just told you.’ I frown. Does he not remember just asking me that?
‘You told me how the trip was for Lucia.’
I stare at him, unable to think of anything to say. I’m in love. I gave him all I could offer and it still wasn’t enough.
‘Fine. Fun,’ I manage to say. ‘You know Anika always makes everything exciting.’
‘Good. I’m happy you have Anika.’ He pats my hand, giving me a small smile before picking up his cornetto again.
‘How was everything at home?’ I ask. ‘Mother ban sweets again?’
‘Your mamma doesn’t understand that sweets are the reason our marriage has been successful for thirty years. She’s never known me without my sweets!’
I laugh, happy he’s found a way to his cornetto. ‘Did you do anything with the Sinclairs?’
Chewing slowly, he picks up the handkerchief on his desk to clean the cornetto left on his beard, and swallows.
‘We see the Sinclairs less and less.’ My father shrugs. ‘Since most of you left, we have no reason to get together any more.’
‘But you’re best friends. How can you say you don’t have a reason to get together?’
‘Listen, I respect Dexter professionally. He’s a hard worker and extremely intelligent. But, amore, he was never my friend. I never liked the way he treated his children, never understood the recreational activities. And I hear the rumours,’ – he looks at me knowingly and my skin prickles – ‘about the women.’ He sighs. ‘But your mother and Cinzia are inseparable, have been since college. Who was I to ruin that?’
I stand there completely baffled. To think of my father as someone separate from my mother, as someone with a before, someone with hidden feelings and things that keep him up at night, is difficult to process. Has he sacrificed his friendships, his Saturday nights, for the sake of our family? It feels like someone has gone into my memories and erased the best parts. My entire life, our families were stitched together like a quilt, catching me whenever I fell. You couldn’t tell where the Sinclairs ended and the Savoys began; we were a singular unit.
‘But we did everything with them growing up. You always went off to the side and talked and drank the grappa and, hello? The museum!’ I smack my head in dismay. ‘You run the museum together!’
My father’s deep green eyes stare into mine. ‘It was fate that we were both passionate about the same things.’
‘How can you call it fate when it made you unhappy?’
‘Because she took it as fate. And she’s who I listen to.’ She, meaning my mother.
I smack my lips together, instantly angry that she’s found a way into this conversation without being here.
‘You can’t always treat her like she’s God, Papa. She’s not perfect.’
‘Oh, but she’s perfect for me. You’ll understand when you find your person.’
My stomach flips, acidic rage burning at my father’s naiveté when it comes to her. My papa’s brilliance shines through every corner of the world. We could be walking through the desert, flying in a cloud bank, ankle-deep in the Ganges river, and he would know something about it. My mother is the one thing he’ll never fully understand. And he fucking loves the chase.
‘We both know that will never happen.’
He stops chewing the cornetto and looks up at me, the surprise evident even behind his glasses. ‘Magdalen.’ Shock and disappointment run through every letter of my name.
‘You know it, Papa. Mother thinks it, too. Dante, Lucia. I see the way you all look at me. It’s like...’ The words feel thick and rotten in my mouth. ‘I feel like I’ve been running my whole life just to look up and see I’ve been in the same spot the whole time.’ Tears blur my vision, and I try to blink them away before he notices. I ran away just to come back to this same town and be used again.
‘Ah.’ He sits back in his chair, resting his elbows on the arm piece and nodding his head, calculating my problems to formulate the correct response. Even now that I’m twenty years old, my papa can unravel my problems and give them back to me tied with a neat bow.
‘You sound scared.’ He smiles. Only he could smile while it feels like my heart has been hollowed out.
‘Why would I be scared?’
‘Don’t cringe when I say it...’ He shakes his finger at me and I concede by sitting on the corner of his desk, hands tucked underneath my legs to prevent any cringing. He smiles again and strokes his beard twice before speaking. ‘I think you may have found your person.’
‘Papa...’
