Page 26 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
It used to take more than just nice legs.
How, if I wasn’t driving, my hand would have gratefully stayed on her knee and maybe travelled up her leg until I brushed the soft skin of her thighs and reached her—
Stop it.
My heartbeat quickens as I recall the sight of her skirt bunched up around her thighs.
Careful to not say anything I’d regret, I chose not to say anything. Which proved to be the wrong fucking choice.
But it doesn’t matter, I tell myself. This is good. Let her feel scorned; it’s better this way. Tomorrow will resume as normal. Yesterday was just a slight mishap in the universe. I will hang out with Dante at the club, take too many shots and dance to music I won’t remember in the morning. I’ll ask Chiara if she’d like to come to the wedding with me. She’ll say yes.
There’s no use in remembering how Magdalen looked sitting on the kitchen counter with her legs spread, hands cupping her own breasts as if she were begging me to kneel down and worship her. If I had dropped the washcloth and pressed my body into hers, slowly lowered her on the kitchen counter until her soft body was flush against mine, what would have happened?
I groan out loud, needing to expel the thought from the very cavity of my brain. My head hangs low as I walk up the stairs, trying to rid my mind of the fantasies.
No, Magdalen Savoy is not possible and you know why. Shaking off the thought, I’m walking up the steps when I hear laughter coming from the second-floor gift shop and freeze, my blood draining. My pace increases, skipping a step to reach the top of the spiral staircase until I’m behind the door. Listening to the voices: one is definitely a woman but it’s muffled by the heavy aluminium, so I can’t make out if the voices are familiar. When I check my watch, I see it’s only 7.45 a.m. No one should be here for another two hours. Bracing for impact, I push the door in, and my eyes widen in surprise.
Dr Claudio Savoy sits on the weathered leather chair, top button undone, and face red with laughter. Thinning grey hair sticks up in every direction. Claudio’s eyes are squeezed shut, trying to compose himself, but then he breaks out in a fit of laughter again. Seeing him laugh makes me want to smile. It takes me a second, but then I see he’s not alone. Turning my head, my stomach drops.
It’s Magdalen.
I blink. How did she get here before me? Shame drips over me at my callousness in the car. If I’d just pressed her, or opened my fucking mouth, we could’ve come here together.
She stands in the corner of the small office by the bookcase, leaning gracefully with her arms crossed. Her eyes are bright and mischievous as she watches her father’s fit of giggles. She is so beautiful, it hurts.
The laughter quickly dies as both their heads whip towards the direction of my intrusion. Smiles fading, Magdalen’s posture stiffens as Dr Savoy claps his hands in excitement. I try not to be embarrassed, but my heart warms against my will.
‘Theo, my boy! What a beautiful surprise! What on god’s green earth are you doing here so early?’
Momentarily caught off guard, I don’t know what to say.
Trying to avoid seeing my father?
Couldn’t sleep, I was fantasizing about your daughter without a shirt on?
Didn’t you know? You are more of my home than I’ll ever let anyone know.
‘Just checking to see you didn’t change too much since I was last here.’
‘Give me some credit. You know I wouldn’t let your papa do too much damage to our masterpiece.’ His hands brace the table, and he grunts as he stands up. The bottom button on his shirt threatens to pop open and I wonder if he still sneaks cornetti in the bottom drawer of his desk.
Walking towards me from behind his desk, Claudio nearly knocks over all the receipts, articles and torn pieces of paper with handwritten notes that clutter his desk. There are four empty cups piled next to one another. So many pens. He keeps an extra cupful underneath his desk just in case. Claudio’s desk always calmed me as a child. To know that someone so messy and so like me could be known for his brilliance. That you didn’t need to lose your chaos in order to grow up. My own father’s office mirrors this one, but one floor up. I picture it – organized, labelled and covered in locks.
‘I should have known better. After all, il museo è il quinto Savoy.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ He hobbles towards me, brown eyes behind silver-rimmed glasses. Beard peppered with grey. ‘You are the fifth Savoy!’ He gives a raspy laugh and reaches up to cup my face, squeezing my cheeks. It’s scary to think of who I might have become, if it wasn’t for this man.
‘I missed you.’ I swallow. ‘Didn’t get to tell you that last night.’
‘We missed you more, my sweet boy.’
‘Sure, sure.’ And although I have no right to ask, the question remains etched in my head. Why did you let me run away? A ridiculous question. But one I have found myself wondering all these years away.
He looks me over once more from head to toe, nodding with approval.
‘I’m glad to see you’re still handsome.’ He winks, his short body looking smaller than I remember. ‘America can make some people very ugly.’ He wags his finger in the air.
‘Papa!’ The raspy laugh across the room scolds Dr Savoy.
