Page 4 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
‘Yeah, I guess.’ I blushed, pleased that she would find my brief company enjoyable enough to room with for an entire year. ‘As long as he doesn’t join us.’
She stopped walking and stared at me, and I felt my throat close up with embarrassment, a stupid joke too soon made. I didn’t even know her last name.
As I was about to apologize, she threw her head back and laughed. ‘Oh, we will never see him again.’ Her body shivered at the thought of the mystery man. She locked her arm around mine, and without prompt, began talking about dreams, horoscopes and Russian literature. From that one moment, I felt I had worth at Oxford. Even if I failed my classes or never received another party invitation again. I had her. Emily, Emilia I’d call her in the Tuscan sun, my guardian angel.
3
THEO
Jesus fucking Christ, Theo. Just walk.
She stands there in a red top that shouts ROME pacing the airport baggage claim in search of me. For a moment, I feel like hiding, knowing that seeing her for the first time in all these years will change my course. Unsure, however, if this path is the dangerous, violent and regrettable choice or the one I should have taken seven years ago. I cough, loud enough for her to hear, and she responds without fail, her head jerking at the sound. She jumps up and down in frenzied excitement, clapping her hands and shrieking.
‘Theo! We’ve been waiting for ever! Come here, right now!’ Anika leaps towards me, her arms outstretched, preparing for a hug.
I notice she is alone. The ‘we’ she refers to is out of habit. I prefer her to them and expected my Houdini act would not be forgotten with the purchase of a fucking plane ticket. But I let myself feel it for one second; after seven years, just her left. Shit. This is going to be a long fucking summer.
‘I missed you too,’ I say, her force causing me to lose my breath. She smells of fresh sunscreen and fig perfume; my eyes close at the nostalgia that brushes over my skin, curls the roots of my hair, and I breathe in deeply. She smells of home. Chivasso has been home since I was seven and my father took us out for ice cream and told us we’d be leaving Edinburgh. I remember the sound of Mamma’s clapping. Her ice cream spoon clattering against the table. She was so excited to return home. To reunite with Vittoria.
‘I can’t believe you’re real!’ Anika squeezes her arms around my waist, gripping so tight it begins to sting.
‘I’d forgotten how big you are!’
‘Right,’ I mumble in her hair, enjoying but never revealing how much I love her missing me. I feel like a brother again, giddy and eager to impress.
‘Haven’t grown since I was seventeen. I think maybe you’re just getting smaller?’ I say to the top of her head. Anika is a foot shorter than me, making it easy to want to protect her. Although I would never fucking think about saying that to her.
‘Shut up. Maybe if you came home every once in a while, I could have prepared for this gargantuan height!’ Her tone is light, but within her words lies my abandonment. She has not forgiven me yet, either. Didn’t think I’d get off that easy, anyway.
She lets go of my waist to look up at my face. Taking her hand, she squeezes my chin with two fingers, forcing my head to look side to side, examining and probing me like a lab rat.
‘Since when did you become such a stud?’
I take her hand in mine and kiss her palm. ‘I came out of the womb a stud, Anika. Don’t forget it,’ I say with a wink.
She snorts and slaps me on the shoulder. ‘Disgusting!’ she screams, and then tries to pry the luggage out of my hand.
‘The girls in Chivasso will have a field day with you, Theo. You better be careful, it’s still a small town and if you fuck someone, I’ll know in three to five hours after completion.’
‘Jesus, Anika. It’s 8 a.m. Can we not make this the first topic of conversation?’ I jerk my hand away so she misses the handle of my bag. ‘I can carry my own bag,’ I gruff, annoyed that she tried to take it in the first place.
I grab the handle with determination, feeling the need to prove that I have become a grown adult in the seven years she hasn’t seen me. She rolls her eyes but drops her hand, letting me take the luggage handle.
‘No way I’m starting shit with any girls,’ I clarify, wanting it understood that I really have fucking learned.
‘I give you three days.’
‘Oh, come on. You haven’t seen me in seven bloody years. I’m not a Neanderthal,’ I swallow, hoping if I say the words out loud, they’ll be true.
‘Fine. Let’s make it four.’
‘Fuck you, Anika.’
‘And it’s like you never left!’ She prances ahead of me, spinning in circles, barging into airport employees and people waiting for their luggage who stare with disapproval. Her hair is much longer than I remember. Dark and black like our mother’s, and it swings heavily as she trots away.
Within minutes, the tension from the plane ride dissolves. Seven years away. Four in New York. Three in Connecticut. It was easier not to feel guilty when I couldn’t see her face. But now? I release a breath.
This was the right choice.
