It was that moment that every lover dreads, the end of summer. The coloured umbrellas and lettini were being rinsed of the salt, sun, and sea that had plummeted them over the last three months. I watched as they were folded one by one and carefully piled away to await another summer a year from now. I sat with him, shoulders touching, watching the very last shard of the Italian sun dance across the inky blue waves set out in front of us. We sat in silence, knowing there was nothing more to be said. I was going home to start my degree and he would be staying in the sleepy town where he grew up. It had been the summer of stories, the kind that belong to books and he was the kind of boy that belonged on pages, the kind I always loved to read about and the one I would write into all the chapters of my life. More than that though, he belonged to Italy. When we were desperate, I tried so hard to imagine him in a double-breasted peacoat and tan loafers, wearing actual socks. Walking in Williamsburg on a Saturday under the amber leaves of fall or sitting with a paper coffee cup on the steps of my parents' brownstone watching the city pass by. But I simply couldn't conjure the image in my head. He has the sea running through his veins and the sun in his hair. He even tastes like the Mediterranean - foreign and forbidden, salty and yet somehow sweet. I thought about that Atticus poem, 'love her but leave her wild'. This time, the wild isn't me but him. In his heart of hearts, he knows I have to leave him even though he's been supplicating me, telling me he'll move across the Atlantic and into my one bedroom, sixth floor walkup. Naples is the furthest he's ever travelled from his hometown on the coast.
I'll come to the New York, he says, adding a superfluous article without thinking about it.
And what will you do? I ask.
Be with you, he answers.
Pleads. Be with me. It's such a simple solution but somehow, it's the simplicity of it all that hurts the most, the fact that we can't concede ourselves the beauty of simplicity because it would require one of us to live where we don't belong and isn't that the worst fate of all? To live a life that was never meant for you? He knows this too and that's why we have to say goodbye. I used to think I was a romantic, but now I realize I'm just a realist who likes a good story. I'm watching him now, drinking in every second like I'll never be able to satisfy this thirst again and maybe I won't. Maybe I'll be back here in fifty years from now, sitting under the sun with wrinkles and grey hair, a pocketbook full of photographs and a life lived and out of the corner of my eye, I'll be looking for a boy I once knew. I need to memorize him, I tell myself. His dark eyes and the way they speak Italian to me with a look. The curve of his back and the way the muscles in his jaw are tense, as if he's holding back words. It's dark now and my plane is in the morning. The couples start making their way towards the square where the smell of today's catch is beckoning. I know what waits for us- a long goodbye. The worst kind and not the ending I want for this, for us. So I turn my head, kiss him slowly and with the taste of salt and sun and everything I ever wanted on my lips, I stand up and walk away, a certain homesickness already settling itself in my stomach as the distance between us grows.
If you enjoyed this short story, you will love my book.
Wander(lust) is available on Amazon worldwide and online at major book retailers such as Waterstones, Indigo Chapters, and many others.
Click here to see it on the US site.
See more Creative Writing here.
Dear fellow Italy lovers. This is our last linkup. I don't want to write a long goodbye, they are just not for me, but I hope it's enough to say that all good things come to an end and this has been an absolute joy over the past two years, we are utterly grateful to have connected with all of you. We hope you will keep sharing the love, let's use the hashtag #DolceVitaBloggers on Instagram. Grazie a tutti.
I'll come to the New York, he says, adding a superfluous article without thinking about it.
And what will you do? I ask.
Be with you, he answers.
Pleads. Be with me. It's such a simple solution but somehow, it's the simplicity of it all that hurts the most, the fact that we can't concede ourselves the beauty of simplicity because it would require one of us to live where we don't belong and isn't that the worst fate of all? To live a life that was never meant for you? He knows this too and that's why we have to say goodbye. I used to think I was a romantic, but now I realize I'm just a realist who likes a good story. I'm watching him now, drinking in every second like I'll never be able to satisfy this thirst again and maybe I won't. Maybe I'll be back here in fifty years from now, sitting under the sun with wrinkles and grey hair, a pocketbook full of photographs and a life lived and out of the corner of my eye, I'll be looking for a boy I once knew. I need to memorize him, I tell myself. His dark eyes and the way they speak Italian to me with a look. The curve of his back and the way the muscles in his jaw are tense, as if he's holding back words. It's dark now and my plane is in the morning. The couples start making their way towards the square where the smell of today's catch is beckoning. I know what waits for us- a long goodbye. The worst kind and not the ending I want for this, for us. So I turn my head, kiss him slowly and with the taste of salt and sun and everything I ever wanted on my lips, I stand up and walk away, a certain homesickness already settling itself in my stomach as the distance between us grows.
If you enjoyed this short story, you will love my book.
Wander(lust) is available on Amazon worldwide and online at major book retailers such as Waterstones, Indigo Chapters, and many others.
Click here to see it on the US site.
See more Creative Writing here.
Dear fellow Italy lovers. This is our last linkup. I don't want to write a long goodbye, they are just not for me, but I hope it's enough to say that all good things come to an end and this has been an absolute joy over the past two years, we are utterly grateful to have connected with all of you. We hope you will keep sharing the love, let's use the hashtag #DolceVitaBloggers on Instagram. Grazie a tutti.
RSS Feed
