Cleo Miranda Adams is a part-time clerk at a small antique shop and an aspiring guitarist. Music has been part of her life since birth. After a tough loss, she focuses on building a name for herself and doing what she loves.
Billionaire and perfecti...
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"Solo restando abbracciati possiamo volare. We are angels with only one wing; only embracing each other are we able to fly," my throat constricts. How?
"Did you say 'Mia'? As in Mia Adams?" I'm sure they can see the hope in my eyes.
"Leo," I hear Gia. Chris' hand gently squeezes my thigh.
"Did you say, Mia?" I ask again. The suspense is killing me.
"Sí. Mia Adams. She was my best friend in college. How do you–"
"She was my mother," I croak out. I try to file through my memories to see if I can remember this woman. "She- she gave me that guitar."
Eleanor looks at me. Something that looks like nostalgia flashes in her eyes. "Dio mio, I see it now. You have her eyes, her nose. You're the spitting image of her," she wipes the tears that run down her cheeks.
"Alright. Gia, Mateo, I can use your help in the kitchen," Chris says sensing the million questions I have running in my mind. I smile at him gratefully before kissing him.
"One question at a time, babe," Gia tells me. The three of them leave, and the silence fills the room once again. I start to pick at my nail polish when Eleanor speaks, "You said she gave you the guitar?"
I nod, "For my birthday." I smile fondly at the memory. "She never told me what the quote meant though," I said as I walked over to my guitar. I picked it up off the stand, dusting my hand over the engraved saying.
I handed it to Eleanor. Her teary eyes set on the carved treasure. "We are angels with only one wing; only embracing each other are we able to fly," she recites the quote in English. "To her, it meant that we will always need people. Whether you're in your prime, or in the crappiest part of your life, you will always need people. Their love, support, sometimes even their betrayal. Every person who comes into your life comes with a purpose."
My eyes automatically seek out Chris and Gia. Eleanor couldn't have been more right. The two of them have a purpose in my life. Gia's is to be my smile, and my laugh, to give me strength and do dumb stuff with me. Chris' purpose is to love me in spite of all my shortcomings, to be my light and my sparkle. To make me laugh every day, to snuggle me into his arms and tell me everything will be okay. To push me beyond my limits.
As if he knew I was looking at him, his blue eyes find mine, and he blows me a kiss. Yeah, I'm a goner.
My mother always keep the meaning of the saying a secret, said I would find out one day.
Maybe I'm thinking too far, but maybe she knew I would meet Eleanor one day. Maybe she knew Chris and his annoying self was going to lead me to her best friend. The one person who can answer that question is no longer. "How have I never met you before?" I can't help but ask.
She sighs and leans into the chair. I sit next to her, studying her face as she recalls her time with my mother. "I met Mia when she first came to Italy. She was like a lost puppy. She bumped into me looking for a bus stop. I gladly showed her the way, only for her to lose the address. I swear that woman was like a fish out of water when I first met her. I didn't know Sergio at the time so after a year of friendship, we decided to become roommates. We had so much fun. We both loved the guitar," she smiles. "I've never seen a woman more in love with music than her. But one day, something changed. She stopped playing so often until she didn't play at all. I finally got the courage to ask her but all my questions were answered when she brought him home."
Him?
"Lorenzo," she simply says. "From the moment I saw him, I sensed something was wrong. I mean, he was a handsome man with his curly hair and grey eyes but his presence made the room seem small. He made her small. That day, she told me she was moving in with him," her voice breaks. "I begged her not to go. I pleaded but she just hugged me and walked out the door. She took a piece of me that day. She was my best friend. She never reached out. I'm assuming it was because of him. He kept her under lock and key."
My jaw drops at the story. I didn't know much about my father. My mom always avoided the topic. "I had no idea."
Eleanor just nods. "She was a private person with those things." She fixes my guitar and starts to strum. I look at her in awe. This is the closest I've felt to my mother since her death. She starts to play 'My Funny Valentine,' and it's a wave of nostalgia. "She said that she would play this for her children. Did she?" she looks at me.
"She did. Every single night. Even when I visited from college," I laugh.
Eleanor bursts out laughing. "Sounds like her." I lay my head on her shoulder as she plays. The emotions hit me and I begin to tear up. Thank you, mom. I don't know if you planned this but wherever you are, thank you.
At that moment, I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
