Loving the Campus Monster

Chapter 32 (Finding my way back)

  Laura

Four days later, my father was gone. He passed away while I read the final pages of Mostro di Firenze to him. I look up after finishing the chapter. His eyes are open, but unseeing, as if he were afraid to close them at the very end least, I stop reading and he would be left in the silence alone.

My father had spent his life surrounding by people. That is how he preferred to live- among noise and bustle of an endless parties with a multitude of colorful characters, none of whom stayed in his life for too long.

It gives me comfort to know that he didn't die in a complete silence at the end, even if mine and Holly's voice were the only companion he had during his final days.

I watch the dirt hit the lid of the coffin at his funeral, feeling overwhelming sadness for the passing of my father, but there was a little part of me filled with light instead of just consuming pain and regret. I was grateful that I was here to share these last few weeks of his life together and that we were able to mend our bond finally. I hope that I managed to make these past few weeks a little better for him too, and that he didn't leave this world with any regrets. I hope it gave him some peace in knowing that he didn't leave this earth thinking we all hated him.

I stand there with my mother and my sister on each side of me, hugging myself, rubbing the mid-morning chill of the cemetery out of my upper arms, and desperately wishing for someone else's arms around me. The weeks spent in the big empty mansion of my childhood home makes me miss human contact that much more. My mother and sister were dealing with their own grief by being distant. So that meant we barely talked or interacted all that much except when we had to. After father passed the place just became quieter and colder. It's like the place became empty of life without him there in it.

As I stare at my father's coffin being slowly covered with dirt, I try to keep myself together and not fall apart again. But it's hard. I have never felt more alone than I do right now. I would give anything for a simple warm hug. To feel strong arms wrapped around me again.

His hug.

The thoughts of him comes back once again, bringing along with it anger and disappointment, as well as confusion and longing.

During my three weeks spent away from him, those emotions had a chance to settle to the point I was able to finally think back to our last conversation more calmly.

He had lied to me. There was no excuse for a lie. Still, it could be understood, couldn't it? I believe I understood the reasons for him keeping silent about who he was.

"How long would you have stayed anywhere near me had you known who I really was?"

The answer was, I would not have. Had I known who he was from the very beginning I would have run and avoided him at all coasts.

The right thing would have been for him to tell me the truth right away. Or at the very least he should have just stayed away and never talk to me again.

But then the past few months would have never happened.

Longing swells tight around my heart at the memories of those months, most of them were the happiest time of my life. I am not ready to give those memories up, even if they were a lie.

Weren't they?

"My feelings for you are real."

I close my eyes and for the first time since I left him, I allowed myself to remember everything. The tenderness, even reverence, in his touch when he made love to me, as if he was trying to exorcise the dark memories of our past from my mind by replacing them with loving caresses. The warmth and yearning I always found in his eyes for me. The passion in his words. I fell in love with him, feeling the sincerity of it all.

He may not have told me who he truly was, but he never embellishes the kind of person he was when he spoke of his past.

Could he have truly changed?

I can't reconcile the cold, uncaring teenager I knew of back then with the loving, caring, passionate man who would go to his uncle house just for me, who helped to reawaken my love for music, who helped me to realize my dream.

Who told me he loved me.

Could anyone pretend this well to fake it all?

The person I left is not who I thought him to be, but he also wasn't the boy I remembered either, at least, not anymore. He has changed for me. And because of him I have changed too. Because of that, the least I could do is give him the chance to say sorry and to explain himself to me. I deserve to know why he did what he did.

Here at the cemetery, the permanence of death feels more acute. And all the misunderstandings of the living- including the ones between myself and the man I left behind- seems fleeting and insignificant in the face of the final infinity we all ultimately face.

Without even knowing it, my mother helped me in my decision.

'I hope you have no regrets with the life you've lived.'

If I don't at least try to find my way back to the man I've fallen in love with, I knew it would become the biggest regret in my life.