Taste (H.S. / A.U.)

Chapter 63

ELOISE DUPONT

Today, we were supposed to catch the train to Milan, where Harry and his crew were flying in by plane. That was the plan, until I woke up around noon, matching Jade's energy. We both had pounding headaches that felt like they were echoing through our skulls.

Was it the lack of sleep catching up with us? The toll tour had taken? The altitude from yesterday's adventures? Or simply dehydration? Honestly, I couldn't say. All I knew was that nothing in this world would get me out of this bed.

I lay in my room, the weight of my exhaustion pressing down on me, staring blankly at the ceiling. My gaze drifted, tracing the patterns in the worn concrete, the faint shell designs etched into the stone. Reminding myself how and why they were there, the years of wear and tear giving the place it's deep history. It was a curious thing, looking at those imperfections and feeling a connection to the past. Maybe that was what spiraled my thoughts last night too.

Tomorrow, I had a class in Milan, and Harry had a concert. My class was in the afternoon, so I had hoped our schedules would line up just right, allowing me to attend both. But as I lay there, lost in my thoughts, I wondered if I was spreading myself too thin.

Jade felt just as bad, her energy depleted, but Ricky managed to drag her out of bed with the promise of coffee and a greasy breakfast frittata. I, on the other hand, couldn't summon the will to get up.

I just wanted to be left alone.

I closed the window, pulling the curtains tightly shut, blocking out the light except for a thin sliver that tried to sneak through the middle. That sliver of light danced across the ceiling, casting the smallest beams that shifted in and out of focus, dancing in my vision. My eyes followed the patterns, finding shapes in the shadows, as the pressure behind my eyes only grew heavier.

I refused to check my phone. I remembered the voicemail I had left Harry last night. I knew he'd never judge me for it, but in that moment, I had been too vulnerable, spilling words I now regretted. I had exposed parts of myself that I wished I'd kept hidden away. I had said too much, to Jade, to Nonna, to Harry.

There was something about being alone with my thoughts, a racing mind, that really seemed to do wonders for my headache.

That's sarcasm.

Should I get up? Probably. I should shower, put on clean clothes, go outside, touch some grass, do something productive. But my head throbbed, and it felt like it was dragging down my mental health with it.

I'd had too many good days in a row. Of course, something had to give.

I didn't just leave it at calling Harry last night. I called, then I fell asleep, only to wake up several times in the night, restlessly shifting between bad dreams.

How do you miss someone you never really knew?

I knew the scent of her perfume. My father kept a bottle of it on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet in our family home for as long as I could remember. It had only ever been half full, and over the years, the liquid had darkened, staining the glass bottle with neglect. I knew the way she liked to wear her hair, the green claw clip she always used when she was in the kitchen, now residing in a box under my bed along with other trinkets I had kept. I knew how she took her coffee, what her favorite dessert was, the little dimple she had on her left cheek. I knew the sound of her laugh from the home videos my father had once taken.

I never really knew her, but I knew everything about her.

Perhaps it was spending time with Nonna that had stirred up too many memories of everything I had ever longed for in life. She reminded me of a warm, loving family, the kind of bond where someone is there to show you the ropes, to guide you, to be a constant in your world. I guess I had Harry now, a loving partner who would probably do anything for me, but that couldn't fill the void of missing a family. There was something so concrete, so undeniably whole about having people who loved you without conditions, who were there with an emotional support that didn't waver, no matter the storm. Family.