Gianluca Ginoble and I

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Though I was hurting, I understood that I wasn’t missing a part of me; I was missing Gianluca. He was a real, living, breathing, wonderful boy worth waiting the whole summer for. I was in love with him, and he was in love with me, and we would both hang on until we could be together again, because our relationship was strong enough to handle the stress. I longed to see him, kiss him, hug him, and every day I yearned for him to be there with me.

But I refused to lie in my room all day and cry. I woke in the morning and went exploring like I always did, I read my books, and I worked on writing stories. I was living in a constant waiting period, waiting for Gianluca to come back. It was painful, being away from the one I loved so much, and I cried a few times, and I cuddled his T-shirt because it smelled like him. I sat on his porch a few times to watch the sunrise and pretend he was there with me, and I always wore his necklace.

I went places with my school friends to distract myself from the ache, and Piero and Ignazio took me with them to meet-and-greets, and to interviews, and kept watch over me like guards.

The time difference between my home and Abruzzo was too great for Gianluca to tell me goodnight, but every day he called me at sunrise to tell me good-morning, and tell me how much he missed and loved me. I talked to him while I got up and readied myself for another day without him beside me. We video-chatted a few times, though we agreed that the lag was an annoyance. He sent me a bottle of sand from the Abruzzo beach, a bottle of dirt from the mountains, some pressed flowers from a field, and a bottle of wine as a joke, which I willingly handed over to my mother.

I took our separation one day at a time, and eventually an entire week had passed, but I couldn’t help thinking of the many more that lay ahead.

Every day I missed him and longed for him, but I kept myself dreaming about our reunion.

It’s only the summer. Many couples have had to wait longer.

Day by day I went about my life without him, and doing so didn’t seem to be getting easier. I listened to Il Volo albums on repeat, and “I Bring You to My Senses” became my anthem.

I bought a calendar to track the days, which I had never done before.

I hung it up and crossed off the days we had been apart one by one.

When our separation reached two weeks, I had a lot of things I wanted to tell him, but was unsure of how to do so over the phone, as my thoughts weren’t very organized. So I took out a pen and paper, went out to the garden, and wrote page after page of my thoughts for him, noting everything I loved about him.

Piero and Ignazio came over and sat beside me just as I finished. I neatly folded it up and stuck it in a plain white envelope, and wrote Gianluca’s name on the front, impulsively adding the “Ginoble” as he had done in his letter to me at the beginning of the summer.

“What are you doing?” Piero asked.

“I wrote a love letter. You’ll think it’s very sappy, but I hope he likes it. I don’t want to send it off in the mail, though. I think maybe I’ll keep it and give it to him when he gets back.”

I clutched it to my chest and sighed.

“Actually, though, I’ll probably lose it before he returns! Dang it! How am I ever going to keep it safe until he returns!?”

“I can keep it, if you would like me to,” Piero offered, then raised his right hand and drew an “X” over his heart. “I promise that I won’t read it! I won’t lose it if you give it to me, and I’ll keep it for you until he gets back. Only if you want me to, though.”