a work in progress

Chapter 16 - Mama Knows Best

"MC?" Luca called from his bathroom.

"Yes sir?"

"Mamma just called and said that my dad is pretty sick, so I'm going to head up to see them this weekend."

"Do you have anything due for class? You cleared everything with your faculty right?"

"My dad is ill MC. He could die for God sakes, why are you lecturing me on being responsible?"

"There is no lecture here Luca; I was just making sure that while you're attending to this stressor you're not inadvertently creating a new one. Calm down," I said making my way next to him, staring at our reflections in the mirror.

"Don't tell me to calm down," he practically yelled, leaving the bathroom and pacing in his bedroom. "Why can't you just support me?"

Our fighting banter had come back to haunt us. Luca's graduate program was coming to a close and he was trying to decide where he'd do his externship and he was still in counseling with Dr. Levi. I hated her; she seemed to help Luca blame a lot of what went wrong in his life on me. I was too clingy, but then I was too distant. I was too overbearing but then I wasn't attentive enough. I supported him in all the wrong ways and I was simultaneously a distraction. We never had good days when he had a session. It was always, Dr. Levi says this and Dr. Levi says that. I'd never met her, but I surely wanted to punch her in the face. Luca started distancing himself more and more. He always volunteered for extra hours at his internship, and he randomly joined a tennis league – when he'd never played a game of tennis in his life.

In the thick of it I found myself filling in the gaps left by Luca's new activities. I picked up some extra shifts working with my mom at her studio. I did jazz before class, intermediate ballet Tuesdays and Thursdays at lunch, and advanced lyrical and modern just after dinner. We barely saw one another, and when we did see each other, in an effort to avoid an untimely verbal sparring match, we kept our dialogue to pleasantries and platitudes.

"Luca," I spoke slowly, walking toward him and making sure to breathe and choose my words wisely. "How can I support you? How can I better this experience for you?" I added, sliding my hands atop his shoulders, beginning a comforting massage.

"Are you patronizing me?" he asked indignantly as he stood expressing disgust with my gesture and verbiage.

"Luca," I began. "I'm trying really hard to be what you need me to be. I'm not patronizing you. I'm not mocking you. I'm not, not supporting you. I want to be there for you, and asking how is the only way I know to ensure that I actually do that. Please. Tell me what you would have me do."

"Well," he huffed, "I just need some space. Some time to get my wits about me."

"To get your wits about you," I began to joke at his uncharacteristic cliché usage, but quickly remembered the severity of the present moment. "Fine," I added collecting my belongings. "Do you need a ride to the airport?"

"No. I'll have the shuttle come pick me up."

"Okay. Luca?" I called as I made my way to his front door.

"Yeah?" he asked, not yet emerging from his bedroom.

"I really don't want what we have to be broken, and I'm doing all that's in my power to hold us together," I sighed still inching toward the door.

"I know we're not technically fighting because this seems to be a continual conversation, but whenever we've fought we said if there was more bad than good we'd part ways so we could preserve the friendship," I grabbed hold of the door frame to support me as I continued, frightened of the words exiting my mouth.