"So, are we going to talk about what just happened?" Anne is staring at me. Truly all I want is to be alone, or if not alone then with Elio. After we spoke he just stood up and said he needed to think about a lot, then went to his room.
"Do we need to?" my voice is so mumbled that I know if she were further away from me she'd ask me to speak up.
"I'd prefer it, but I suppose it's not a deciding factor on the end of the world," she leans back on her bed and kicks her feet up. I feel bad knowing she just wants to help me. There's just no way I can tell her what is going on. Everything between us would change. My whole life would. If I told her, then who else? Dad? That would go over with the same energy as a raging typhoon.
"I'm sorry, it's just a lot," I let a breath out and realize I'd been holding it for a minute.
A bit of silence hangs over the room like an elephant about to crash down. I can't imagine a moment where she would stand up to me, but much like always; she surprises me, "The thing is; I know it's a lot. You're always a lot. Everything about you has been exaggerated from the time you were born to this very moment. The crazy part is that you never talk about any of it. I can't even recall your favorite food because the last time you gave me that much information, we were twelve." Instead of keeping herself planted, she clicks the television off and silently puts on her shoes. Once she's at the door, she turns to me one more time, "Im giving you one last chance to tell me what's going on. If not, I'm having a drink downstairs."
When I fail to answer within the ten seconds it takes for her to get her bag together, she shakes her head and leaves. I know she's right. She usually is, but this time she's not trying to be careful. She's just saying what she wants to; something she's never had the courage to pull with me. Perhaps it's because I've always been older than her, but that doesn't strike me as something she'd care for.
I lay back and stare at the setting sun rays bouncing off the white hotel ceiling. If paint could look like light, I'd probably paint everything I could find. I remember every time I woke up in the Perlman house, I would see the light dancing across the walls. Immediately after I'd always glance to the door of Elio's room. Sometimes the door would be open, and if were there I'd just stare at him from my bed. I was always in awe of him. Italy was a whole other world from New York City, but somehow I still appreciate the same things. Perhaps it's nothing to do with destination. I turn my head to stare at the time clock. It's 6 PM now. I could go downstairs to eat, but should I risk running into a Perlman? I continue to wonder and almost leave my brain exhausted with decision until the phone interrupts me.
"Hello?"
I hear a click and a long pause. "Could you meet me downstairs?" It's Elio.
I tell him I'll be there as soon as I can and hang up. The weight on my chest should have lifted, but instead it doubles in mass. So much of my desire is relying on every interaction I make with him, and I'm horrified that I'll destroy it again. That is, if there's even anything to salvage. Looking back, I can't imagine how this looked to him. I never told him anything. All he knows is that I left promising him I'd come back. Next thing he knew, I was getting married to a woman he had never heard of. An Italian quote forces its way to the front my skull, reminding me of what I had done. A french writer by the name of A. de Saint-Exupery said in the prime of war and horrors, "Amare non è solo guardarsi l'un l'altro, ma guardare insieme nella stessa direzione."
An Italian quote by a French man; essentially translated to the idea that love requires not just looking at one another. It requires your attention elsewhere, and where ever you look you should hope it to be the the same direction.
I never looked ahead of Elio. All I ever saw was him. When I left, I was blinded by the loss of him; ending without a question asked of him. My idiotic mind never once considered what he had wanted or needed. I just made the decision for him. I will never need to be reminded of how horrible at decision making I was at that age. Let us hope all of this has made me to be wiser.
