COMPLICATED.

CHAPTER 36

LONDON, HERE I AM!

I feel my breath hitch and catch in my throat the moment I find myself before the boarding gate. The word "LONDON" flashes with an almost cold, ruthless light on the massive electronic display of imminent departures. I am a shapeless mass of raw nerves; too many conflicting emotions are battling inside me at this instant, and the airport air suddenly feels heavy and insufficient. I try in vain to swallow, but my throat is so parched and dry that it feels exhausting to even articulate a coherent thought, let alone speak.
Around me, the frantic flow of people rushing impatiently toward their gates only fuels my sense of displacement. As panic bites at my stomach, I remain motionless, planted right there in the center of the hall, desperately searching for the strength to move even a single step. I am certain of my choice, I am happy-of course I am! But it is a happiness that burns. I want to be like one of those people who know exactly where they are going, yet at the same time, I feel an uncontrollable urge to turn on my heels and flee. I want to grab Nick's hand and run toward our secret refuge in Central Park, that hidden spot near the piccola plant with violet flowers that smells of freedom.
I shake these thoughts away with a flick of my head. My eyes settle on the immense glass window reflecting the metallic silhouette of the plane that is about to take me away. Meanwhile, one of the many flight attendants crackles over the microphone, asking everyone to prepare their documents. With trembling fingers, I rummage through the front pocket of my backpack: passport, ID, and finally, the ticket. Only by looking at it do I realize what a crazy and expensive purchase it was. I look up when my father points toward an entrance significantly more luxurious than the one for the masses.
"First class?" I ask, turning toward him with a raised eyebrow.
"Your mother's fault," he chuckles, raising his hands in surrender.
"Obviously," I reply, and between one laugh and another, I feel the tension ease for a moment. My plan to blend in with common people is failing miserably before I've even taken off. Thanks, Mom-you always manage to make things "easy" for me!
"You'll certainly succeed in your goal," Nick intervenes, reading my mind as he always does.
"I wouldn't be so sure, though I understand you. Certainly, at the Royal, there will be the best of the best from all of England..." my father continues, with a mix of pride and worry.
"And I'll bring the best of all New York!" I joke, drawing an invisible halo above my head with my hands, despite my fingers continuing to shake.
"If not of all America!" Nick shouts loudly.
His words echo through nearly the entire airport, drawing curious stares from passersby. My father bursts out laughing and I find myself following him, infected by his boisterous cheer.
"More than anything, they'll be very wealthy there-let's say, all the 'musician' children of the greatest English families..." Dad starts again, turning serious.
"It can't be said that I wasn't born and raised in a wealthy family; I think it won't be that complicated," I retort immediately, trying to reassure him. He, however, shakes his head with a pensive look that tightens my heart.
"Sweetheart, you know you've never been forced to be something you're not in our family. Not even by your mother."
I can't argue back because he's right. They never imposed anything on me, but I am the one who always felt the duty to be perfect, to be the piece that completed the mosaic of our ideal family. But after Leonard and the disaster that followed, I can no longer and do not want to pretend. I am leaving for this very reason: to stop acting. I know my last name will precede me, but I will do everything to make the real Emma known, not that porcelain doll I've pretended to be since I was a piccola girl. The real Emma Hamilton... but first, I have to figure out who she is. This thought keeps hammering in my head like an incessant rhythm.
Returning to reality, I see that my best friend and my father are staring at me, waiting. Nick whispers with only the movement of his lips for me to empty my mind and stay calm. I simply nod.
"Yes, I know. I'll do my best, Dad," I say all at once.
My father's phone begins to vibrate insistently in his pocket. He checks the screen with a grimace and rejects the call without hesitating.
"Absurd, they always have to ruin everything," he mutters under his breath.
"It's not a problem, go ahead and answer. Maybe I have a few minutes and I can make the plane wait; I think that's one of the many privileges of the 'rich,'" I tell him sweetly to soothe him.
"'Rich,' please!" he repeats in a low voice, faking agonizing pain. I haven't seen him this stressed in a long time, yet his mood swings have only become frequent in the last few days. That person trying to steal his agent must be truly hateful!
"Absolutely not. It's not even worth my time, and besides, you are always more important than any business deal, or anyone."
I smile at him gratefully, but that warmth disappears as soon as the voice on the loudspeaker calls the passengers for my flight. The attendant at the first-class gate is impeccable, her movements fluid and practiced as she points the way. I press a hand to my chest, feeling my heart pounding hard. I have to regulate my heartbeat; I can't give in to tachycardia right now.
"I can't believe my piccola girl is going away," Dad suddenly sobs.
I stand there stunned. My father, crying? It's only happened once before, years ago, for one of Mom's surprises. Seeing him so vulnerable breaks me and, at the same time, almost embarrasses me.
"Mom is infecting us; we're all becoming crybabies."
"Can I run away with you?" he exclaims, taking mock steps toward the boarding gate.
"Henry, with all due respect, you wouldn't survive a single minute without Theresa," Nick intervenes with a lopsided smile. True, without Mom in New York, the apocalypse would break out.
"Sure, but I'm an emotional man now; she must be secretly making me swallow female hormones..."
"I think it's a good sign if you've become like this!" Nick replies. We stare at him, confused.
"If she makes you like this, it means she's the right woman..." Nick murmurs, seeking my eyes for an instant.
Hearing those words right now is torture. Not after what we've lived through, not now that I'm leaving. He thinks I don't care, but it's my only defense: I have to wear my cold armor so I don't collapse. I look away and he does the same. I wonder if he is also feeling this void widening.
"I have no doubt about that, son," my father confirms.
The final call for the United Kingdom echoes in the hall. I gather my suitcases and backpack. This is it. I thought it would be easy, but every second that passes makes everything more unbearable. Nick checks that the bags are closed tightly, while Dad holds me in an embrace that tastes like home. I'll miss not being able to sink into his scent whenever I need it. I have to hold on until Thanksgiving. I have to make it.
I hold him tight, trying to steal some strength from him for the journey.
"I won't give you the lecture your mother gave you; you know I'm not like that. Just one thing I can ask of you..." he whispers in my ear. I pull back to look at him: he has the expression of someone who has to tell you something vital.
"Keep your eyes wide open and watch who appears in front of you; ignore strangers and don't believe everything people say."
"Alright, that's enough," I say, annoyed by the mysterious tone.
"Emma, listen to me..."
"No, Dad, no 'Emma' today. You've been saying these things since I told you about London. What are you hiding from me?"
He lowers his gaze, then turns serene in a flash.
"They are just recommendations."
"I don't believe you. What's going on?"
"Nothing, I promise you. It's just that I'm still not used to the idea of you going to the other side of the world. I want you to know the risks."
I lift his chin with a finger to scrutinize him: he seems sincere. And he never breaks promises.
"Is that all? For sure?"
He moves my hair behind my ears, smiling with red cheeks.
"Absolutely sure. Now go, or you'll miss the flight. Remember to change your money as soon as you arrive. Call me when you land, okay?"
"And if the nightmares get worse, I'm here at any hour," he adds in a breath. I nod, unable to speak, and hug him one last time.
"I love you, Dad. I'll be fine, I promise."
"I know. I'll wait for you in the car," he says to Nick, giving him a pat on the chest before walking away without looking back, toward the exit.
I'm left alone with Nick. He stares at the floor, rocking nervously on his feet. I see his Adam's apple move, his fingers intertwining frantically. His hands are sweaty. Is it the heat or is he suffering as much as I am? I feel like I'm suffocating. I take a tissue from my backpack to wipe my forehead and, when I turn around, I jump: he is a millimeter away from me. His chest is against mine, his face close to my lips. I don't have the strength to move away.
"Damn it, Nick!" I exclaim with a nervous laugh. I have to break this spell.
"You almost scared me..."
"That wasn't the reaction I was expecting," he replies, leaning down to pick up the tissue I dropped. I'll miss his raspy voice, the way he moistens his lips before speaking. Details that will become only memories on the phone.
"And I didn't want this silence to fall either."
"Sorry, I was..."
"Thinking?" he finishes for me. Finally, he looks up and stares at me with those pale green eyes. I lose myself in them.
"Exactly," I sigh.
"As always," he chuckles.
"Exactly again."
He suddenly grabs my waist, pulling me to him. I'm left breathless. My hands rush to his shoulders so I don't fall, but I know he would always support me. Yet with him, I feel constantly on the edge, as if I were falling into something too big for me. And I hate not being in control. Or at least, I used to hate it.
"First rule for the new Emma?" Nick whispers against my forehead.
I look at him lost, then arch my eyebrows asking for help. He moves even closer, his warm breath on my lips.
"Stop thinking. Don't ask yourself too many questions. Just act."
Act? If I were to act now, I would erase these millimeters that separate us. Would the new Emma do it? I don't want to think anymore. I just want him. I slide my hand behind his neck, grabbing his hair and bringing his face to mine. He smiles, our noses touch. I'm about to kiss him.
But his phone rings. Dammit. A sign of fate or my usual bad luck?
"I'm sorry, it might be my mother, she wasn't well..." he curses, retrieving the phone.
"Answer, actually I'll text her to say goodbye!" I say, trying to take the phone.
"No wait, it's not my mother," Nick says, but it's too late. I read the message on the screen.

Hi! I'm already here at Central Park, near the lake. Waiting for you here, as agreed. Can't wait to see you. See you soon! :) -Kya.

Freeze. Central Park. Our place.

"Please, don't be angry, it's not what you think," he whispers in a panic.
Suddenly, I can't wait to get on that plane.
"Say something, Emma."
Hearing my name like that hurts. Anxiety, disappointment, jealousy... why should I be jealous? I'm just his best friend. I'll be in London, he'll be here. He has to move on with his life and Kya seems perfect. My eyes burn, but I won't cry. I don't have the right.
"There's no need to explain, Nick. I'm happy for you."
"Don't do that."
"Go, Nick. I don't want to miss my flight and you don't want to be late for your date."
"You're lying," he says, squeezing me.
"Why would I? It's time you find a nice girl. Elisa would be happy."
Run, Emma. Run while you can.
"What are you saying?! You promised it wouldn't all end!"
Please, let me go. The flight attendant invites me to reach the tunnel.
"I have to go, I'll text you when I arrive."
I hug him one last time, breathing in his scent. A tear escapes me and wets his shirt. He strokes my hair, whispering something confused.
"Miss, it's time," the attendant insists.
"Emma, I..."
"I really mean it, I'm happy for you. Don't make it harder. Go."
His gaze is a torment. He shakes his head to hide the tears.
"Look at me," I whisper to him. He raises his reddened eyes.
"It won't end."
It's a promise. I plant a kiss on his cheek and pull away abruptly, following the hostess into the tunnel. I don't look back. If I do, I'll collapse.
On the plane, the safety instructions are just background noise. My phone keeps trilling with Nick's messages, but I don't answer. I don't want to read that I "misunderstood." Nick is going out with another girl, period. I must repress everything, lock the feelings in a drawer.
No more lies. No more acting. No more boys. No more thinking about us.
Him with Kya, me alone. I'll study, I'll sing, I'll become someone in London. No distractions. No love. Only hard work.
I activate airplane mode. I put on my headphones. Sia sings "The Greatest" in my ears as we lift off the ground.
Next destination: my new life.
"Don't worry, your roommate will show you everything," the coordinator says, walking at a marching pace toward the dorms. I am destroyed after seven hours of flight.
"Miss Hamilton, faster! We want efficient people here!" she exclaims, snapping her fingers. Starting off well.
"I'm sure, Mrs..."
"Winton," she interrupts sharply.
The phone vibrates again. She looks at it like it's trash.
"No parties, no noise, and especially... no nightly visits from boyfriends. Penalty: expulsion."
"That won't be a problem," I mutter.
"Pardon?"
"All clear."
We cross luxurious hallways full of portraits and mirrors. We arrive at room 306.
"Here is the key. Tomorrow, a tour with your roommate. She's from America; you'll get along. Welcome."
I'm left alone. I open the door, drag the heavy suitcases, and throw myself inside.
"I'm in the bathroom, be right out!" a familiar voice shouts from behind a door.
I jump. That voice... no, I'm dreaming from exhaustion. I kneel to open the first suitcase.
"I hope you brought my frame too!"
I turn around and see a girl in a towel combing her wet black hair. I stand there with my mouth open.
"ARIA?!"
"SURPRISE, HAMILTON!"