Played like a Guitar

Chapter 9 : Ghosts of the Past

"What's meant to be will always find a way." - Trisha Yearwood

***

This morning I felt particularly tired. The alarm clock woke me up from the most wonderful dream, where I was in the middle of the ocean on a small rowboat, sailing towards somewhere that felt logical at the time, but could no longer remember now that I was awake.

The dream occupied my mind until I reached the university during my morning walk. The sun rays nourished me like a plant, I put my favorite morning playlist on and was ready to have a productive day. Part of my morning routine was observing people on the way, guessing what they were talking about, what problems they might have and their current relationship status. A lady in her late forties with highly fashionable designer clothes certainly worth thousands of euros, a pair of black shield sunglasses and leather boots was talking on the phone, clearly in distress and a breath away from murdering the person on the other side of the line. "Hmm, let's see. Her name is Donatella, widow of a successful chief executive officer, no children, pissed off at her house maid for putting an extra grain of sugar in her coffee-to-go, risking her of getting a coronary disease!" Leo chuckled out loud, making the lady turn around and send us a deadly warning with her eyes that if we were to continue mocking her, we'd would end up like her dead husband.

"Okay, my turn." - he scanned the people in front of us, trying to find someone that stands out. "Oh, that guy!" - he pointed discretely at a young man sporting a baseball cap turned sideways, a tank top and underwear peaking from his loose jeans. "Jesus, look at his red eyes. My man's so high, he can barely walk in a straight line! He probably got wasted during a wild frat party and is now stuck wandering the streets in search of his dormitory." I cringed, fully aware of how ridiculous and immature we were playing this godawful game, but I was glad to call someone like him my friend. He didn't look Italian with his cute wavy blonde hair, blue eyes and baby face. Leonardo just screams "fun" when you look at him, trying his best to brighten up the atmosphere with his unerasable smile, someone you can count on during tough times. He would always walk me home after our wild outings, worried that I was incapable of taking care of myself, being entirely new to the busy city and trusting people way too easily.

Once college started and everyone went their separate ways, I cut ties with most of my friends as it was difficult to stay in touch even with today's electronics. During our brief encounters in Manchester, most of the conversations revolved around our childhood memories, as if we were unable to create new ones. Despite how glad I was to have spent the past three years in Thess, my search for reliable friendships was unsuccessful since we only gathered for assignments and during exam seasons. Scrolling through social media, I found out Athena had a new partner and although it made me feel empty, I wished her all the best in this world, everything I was unable to provide her. I had my chance and I blew it consciously. No regrets, no complaints.

I was slowly starting to accept the fact that I was now a (mostly) independent adult living on my own in a building with humble and cheap studios designed for students. Leaving dad alone again wasn't easy, I felt guilt seeing him tearing up at the airport. We spent three wonderful years together, but I couldn't stay there forever, my visions for the future were elsewhere. I didn't spend much time in the studio either way, preferring to study in the incredible library the university had to offer. It's grandiose interior, wooden textures and endless assortment of books made me feel like I was in the forbidden sections of the Hogwarts library. Afterwards we would usually gather up and have picnics in the various parks that graced Rome with greenery and animal life, just discussing random things that came to our minds. It surely beat staying in those twenty squared meters alone with my thoughts. I got used to sleeping in an empty bed by then, but the silence was unbearable.