Page 50 of The Summer You Were Mine
Ellie looked over at her brother again, expecting to be scolded into more smiling.
He was smiling, but not at her. He and Leo were beaming and flushed, clearly successfully flirting after a mere two occasions seeing each other in a decade.
It was more proof that she and Cris made the kind of sense reserved for other doomed pairings in this country like pineapple and pizza.
“I now declare you to be joined in—” The officiant stopped short as Simone pulled Graziella in for a kiss, making the entire group laugh.
Ben leaned out of line to wave to the waitress again, and “And I Love Her” by the Beatles played out over the speakers.
The officiant continued his concluding remarks, but Simone and Graziella were already dancing.
Everyone stood clapping, and Simone stepped back to spin his new bride slowly, never letting go of her hand.
Mario reached his hand out to Cinzia and began twirling her in the aisle.
Ugo and Franco stepped over to Renata and Pina, embracing their wives, then rocked back and forth in time with the music.
Her father wandered over to her mother, who seemed to give up on trying to ignore him and stood up, letting herself be led to an open space to dance.
Greta and Flavio spun Odetta and Ivano as Matilde tried to grab the flower petals.
In the middle of it all, Ellie stood still and let the tears come again for what felt like the millionth time in two days.
But this time, she wasn’t crying out of frustration or confusion. She was crying for love.
Cris had said goodbye to Italy countless times in the past, but never with the unshakable feeling that something was truly ending.
The twins were already on their way back to Colorado just one day after the wedding, his mom took the train to Milan earlier that morning to visit some friends for a few days, and the grandparents were getting ready to spend the next week on their honeymoon in Tenerife.
It was just him, Ellie, and the pile of shrapnel they’d left behind.
He stood hunched over the splayed-open duffel on the little bed in his old room and tried to squeeze his clothing in semi-neatly, but he was in a total fog.
It was as though he’d been dreaming for the entire week and then had been forced to wake up.
He was now in the groggy space that every dreamer knew, when there was no real way back to what magic they had felt on the other side, no matter how hard they tried.
He closed his eyes tight, trying to remain in the place where Ellie was in his arms on a warm summer night in Chiavari and anything was possible.
A door opened on the first floor of the house. Simone was probably here to take him to the airport. He’d wanted to get a taxi so his grandfather could relax for the day before his trip, but Simone wouldn’t hear of it.
“I’m ready! I’ll be down in one second!” Cris called out, but he didn’t get a response.
Of course, it wasn’t strange since his grandfather’d had swimmer’s ear so many times that he was lucky to still have any hearing at all.
Cris fit the last couple of balled-up socks into the corners of his duffel and zipped it closed.
He could hear footsteps coming up the stairs, but they sounded way too light to be Simone.
“I didn’t come here to see you,” said Ellie behind him.
Cris whirled around in shock to see her standing in the doorway in cutoff jeans and a gray tank top.
Her hair was in a ponytail and her eyes still looked puffy, but she was beautiful.
And he was the worst. “There’s still a lot of stuff to break down and bring back here from the wedding, and I took my brother off duty, but I forgot that you would still be here. ”
“It’s okay, I—” he began, but she kept talking.
“I thought it would be more awkward to come in the house, drop a box of candles, and leave without saying anything, than at least tell you I was here. So, I’m here.”
“You’re here.”
“But it’s still awkward, so I am going to go.”
“Don’t go.” He said it. He meant it. But what did he think she was going to do? Watch him stick his entire foot in his mouth as he tried to say something intelligent? “Even if it’s awkward.”
“Your grandfather is on his way over here, and I have more rolls of tulle to maneuver, so really—I’m going to leave.” Ellie turned and started back down the stairs.
“Wait!” he yelled. He fumbled in his back pocket.
“I wrote notes. A lot of them. I couldn’t decide which one was best.” Cris stood at the top of the steps and held his phone out to her, but she kept walking toward the door.
“Dear Ellie, I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am.
Dear Ellie, I didn’t think this would happen.
Please remember that. Dear Ellie, I don’t know where to begin, but I know I have to start this somehow.
I am lost. Dear Ellie…” he trailed off as she paused on the threshold.
“Stop.” Ellie stood just inside the door with her back to him, not moving.
She turned back to him, slow as melting ice.
“You may not believe this, but I have other things to worry about right now. Damn it, it’s always the same with you.
You think that because you go to therapy and say the right things, you’re doing everything right?
You’re not. So I am going to stop you.” She tipped her head back and looked up at the ceiling while pressing her index fingers into the corners of her eyes.
“We tried, okay? We are not meant to be. We never were.” She put her face down and landed her eyes on his. “Go home, Cris. Let me go home, too.”
Cris squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head. Though her footsteps echoed down the hall and out the door, he knew he couldn’t bear to watch her walk away. Again.