“As much as it hurts to say this, and it does, Matteo, the thought of you …” I shake my head and look down.
“Tris,” he whispers my name.
I hold my hand over my heart. “If you are, in fact, one million percent sure, then why would you deny spending time—”
“My death would come much earlier if I had to see you saddened and consumed by the thought for, as you said, every beat that remains. The thought of you not taking comfort in whatever this”—he shakes his head — “unexplainable connection we have would weaken me. Knowing that I did that to you, I would surely spend an eternity in a place far worse than hell.”
“Marrying her would be a fate worse than that. I have one concert left. One, and then you and I can rest, breathe, love. God, Matteo”—I close my eyes — “I don’t want to waste time.” I open them. “And I truly don’t want to say this, but I have to.”
“What is it?” he whispers as he looks between my eyes.
“It’s so horribly cliché, but apparently, this is the day for them to all ring true.” I think about what I said to Patrick minutes ago and look back up. “I’d rather be loved by you and lost than never to be loved by you at all. Simply meeting you has brought a calm to me that I’ve never felt. Being loved by you …” I sigh as I shake my head then whisper, “and being allowed to love you, I can’t even imagine what that will be like. I never believed in fate, Matteo, but this feels a lot like it.” I feel tears brewing and, knowing they are going to fall soon, I smile. “You sleep well.”
“Tris.”
“After my show, I want you to tell me and my heart if we get to love you for the rest of—”
“You’re making this incredibly difficult.”
“That’s the plan.” I blow him a kiss then hit end. I even manage to plug my phone in before I lay down and cry.
A light knock on the door stops me, and I wipe my eyes before looking back.
“You okay?” Tricks asks, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the doorframe.
“Yeah, of course. You?”
He pushes off the doorframe and walks over, sitting on the bed and crossing his arms over his chest. “Momma Joe—”
“Made you come in and make up with me.”
“No,” he huffs.
“Without saying the actual words go in and make up with Tris, she totally did.”
He looks back and adjusts his body so he’s facing me. “You can’t do this to yourself, Tris.”
“Oh my God, Patrick,” I groan as I flop back. “Can’t you see this as the good thing that follows the bad?”
“Not sure, Tris. Because, when we were back in the States at My’s game, you and shitbag seemed tight.”
I roll to my side and prop my head up on my hand.
“What? You did. And he fucked you over, so how the hell do you just …?” He crosses his arms again. “You are getting drunk and flipping out one minute, and in love the next, Tris. Come on.”
“Are we supposed to fight or make up?”
“I can’t do this right now.” He stands up abruptly. “I can’t watch you just—”
“I made my peace with Marc. He fucked up, but I played a role in that, too.”
“Oh, come on, Tris,” he huffs.
“Someday, Patrick, we’ll write songs about it.”
“Yeah, well”—he stands up straighter — “I’m thinking of taking a break for a while. Thought I’d tell you, so you didn’t hear it through the grapevine.”
I sit up again. “I’m sorry if I—”
“The road’s been rough.”
I pull my knees up and hug them. “One accident after another, and you just can’t bear to watch it anymore, right?”
He shrugs then shakes his head.
“I get it. I don’t enjoy being that for anyone. As soon as I’m eighteen—”
“Tris, when you’re eighteen, the same shit will be staring you in the face. Maybe you need help.”
“Maybe you do,” I accuse.
“I’m standing here, telling you I need a break; I’m not hiding it.”
“Probably should have taken one after she—” I snap my mouth shut, realizing what I’m doing.
“Touché, Tris.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to find someone who makes me never want to kiss anyone else again.”
We are both getting agitated, and all I want to do is sleep, get through the concert, and come back to him.
“Forever Steel, Tricks.” I flip him off.
“Yeah, Tris.” He flips me off, too, yet still stands there.
I pat the side of the bed that’s empty. “You look like you could use some sleep. I mean, unless you have a date waiting.”
“Cut the shit.” He toes off his sneakers.
“You first,” I mumble.
“I hate fighting with you.” He sits on the bed and leans against the headboard.
“Then stop.”
“You look like hell again,” Brisa grumbles as she paints the dark circles under my eyes. “I mean, you’re beautiful, of course, but damn, Tris, this whole tour thing is taking so much out of you.”
“Last show,” I say as I look toward Patrick, who looks just as bad as I do.
“You and Patrick okay?”
I shrug. “He hates me.”
“Oh my God, no, he doesn’t.” She taps my nose with a brush. “He’s worried, that’s all.”
“He should be worried about his penis falling off and not about me having found my soul’s mate.”
“It’s soulmate.”
“I’ve made enough cliché statements in the past few days to make me want to hurl. Soul’s mate just sounds better.”
“Then soul’s mate, it is.” She smiles.
RFC, Italy
Matteo
I attempted to talk myself out of doing this over a hundred times since she walked away from me, but it keeps coming back to the feeling, the ache that those talk about when their heart breaks. In a sense, my heart is already broken, so it’s not my heart that feels the pain. It’s my soul. It feels like it’s being ripped from a place inside of me in which depths I never knew existed. If I don’t get it back, what then? Will peace ever truly come? Will I be able to leave a part of it to her when I am no longer here so that, whatever it is I give to her, that she needs to able to rest her worries, would be forever gone, forever no more?
In essence, I would give it to her now and risk eternal unease just to allow her peace and tranquility.
Carlos is not happy with me, and it’s not because he truly wants me to marry Gabrielle, and when he said to me, “I want you to have peace, my old friend,” it was on the crux of my thought of leaving her my soul so that she may garner the same.
I shouldn’t be here, standing amongst a sold-out crowd of thousands of people, knowing it could jeopardize my health, which I only do when necessary. Examples are holidays with my nieces, and when it is necessary for gallery openings.