And then the day we had both dreaded for similar reasons had finally come. September 7… the day Shane and the band kicked off their tour in Portland. He called me once he landed, and to thank me for the gift. I’d had another dog tag added to the one I’d given him for graduation. On it I’d had imprinted a line out of the letter Shane’s mom had left him when she’d died: I’m with you forever in spirit.
Beneath it, I’d had her name added and the day she’d died. The idea had come to me on the flight over to Florence. The message applied to me as well, and I felt it was important to remind him of that.
On that call, I could hear every emotion he’d felt through all the things he didn’t say, and the one thing he did—I love you.
I got it. It was hard to put into words what I’d been feeling as well. We were always great at communicating, especially when our lives were even keeled. These past few weeks I’d discovered that Shane and I had failed in that regard when our relationship was on shaky ground. For the first time we’d truly been tested, and we both hadn’t opened up the way we should have. He’d assumed I knew all that he hadn’t said out loud, and I’d assumed the same of him, while neither of us actually spoke the words.
For obvious reasons, that day had been a difficult one for me. The high I’d been feeling over being in Florence dulled because of the sadness his departure represented. I had to keep reminding myself we were both doing something we wanted to do, and we’d both come out better for it in the end.
Still, the entire situation set me back emotionally for a few days. But today was a good day… my parents and brother were coming to visit.
With Devil’s Lair rehearsals beginning in a few weeks, Mom thought it would be a good time for them all to come see me. She claimed three weeks was long enough to grant my request for space, and they were coming like it or not, leaving me no choice in the matter. I had no issue with it whatsoever. I missed them so much… I even missed my brother, the little shit.
Sitting by my window, I anxiously watched for the car service Dad had hired to pull up. “Any minute now,” I said to Miss Kitty, who sat on my lap. She had finally forgiven me enough to allow contact… plus I’d discovered she loved Italian tuna and bribed her with it often.
The evening we’d arrived, she most definitely wasn’t happy with me and sat by the door, hissing all night. Over the past week, she’d slowly loosened up, becoming more acclimated to our new home, but her attitude would return whenever I left the apartment. The first time I did, one of the throw pillows on my couch had met a tragic death, which forced me to lock her in the carrier to avoid any more decorative murders.
Finally, a sleek black sedan pulled up in front of my building. My brother was the first one out, sweeping his unimpressed gaze around my street. When I saw my dad and then my mom, a lump instantly formed in my throat. “They’re here!”
Miss Kitty hopped off my lap, annoyed at my outburst as I bolted toward my door. It felt like an eternity by the time the elevator doors opened, and when they did, my dad grinned, my brother scowled, and my mom burst into tears.
“Welcome to Florence!” I called out enthusiastically.
“This place sucks ass,” Trestan responded before my parents could. And I couldn’t help but rush down the hall, wrap his body in my arms, and squeeze him to death.
“You could be in school right now,” I reminded him. “You got a vacation out of the deal when all your friends are suffering.”
He pushed out of my grip and scowled. “Yeah… but I have to make up the work plus write a ten-page report about this place.” The little shit shook his head and walked past me, adding, “So thanks for that.”
Although we’d accomplished a lot since my parents and brother had arrived—ate our weight in pasta, toured most of Florence, appeased Trestan with kid-friendly activities, such as a trampoline park, because he was sick of seeing another stupid church—his words, not mine—we blinked and the week was practically over.
It seemed when you wanted time to slow down it stubbornly flew by faster. Their visit went by far too quickly, and today we would end our time together with a drive through Tuscany.
“What’s there to do here?” Trestan asked from the back of the large SUV.
“Admire the scenery,” Mom quipped, exasperated with him. It was rare for me to defend my brother, but this week I thought we all needed to give the kid a break.
“It’s just hills and trees.” His gaze swept over the landscape. “Is there at least a cow or a sheep around? I saw pictures where the sheep walk in the streets like they own them. That would be cool to see.”
“You’ll like the beach we’re going to. It’s mostly made of rocks, not sand,” I said. “And Pisa. It’s where this round building looks like it’s about to fall over. Has been that way for centuries.”
“Seriously?” On my nod he added, “Cool. Maybe it will fall today. That would make a great essay.” As our driver pulled up to the restaurant where we were having lunch, Trestan perked up a bit more. “Can I have my own pizza with any topping I want?”
“Sure,” Dad said, probably to shut him up.
“And a beer?”
“Uh… no,” my mom snapped to shut him up next.
“But everyone does it here,” he whined. “I looked it up. You can drink at fifteen.”
“You’re not fifteen… and you’re getting on my nerves, Trestan,” my father grumbled. Dad’s sense of humor took a hike when it came to alcohol. It wasn’t so much that he worried I would ever abuse the substance, but being that my brother had picked up our dad’s smart-ass gene, I wouldn’t put it past Dad to fear addiction could be something else Trestan picked up.
“Sorry… jeez.”
“Don’t sweat it, dude,” he said, ruffling Trestan’s hair as an apology. “It’s kind of your job.”
Since arriving, Dad had been quiet, and I suspected it had to do with how much he missed me and would again after they left. It also could’ve been that he was out of his comfort zone. We really didn’t need to worry, as not many recognized him. There had been the group of college kids who had and had harassed him into taking a picture with all of them. But for the most part, the looks Dad received were because of his tats and not because of his fame.
When we got out of the car, Mom was forced to scurry after Trestan. I hooked my arm around my father’s, and he smiled down at me. “Italy suits you, baby girl.”
“It does?”
“Yeah. You look happy.”
“Did I not look happy before?” I asked cautiously. I had been proud of myself for hiding my true feelings during their visit.
Strangely enough, except for a text message the day they’d arrived, I hadn’t heard from Shane all week. In it, he said to enjoy our visit, and that he’d be very busy but also didn’t want to intrude on our time.
“Not the past few weeks before you left.” I really wanted to argue that wasn’t true, either, but for the life of me couldn’t. He was right. I hadn’t been happy.
Sensing my pensiveness, he kissed the top of my head. “You had a lot of deep shit on your mind, baby girl. Leaving as you did was the best decision for you.”