Out Loud

Chapter seven

Elle

"Thank you Elle for stopping by. You are very nice. We will let you know as soon as possible"

Another day, another day, another big ass no. "Will let you know" is the cute way to say "Hey, it's not you, it's me" in the roommate romance. At this point, I should just give in and stay here with Charlotte and Becca... and with our apparently new roommate Country Club. I would be lying if I say that lately his presence and closeness have bothered me. But now is not the right time, the right guy, since he's - let's just say - seeing my roommate and like everything else, he is temporary.

The rumblings coming from my stomach make me realize it's already one in the afternoon and I'm freaking starving.

I glance over at my phone again, clicking on the time app to see what time is in Italy so I can call my parents on the way home.

8 p.m. Perfect.

Putting the earphones in my ears, as soon as it is connected via bluetooth to the phone (damn technology, I'm still and forever will a fan of the old but gold Nokia cellulars), I click on the entry "home" and then long beeps in my ears indicate me that the line on the other side is free.

"Ciao Nani!" I can exactly hear the moment her lips break apart into the brightest smile, and I'm pretty sure it's like that, because mine mirror hers. "Come stai?" She asks.

"Ciao Mamma, sto bene e —"

"Aspetta che chiamo anche tuo padre" I can't finish my sentence because she interrupts me instantly.

"Francescoooooo... muoviti. Tua figlia è al telefono" she screams at my father, but this scream goes directly in my ears, but make it 10 times higher.

"È l'americana" My mum explain, he must have thought that was my sister calling at this time of the night. I usually call as soon as I wake up. And, most importantly, they don't want me to call at evening or night because that means something has happened, and usually it's bad. Like everything bad in the world happens at night. So if it's not an emergency, just a quick text message.

"Oh, è successo qualcosa?" He asks, his brows raise slightly. Told you.

"No niente. Sto tornando a casa in bici dopo l'ennesima porta in faccia e in questi 15 minuti volevo sentirvi"

I miss them, I miss home. It's true, I chose to come here and the long distance relationship was part of the deal, but it's different when you think about that when you are home, next to your family reading the letter of acceptance while they hug you, they kiss you and cry, all whilst calling every single relative in our family tree starting from the roots until arriving to the one of our neighbors. Because this is what exactly happened.

I still remember the look on their face like me, and my sister of course, are the smartest people in the world. My father always says "I may have attended until eighth grade, but there is not one thing I would not do, a path I would not build, so I can make you realize what you and your sister dream of".

I miss them, some days more than others, and when I feel a little down I just want my dad holding my hand. I just feel so goddamn alone, without his hand holding mine, keeping me calm.