ache

Chapter Two

It was yet another morning where the sun shone on my desk through the window of my room. Papers left scattered underneath books I've read a few dozen times. They were chapters of the evening into early morning, where I couldn't place my mind in one place. Did yesterday mean anything? The field brought up so many questions, answered a few things, but mostly made my brain and heart race like no other. I was going 90 on a 20mph street. I haven't even gotten out of bed and I'm exhausted. (What has he done to me?)

I throw on a shirt, and head to the bathroom the rooms shared. I peaked around the corner of the doorway into his room. He wasn't there. (Maybe he's already with Dad.) Closing the door, I lightly skip downstairs. Mafalda was busy picking fruit from our backyard trees, Anchise down at the river I suppose. The atmosphere was quaint and calm. Nonchalantly looking around to find him, I went back inside to Dad's office. There were so many piles of paper stacked one, two feet tall. Glasses once filled with drink sit nicely on the only spot of empty area. Still no one. I stood there for a few minutes taking it all in. Like a detective sleuthing out clues. I sat on the slight indent of the small couch. This is where he must have sat. Perfect range of where my father, professor as he called him, and the projector screen. They spent hours looking through slides of photos of statues, filing them in categories to pull from later. It seemed like they both enjoyed each other's company. Considering his time here would only be 10 weeks, it would've either been hell, where they'd walk in silence throughout the house, or their "classes" would be head nods and no conversation. Or tolerable where he's just another polite American who surprisingly spoke the language and ate a few meals with us, just like everyone else who stayed here for the summer did. But Oliver was Oliver. If you categorized Oliver, you would place him in purgatory, a space in between heaven and hell. He was so kind with his words. Very studious in his walk and read. Even the way he lied beside the pool, clad in swim shorts and Star of David necklace, revising his work from earlier in the day, was that of a diligent mind. He thought earnestly about everything. (I wonder what he thought about me?)

I could hear footsteps coming from down the hall. I could hear the papers in their hand, as well as the flicker of a lighter flaming a cigarette. (Oh how I loved when he smoked. He looked so cool. I thought he didn't smoke...new habit?) I pretend to look busy, still sitting in his spot. I didn't want them to think I was waiting for him. Even though I was, impatiently.

"Elio! What are you doing in here boy? Eager to see what secrets we've been uncovering?"

"Oh uh, I uh," I shuffled the papers I threw in my hands, looking for an excuse. "I was just uh...reading." (Reading? Nice. Idiot.)

Oliver and Father smiled at me. Oliver neatly placed his work on the cushion beside me. A wordless way of saying hello and I see you. Father simply smiled at the small interaction. I made eye contact with him as the papers settled. His eyes looked fatigued from reading. His lips pressed together in a tight smirk. A smile so small, but a smile all the same. My nose flared as my head bowed, so I was looking at my lap. I could feel my cheeks warm pink. I exhaled to try and compose myself and flush my face from the color. Popping my head back up, Oliver was still in front of me. Only him and I in the room now. I greeted again with a flat smirk instead of speaking. He held his hand out to help me get up. Of course, I followed and stood. He was still holding my forearm. I did too. I didn't want to let go first. I held on so tight that he'd have to rip me off of his arm to break free. A few sighs escaped him and he let go, us standing in the same way. He walked back and out to the door. I waited a moment to follow. Didn't want to seem too needy. Though I would've done anything to get his attention. Turning the corner out to the backyard, I saw him relaxing in the sun in the small lawn chair. I took the inside of my bottom lip and pulled the skin with my teeth. My eyes wide for him, I thought I should just go over there. I should just go over there and ask if he'd want to bike into town for a drink or something. Maybe I'd offer to light his cigarette after buying a back from the shop. Yeah. I'd do that.

I walked over to him. His eyes were closed, skin golden gleaming from sweat. His necklace looked like a little shimmer on his collarbone. I stood silently just observing him. My hands behind my back, clenched together, I coughed. His eyes opened into little slits and shaded himself with his hand. I was a deer in headlights.

"Hey." He cut the silence. My hands now swinging, I was down at my feet in the grass. Clearing my throat, I spoke.

"Hey. H-h-how are you?"

His head nodded, "Fine."

Making eye contact with my toes in the grass, "Would you uhm, would you want to maybe uh...maybe go to town" I stopped before I could ask if he wanted to go with me.

"Today?"

I nodded my head heavily up and down. Still no eye contact.

"Right now?"

Nodded again, "I-If you weren't busy..."

He sat right up, his arms hanging between his equally as glimmering legs. He looked straight ahead to the scene of trees. "Mind helping me up?" I quickly shot my hand towards his, pulling back. He unwrinkled his shorts, and buttoned the middle buttons of his open shirt. Shoes already on, he looked at me. I ran to the step of the corridor into the house. I had a pair of shoes there. Messily slipping them on, I went back to him.

"Ready eager beaver?" He joked, as he adjusted his glasses and walked towards where the bikes were kept. Swinging my leg over, I was still watching him. Also swinging his leg over the bike, he started the wheels' momentum with his foot in the pedal. I lagged behind. He turned his head to see if I was following. I almost got caught watching his legs push down on the pedals, and the sway of his shirt in the little gust of air as he went forward down the gravel. I pretended to adjust the seat. Moving his head to the front, he just kept going. (Calm down Elio. He's just a guy. Calm down.)

Taking the slight left with the curve of the road, we made it to town; Crema. The old buildings sat modestly on cobbled streets. There was a bell tower that rang every hour with a gentle humming ohm. The small town sang with the people walking from place to place. The activity was minimal this time of day. Only people who didn't work or were tourists. We stopped at a table for a break.