𝐍𝐎𝐍-𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒

So can I call you?

ROME, ITALY
3 Weeks later
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When I opened my eyes, I sat up slowly and scanned the room. It was my old bedroom. In my old house. In my old city. It was the four walls where I had spent twenty-one years of my life. I painted those walls. Those were my books in the library. But they couldn't seem familiar to me.

I stood up and opened the window. Rome was shining as it always did. But it couldn't look familiar, it couldn't look safe anymore. I was afraid that the germ of the disease that had pushed my friend to attempt suicide was hiding in every corner of that city.

I closed the window. I walked through the corridor of my own house with a strange feeling in my stomach.

My mum was in the kitchen. She was washing the dishes. She turned and said hello. A big, tired, smile on her face.

I prepared my breakfast mechanically, like I was following a script. Everything felt fake. Take the croissant. Cut it in half. Spread the hazelnut cream. Drink water. Eat. Everything felt backwards. I couldn't believe my friend tried to kill herself. Breathe. I couldn't believe I wasn't there to stop her. Don't cry.

"How is Marti?" my mum asked me.

She was an old, tired and weight down woman, but she still retained the beauty of the youth. She was sweet, selfless. When I glanced at her, her hands in the sink, I thought I never wanted to be like her, and for thinking something like that I felt horrible. I wanted to be that selfless, I wanted to be that lovely. But my life had to be different. In that house, in that city, with a man like the one she married, I couldn't survive like she did.

"She's fine" I just replied.

Was she? When they released Martina from the hospital she didn't talk much. Me and the girls had spent lots of time in her house, watching movies, trying to make her laugh. I figured she appreciated our attempt, but still, she looked like she didn't want us there. There was nothing to laugh about. Her house was cold and silent. Her parents spoke in a low voice, her sisters didn't talk at all. I felt like I was living in a creepy dream. Everything looked fake and uncomfortable. And that feeling followed me in my own house.

I stayed in Rome a little too long than what I thought. I couldn't leave without knowing that Martina was okay. But I couldn't delay my departure more. The band needed me. But I couldn't lie to myself: Martina wasn't okay at all. And when she decided to take too many pills on that damned beach, I was somewhere else kissing a random dude, complaining because the guy I was into wasn't into me as well. I thought it was the end of the world.

"Have you already packed?" my mum asked.

"In a minute"

"You always do everything last minute"

"God, it won't take me long"

I chewed slowly, staring at the bedroom door of my parents room. I could see it from where I was sat in the kitchen. It was closed, but I could hear the radio playing from the inside. I forgot how frustrating was living with my dad. We used to fight on everything. We were ideologically, sentimentally, too far apart. Yesterday night he said Martina had always been weird. I lost my mind. Like mental illness was just some kind of foolish weirdness.

I immediately thought of Matty. I knew he could understand. Despite everything, he was a good human. I thought my dad would feel ashamed of himself if he met Matty.

"I'm sorry I'm leaving you here with him" I told my mum.

She shrugged and gave me an unconvincing smile. "At least I never get bored"