“Well, look at me,” she said. “First I drag you to Italy, then I get you to find your long lost family…”
“Yeah, you really had to twist my arm to get me here,” he said. “I mean, look at this place. It’s hideous.” He gestured to the street below and the facades of those houses across from them.
“I know, right?”
“Just imagine, I could be back in Arkansas slinging burgers for above minimum wage. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were thinking about me,” she said. “I know that’s really why you came.”
“You got me.”
“And you’ve got me,” she said, rolling onto him and stretching her body along his, pressing her belly to his. “If you want me.”
“Out here? It’s a little different than when it’s dark…”
“What, are you afraid someone’s going to sneak a peek?”
“Not unless you are.”
“Impress me,” she said, planting a kiss on his lips. “We can work up an appetite, and next you can impress me in the kitchen.”
*
Two days later, as Cynthia sat staring down at the Atlantic Ocean below the plane, the elation she’d managed to keep her afloat began to wane. Soon, she would be home. Soon, she’d have to confront her father’s death. The thought made her stomach heavy and her throat close.
She turned to Nick and lay her head on his shoulder and tried to sleep, but the closer she got to home, the worse she felt. If only she could have stayed in Rome forever, moved in with Nick’s big, loud, nutty family, who had loved Cynthia the moment she walked in with him and invited them back any time, for as long as they wanted to stay. The night before, it had been flattering, but nothing more. Now, she wished she could stop the plane, turn it around, rush back and tell them she was accepting the invitation from now until forever.
“Hey, you want to sneak back to the bathroom and join the mile high club?” she asked Nick, slipping her hand around his bicep.
He pulled back and looked down at her. “Really? Those bathrooms are tiny, and kind of gross.”
“Are you saying no to sex?”
“Well…”
“With your hot, available girlfriend, who wants to fulfill a fantasy with you? Come on, Nick. Don’t be a lame sauce.”
“You can’t be a lame sauce,” he reminded her.
“Obviously you can, because you’re being one.”
“Are you sure you’re not doing this for some other reason?”
She ran her hand down his chest and tucked her fingers under his belt. “Other than I can’t wait another ten hours?”
“Yes, other than that.”
“Like what?” she asked, running her thumbnail back and forth across the skin above his belt and smiling up at him.
“Like…I can’t remember.”
She laughed as she gave him a quick kiss, letting her hair fall against his face. Lowering her voice, she leaned close to his ear until her lips brushed his earlobe. “You go first. I’ll be there in two minutes.”
*
Despite the temporary distraction Nick provided, as soon as the plane touched down in Arkansas, Cynthia could no longer put off the inevitable. Her stomach shook as she exited the plane, as she walked down the terminal, and down the escalator towards the baggage claim area.
There, waiting for her with a tearful smile on her face, was her mother. The moment Cynthia saw her, the tension inside her pulled painfully tight and thrust itself into her throat so hard she nearly choked. Nick took her elbow as she stumbled off the escalator, and then she was running towards her mom, wrapping her arms around her, sobbing.
“Oh, sweetheart,” her mom said, her own voice choked with tears. For a long time, she held Cynthia in her arms, patting her back and smoothing her hair and murmuring words of comfort. At last, Cynthia pulled away and wiped her face. Her eyes felt wrung out, her throat was sore from crying, and her nose was running all over her face. But her mother was there, waiting.
“I’m sorry,” Cynthia said. “I was an awful daughter.”
“No,” her mother said. “You’re a wonderful daughter. It was time for you to break free a little bit. Maybe I kept you too close.”
“No,” Cynthia said, shaking her head and sniffing hard. “No, you didn’t. You were protecting me. I shouldn’t have been so awful to you. I was so afraid you wouldn’t be here.”
“And you would have gotten home just fine,” her mother said, taking her face between her hands. “If you could make it through Rome for six weeks, I’m sure you could make it home from the airport. I know how capable you are, Cynthia.”
“I love you so much.” She hugged her mom hard, before pulling back. “And Rome was amazing. I wish you could have been there.”
“No, that was good for you,” her mom said. “To see that on your own. But I expect to hear every single detail of every single day when we get home.”
“Okay,” Cynthia said, wiping her face one last time before turning to Nick, who stood with their luggage next to the baggage carousel. She motioned for him to join them, and he pulled the bags over.
“Hey, Ms. Arevalo,” he said with a goofy smile on his face.
“Mom, you remember my boyfriend Nick, right?” Cynthia asked with an equally goofy smile.
Her mom covered her mouth with both hands, but her smile showed in her eyes. “Oh, I’m so happy for you, sweetheart,” she said at last, throwing her arms around Cynthia’s neck. When she detached herself, she turned to Nick. “And for you, even more. You do realize how lucky you are? My daughter is a precious jewel.”
“Mom,” Cynthia groaned.
“I’m well aware, Ms. Arevalo,” Nick said, hooking an arm around Cynthia’s waist. “I wouldn’t dream of treating her as anything else.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Cynthia corrected.
Still laughing, they headed out to her mom’s car. The intense July heat crushed down upon them, and her mood abruptly sank again. “Should I drop you off first, Nick?” her mom asked once they were settled into her trusty little Nissan Sentra.
“I want to go see Dad,” Cynthia said.
“Now?” her mom asked. “Are you sure you don’t want to get home and settle in first? Maybe have a shower, a few good meals, a night of real rest, not in an airplane…”
“No,” Cynthia said. “I want to go now. I don’t want to wait anymore. It will just make me feel worse than I already do.”
“You feel bad still?”
Cynthia shrugged. “I mean, yeah. How can I not? I would have felt bad whatever I did. There’s no way to win in a situation like that.”
“If you’re sure…”
“You want me to come, too?” Nick asked from the back seat, where he sat next to the stack of suitcases.
“Of course,” Cynthia said, reaching back for his hand. She didn’t let go until they reached the cemetery in Springdale where her father had been buried. They climbed out of the car and stood there for a minute, just looking at each other. Finally, Cynthia said, “Actually, Nick, would you mind if I asked you to stay here? Just the first time?”
“Of course not,” he said. “I’ll be here. Text if you need me to come.”
“Thanks.” She stood on tiptoes and gave his cheek a quick kiss. “We’ll be back soon.”
“No rush.”
As they made their way along the path through the cemetery, Cynthia reached for her mother’s hand. She was sure that the moment she saw her father’s name on a gravestone, she’d break down into an irreparable wreck. When they reached it, she knelt before the grey, granite stone, waiting for the tears that would surely overtake her at any moment. After a few minutes, she reached out and pushed her fingers against the letters cut into the stone, trying to feel something. But it was all too unreal.
No thunder roared at her from the sky, no lightning struck her down for not rushing home to throw herself upon his lifeless body and scream it back to life. In fact, the day was so cloudless and bright s
he could hardly imagine death existed.
“Am I a monster?” she whispered, turning to her mother. “I’m not even crying.”
“You cried yourself out at the airport,” her mother said, sinking down beside Cynthia and slipping an arm around her.
Cynthia turned back to the stone. “I feel like I should be crying.”
After a few minutes, she caught herself trying to make herself cry, which made her feel like even more of a fraud. Was she really so heartless as to not cry over her own father’s death? Or so fake as to make herself do so when she didn’t feel like crying?
The thing was, she was sad. She was sad, but also hurt, and resentful, and furious.
If he’d been there for her, been a good dad, her whole life would have been different. She might have had enough money to go to Italy without a grant, to come home for his funeral and know she could go back someday and see the world. If he’d been a good dad, maybe she wouldn’t have needed to date all those jerks. Maybe she would have known a good guy when she found one, two years before.
But maybe if she had known, things would have worked out differently. Maybe she wouldn’t have been ready for the kind of relationship she knew that she’d have with Nick now. And he hadn’t been ready then, either. Maybe she wouldn’t have needed a guy best friend if she didn’t have daddy issues, and she wouldn’t have become friends with Nick in the first place. And certainly she would not have had the years of closeness with her mother. Their relationship would have been completely different if she’d had two functional parents.
She had thought that when she came home, everything would fall into place. She’d mourn her father, cry on his grave, and revere his memory. But life was more complicated than that. Instead of forming a neat picture of dutiful, daughterly grief, the puzzle pieces had fallen in a chaotic mess. She’d pushed aside the reality of his death so she could enjoy her trip, and now she had so much to process. Not just his death, but the turmoil of her feelings about his life. But she knew that no matter how long it took or how badly she messed up while she figured it out, she had people there to hold her up, wipe her tears, and to take her mind off it when it all got to be too much.
And if all else failed, she had a standing invitation to Italy…
*
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Acknowledgements
Thank you to all the amazing people who made this book possible. First and foremost, my son, husband, and parents, who gave me time to write. My younger sister, who studied abroad and let me pick her brain for travel details. My older sisters, who taught me to tell stories for days.
A big thanks to my beta readers who push me to be better, especially Tegan, and those in my real-life writers group, who have become my dearest friends.
And going way, way back, thank you to my middle school teachers, Ms. Lea, Ms. Neill, and Ms. Kenney, who gave me this crazy idea that I could write. Y’all are the real rock stars of this world. Everyone deserves teachers like you.
About the Author
Hey, y’all! I’m your author, Lena Mae Hill. I’m a born and raised Southerner with a healthy dose of Italian ancestry. I was bitten by a travel bug early in life and still travel whenever I can, but I always return to my roots in Arkansas. Like Cynthia, I lived in Springdale for a time and attended the University of Arkansas. Though I did not study abroad in Rome, I did visit the city while traveling Europe with my own Nick.
I hope you enjoyed reading Cynthia’s story. If you want to know more about the characters mentioned, make sure to check out the other books in the collection:
When in Rome…Fall in Love (Kristina’s Story)
When in Rome…Find Yourself (Rory’s Story)
When in Rome…Break His Heart (Maggie’s Story)
When In Rome...Lose Control: Cynthia's Story Page 16