Through Her Eyes

by Ava Harrison

  “Why’s that?”

  “My vision has gone in a new direction. I won’t be needing a model after all.” He lifts his left brow, making his eyes appear larger. They twinkle at me as if I’m supposed to be privy to his new ‘direction,’ which I’m obviously not since he doesn’t elaborate.

  “Um, okay.”

  “I’ll tell you my vision later.”

  “Cryptic much?”

  “You have no idea.” And there it is—his signature smirk followed by the wink I’d started to miss in his absence.

  Going to hell. Get your head in the game and stop fantasizing about his smirk and wink.

  “Earth to Ari.”

  “Can you not call me, Ari, please? Aria is fine. Just not Ari.”

  “Oh, sorry. I just—” He stops himself and shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he thinks for a moment. “So, how about I lose the model and we go see Rome?” The pitch of his voice rises with hope.

  “Sounds perfect,” He stares at me with his eyes gleaming brightly.

  “Okay, give me a second.” Then he turns and walks off.

  I venture over to the bar but I don’t have time to sit down before he returns.

  “Wow, that was fast.”

  “I don’t want to miss a second of my time with you.” Somehow I go from wanting to murder him to wanting to melt into a puddle and swoon. I shake my head and roll my eyes.

  “Flattery will get you everywhere. Next gelato is on me.” I smile, and I’m met with his. His earth-shattering smile.

  Dear lord, if he keeps doing that I might combust right here in the hotel bar. Head in the game, Ari. Ari . . . no one has called me that since the last time Parker did. That’s his nickname for me. I bite my cheek at the memory, and as if Chase can discern that I need a life raft, he throws one at me, in the way of a perfect segue.

  “The next gelato is on you? Well, let’s get me some, woman. But first let’s stop at the Trevi Fountain.” He beats his hand across his chest, making some ridiculous sound, and it’s just what I need.

  “Lead the way.” I giggle.

  “Throw a penny in the fountain and wish to return to Rome,” Chase says, and I look up at him, perplexed.

  “Isn’t that cheating? Shouldn’t it be a secret what I wish?”

  “I guess you can be greedy and throw two in, but whatever,” he chides.

  “It’s cheating. Maybe I don’t want to come back? Ever think of that?” I tease back.

  “Is that true?” He gives me a look like I killed his puppy.

  “No.” My eyes roll.

  I position myself and throw the penny into the beautiful cascading pools that Neptune, God of the Sea, the mermen, and seahorses preside over.

  “Stop!” he orders. “You’re doing it all wrong.”

  “Oh my God, Chase. There’s a right way to throw a coin?”

  “Why, yes. Actually, there is.” My eyes enlarge at this discovery.

  “Wait, really? This I got to hear.”

  “Okay. The belief is if you throw a coin using your right hand over the left shoulder, you will be assured a return trip to the Eternal City of Rome. That’s the way it’s done.”

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I’ll throw it however I want.” I stick my tongue out at him. I’m acting like I’m five years old, but it’s okay because this banter makes me feel young and carefree, and I like it.

  “Why do you have to be such a pain in the ass, Princess?” he says as I toss the penny in. My aim is so bad it actually bounces off the lip of the fountain wall, which then causes it to fly back at us, landing at my foot.

  “Guess the fountain decided for you. You’re not welcome back in Rome.” He laughs. Ass.

  “That’s bullshit. Where to next?” I say in a huff.

  “Well, you still owe me some gelato.”

  “Good plan. I could go for something sweet.”

  “There is a great little place by the Fontana della Barcaccia.”

  “Fine, lead the way.” He shakes his head, takes my hand, and pulls me in the correct direction.

  Five minutes later, Chase pulls me into a small boutique. It’s a mish mash of gifts for children and adults. The perfect souvenir shop. I move about the store and peer over at Chase who’s trying on straw fedoras. I can see him taking in his appearance in the mirror. His lip twitches, and a dimple forms.

  “Looking good, Chase.” My voice cracks trying to hold back the laughter that wants to erupt.

  “Right? Totally my look.” It really is his look, but making fun of him is so much more fun.

  “Yeah, I think it would look perfect on you paired with that sarong over there?” I point to the hangers that hold an array of colored and beaded dresses. I’m unsuccessful at holding back my amusement, and my lips turn up.

  “Oh, shut it, Princess. I know I look good.” He waves me off and reaches for another hat. This one has a neon pink ribbon, and I burst into a fit of hysterics as he begins to model his new look. He continues to rummage through the bin and then his eyes widen and I wonder what has him so perplexed. When he pulls out a pair of lace bunny ears, I understand completely.

  “Why would anyone buy these? They’re ridiculous,” he says as he places them down and walks over to the other side of the store. I know that they’re the perfect purchase. Chase is going to die when he sees it. I bite back a smile and walk over to the counter to buy them before he notices. This is going to be fun.

  A little while later after hitting up a few more gift shops, we finally make it to the gelato stand. We have a perfect view of the Fontana and the Spanish Steps. My eye catches on the shape of the Fontana. It resembles a sinking ship, and it fascinates me. I remember an old legend Parker once told me when we discussed traveling to Rome. It stated that the ship was carried all the way to this exact spot during a massive flood. As I recall this old folktale, I can’t help but think of the parallels with my own life. I too have been swept to Rome during a storm.

  “Since I doubt you ever had gelato as a kid, what was your favorite ice cream?” As I try to recall what my favorite flavor was, a memory stops me dead in my tracks.

  Owen and I were at the beach, the water stretched out for miles. We had spent countless days there that summer, Owen, Park and myself. Today was different, though. Parker was out with his family, and it was just the two of us. We were bored and had ridden our bikes there to pass the time. There was something frightening and ominous about the ocean on that particular day. There was nothing on the horizon, just blank, empty space. Endless ripples of uninhabited water. I should have known. But at twelve, I thought I was a good swimmer. I thought I was invincible.

  There was no lifeguard patrolling that part of the beach. It was privately owned and was practically empty. A family playing Frisbee was our only company for a mile up the beach. There was not even a warning flag to enter at your own risk. Owen said we shouldn’t go swimming. He thought the undertow seemed strong. I sat restlessly, the water beckon to me. It spoke to me, and I answered.

  Within a few minutes, I realized I’d made a huge mistake. I started to choke on the water first. My arms fatigued quickly as I pushed against the tide. I remember screaming Owen’s name. I remember the frantic feeling of becoming weightless. I remember the world becoming darker. I remember staring up to the sky one last time and seeing the clouds above me as my vision started to become speckled. Later, I was told I had passed out.

  I found out Owen jumped in after me, and much later, I found out what pain really was. I found out what it meant to lose a part of yourself. When another swimmer jumped in to help, Owen passed me off to him. I learned that as the stranger was saving me, no one was left to save Owen.

  I learned what hate was . . . because I hated myself.

  The worst day of my life. The day we buried Owen.

  I watched as my older brother was placed into a wooden box for all of eternity. My heart was hollow. One minute, I was admiring the beauty of the ocean, the n
ext it was stealing something so precious from me. No words could ever describe the anguish I felt. It was my fault. He was in the water because of me. I hadn’t spoken since he drowned five days ago. Not one word. What was the point? What could I say? Nothing would bring him back. Nothing would wake me from this nightmare.

  “Ari? Can you hear me, Ari?” Parker lifted the blanket from my head.

  “I think you need to come out. Can you do that for me?” As the blanket was pulled fully off of me, our eyes met. His were red-rimmed and swollen. His teeth gently bit at his lip.

  “Come here,” he said as he lifted me by my arms and pulled me into his embrace. In his arms, I finally let go. My body was wracked by sobs.

  Owen was dead.

  Owen was dead.

  The words replayed. I’m lost. I can’t find my way.

  It was my fault. It was entirely my fault.

  If I hadn’t gone swimming. If I was a better swimmer. If I’d only listened.

  I felt him wrap me tighter in his arms.

  They held me.

  They comforted me.

  They guided me.

  He was my gravity. He brought me back to him. His arms brought me home. He tethered my soul to his and grounded me. As I lay in Parker’s arms, he brought me back to myself. He held me until all the tears in my body dried up. I rubbed the tears from my eyes, and breathed a choked sigh. “You’re okay, Ari. You’ll be okay. What can I do to make you happy, to make you smile?” And then he repeated what he’d said the first day I met him. “I could get you ice cream?” Our eyes met, and I finally spoke.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? You want ice cream? I’ll get you some. What’s your favorite?”

  “Cookies and cream.” Moments later I was happily eating ice cream in bed.

  I shook myself from the memory. I file away my sadness and finally answer. “I always loved cookies and cream. I’m not much of an ice cream eater anymore. But now . . . with this gelato—” My tongue darts forward and licks the smooth hazelnut gelato that threatens to spill down the cone. Chase lets out a ragged breath. His pupils begin to dilate as he watches me with . . . desire. His reaction makes me feel something other than sadness. His reaction makes me feel something I haven’t felt in days—playful. I’ll take that over sad any day, and I decide to go with it.

  “What are you doing, Aria?” His voice is raspy.

  “Who, me?” I smirk, and he smiles at the look I’m giving him.

  “You know what they say about playing with fire?”

  “I just like to lick it.” As the suggestive words leave my lips, I can’t suppress the giggle that teeters on the brink of erupting.

  “I’ve got something you can lick.” My eyes grow as wide as feasibly possible, and I swat at him, but he dodges me and dashes toward the Spanish Steps behind the Fontana. Dropping my remaining gelato in the nearest garbage, I take off after him, weaving in and out of the crowd that’s formed around the fountain. I can see its cascading water as I make my climb.

  My lungs burn as I try to catch up to him. God, how many steps are there? The crowd muffles the sound of my feet hitting the pavement. As I reach the top of the Spanish Steps, my body lurches forward in a series of desperate exhales. My shallow breaths come out in gasps while my heart beats erratically. The gelato I had before this silly climb to the top was not a great idea as my stomach wants to revolt against the sugary thick cream. With effort, I might make it to my destination before my feet give way under my own weight. And I thought I was in good shape. What a joke! Better start back up with the yoga.

  Then I eye the scenery before us. My eyes skate across the distance, and I see everything. The view from the top of the steps is awe-inspiring.

  “Beautiful, right?”

  “It’s magnificent!” I marvel at the beauty.

  “Yeah, it is.” But he isn’t looking at the view or the distance. He is looking at me.

  We stare at each other, panting heavily, our gazes locked. Then Chase coughs once and breaks the connection.

  “So, Aria, what’s the plan from here? Where you going? What’s your destination?” I bite my bottom lip as my eyes wander across the distant scenery, looking out into the great unknown.

  “I’ve no idea. I’m searching for something, I’m just not sure where to find that something yet.”

  “I’m a pretty good detective. Do you have any clues to give me?”

  “I have this silly idea that I need to go somewhere, and maybe once I’m there I’ll find myself.”

  “I’ll get you there. Wherever there might be.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Will you trust me? I know everything.” He winks.

  Reaching into my souvenir bag, I don the children’s bunny ear headband I bought at the souvenir store. When I bought it, I really had no intention of ever wearing it. I thought it would be funny to watch Chase stare at me like I was insane. But seeing him saunter through the streets of Rome with such self-assurance, I can’t help but make an ass of myself.

  “What the hell are you doing?” His eyes flicker with amusement, and he bursts into laughter. Seeing him so entertained makes me bring my hand up to my mouth to stifle my own laughter, but I fail miserably and burst out in my own fit of giggles.

  “What?” I mock playfully. Chase shakes his head as his thunderous laugh rings through the air.

  We continue to stroll through Rome, Chase with his head held high, me wearing my bunny ears. We really are quite the pair. I believe my companion secretly loves it. I can see the pride in his eyes as I openly embarrass myself. It’s as if he knows this is out of character for me, and he loves it. As we make our way further into the city, I notice how vibrant and full of life it is. The picturesque streets are a living, breathing work of art. We lose ourselves among the interweaving lanes of the historic center. As we make our way along a cobblestone path to enter the piazza, I take in Chase. His gait is graceful, his swagger confident. He carries himself with a calmness I envy. His hair is ruffled, and his face looks like he hasn’t had time to shave for days. He turns his head to look over his shoulder and waves his hand to hurry me up.

  As we navigate our way, I fall in love with Italy all over again. Rome is a complete contrast of Tuscany. No rolling hills spanning in the distance, just cobblestone and history—hundreds and hundreds of years of history. Each building is remarkable. When we finally make it to our next destination, I’m speechless. The Colosseum. To think so many died here. So many gladiators lost their lives during the time of the Roman Empire, and in such a barbaric way. So many lives were changed because of this structure. It’s dark and ominous, and evokes a feeling of dread, a foregone conclusion to all those who enter. Death is all around, its murky imprint left for ages as a reminder of the past.

  We make our way inside, and I walk further into the pit. Looking down, I study the dirt and imagine the death. Had they known that this was the end for them? Does anyone really know when the end is near? My eyes well up at the thought. Chase’s voice is soft as he lulls me out of my dark thoughts.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours, Princess?”

  “Do you ever wonder why? What’s the reason for all this . . .?” I move my arms about. “What’s the reason for all this death?”

  “Sometimes there’s no reason. You just have to have faith that everything will right itself in due time.”

  “How can you say that? So much evil happens. So many bad things that shouldn’t.”

  “The water will rise, the tides will come, but eventually it will recede. Life is a cycle. Things happen for a reason.”

  “How do you live like that? My mind won’t let me.”

  “Just keep telling yourself there is a truth intended for you. Don’t let life become routine. That’s not the life intended for you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Didn’t I already tell you? I know everything.”

  I bend at my knees to scoop some dirt into my hand. It sifts throu
gh my fingers like the sands of time, reminding me of history. The history here and my history back home. I stare as time slowly passes through my fingers.

  Snap

  Snap

  I place my hand back on the ground to give me leverage to stand back up when Chase speaks.

  “Hey, don’t move, okay?”

  I suddenly have an immense desire to do just the opposite of what he says. So, what do I do? I pose . . . bunny ears and all.

  I turn and glower at him as he snaps another series of pictures. My lips pout and my chin is lowered.

  “You should be a model.” And with that I roll my eyes, and my lips part as a small smile forms.

  “Oh, God,” I groan. “Do these lines ever work?”

  Lifting the camera again, he snaps a few more shots. “Yeah, they kind of do, actually.” He smirks.

  That smirk right there?

  Yup . . . hook, line, and sinker. His lines work. So what do I do? I throw the bunny ear headband at him. Real mature, Aria. My reaction seems to amuse him tremendously, but then his eyes narrow and grow more serious.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I was just wondering, would you like to spend the day with me tomorrow?

  I bow my head and think for a moment. Today has been a good day, a really good day. What harm would it be to spend one more day with him? “Okay. I would love to.” His lips part into a big grin at my response.

  “Great. Let’s head back to the hotel. I have a few shots I need to hit up tonight. We can meet first thing in the morning. Say, eight?”

  “Sure. That works. Any idea what you want to do?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “I hate surprises,” I scowl.

  “You’ll like this one. Promise.”

  Thirty-two days since I spoke to Parker

  “NO WAY! YOU MUST be insane if you think I’m waiting in this line. Holy hell, Chase, it wraps around for like a mile.” My eyes widen as I peer over Chase’s shoulder to see just how far it goes.

  “No fear. You really think I would make you do that?” When I didn’t answer right away, he busts out laughing. “Yeah, I just might. Come on. I booked us a tour.”