The euphoria shattered with a loud bang from below. “Time to stop making out, Micah,” a masculine voice called out in a fake, high-pitched, singsong voice.
The spell broken, they stepped apart.
Through the hole in the floor, a boy emerged. His spiky, brown hair came first, followed by a lean frame.
“Trent!” Micah slugged his cousin in the shoulder, who stood inches below him.
Eden met Trent once before, when they were kids. All she remembered was a boy two years older than she was, who teased her mercilessly. He looked the same, except bigger, built like a wrestler.
Trent punched Micah back in the arm and then stared at her.
Her mind was still spinning from Micah’s hug. Great, I probably look like a deer caught in headlights.
“Oh, you were really getting it on. Didn’t know you were with your girlfriend. I can come back later.” He chuckled and walked closer to her. “Hello, gorgeous.”
His statement dripped of sarcasm, and she braced herself for the mockery.
“Hi Trent.”
“Look at you, you’re really growing up. Holy big bird, you’re tall.” He gaped at her.
“Jealous, Trent?” Micah asked when she remained speechless.
“Jealous? Who me? I’m the perfect specimen. Tell me, pretty boy, when was the last time you got lucky, huh? Me, on the other hand, I have to beat the girls off with a stick.” He paused and emphasized again, “With a stick.”
“The girls in Italy have no idea Romeo’s on his way,” Micah countered.
“You better believe it, short stack. Now let’s stop playing house, or whatever you two were doing up here, and go eat. Airplane food totally sucks.” Trent disappeared through the hole in the floor.
Micah glanced over at her and shrugged his shoulders. “I know I saw him there but...” Then he was sliding down the fire pole, hollering, “Come on, Eden, slide down!”
Micah’s mom cleared the plates, saying to Trent, “I’m so glad you’re doing this together. It’s going to be such a neat experience for both of you.”
“We’re going to have an experience, that’s for sure,” Trent responded, straight faced.
Yes, we will, Micah mused, but probably not the type you’re thinking, Mom, or what you’re hoping for, Trent.
Dinner was over and they all moved to the living room. Micah couldn’t help but notice how quiet Eden had become since Trent showed up. She watched Trent like a nervous cat.
It was getting late and he knew he should take her home, but he didn’t want to. Being around her settled him. He’d been dead serious when he’d told her he wished she were coming with him. She doesn’t understand what it’s like when she’s not here.
Still, he knew he had to get up early. Eden seemed to jump at the chance to go when he asked her if she was ready.
“Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Hawkins,” she said as they left the room.
“Sure, hon. Anytime,” Micah’s mom called back.
Trent followed behind them. “Hey Micah, your dad said there’s a photo album somewhere in here?”
Micah turned toward the formal entry room and pointed. “Yeah, on the bookshelf behind the piano. Be back in a minute, taking Eden home.”
Trent grinned, giving him a wink. “S-u-r-e.”
Micah ignored him. It wasn’t like that with her.
Eden, who was quiet next to him, stopped walking. Micah glanced over, wondering why. He was shocked to see her step over to Trent and throw her arms around him.
Trent snorted and then slowly patted her back. “Whoa Tiger, I know you’re going to miss me. I’ll miss you too.”
Micah gaped at her as she flew back, her face beet red as she bee-lined for the front door. Her actions had caught everyone off guard, but it seemed her most of all. It amused him but, if he was honest, there was small part of him bothered by it too.
Once they were both in his truck, he glanced over. She was still flushed.
“Ok, got to ask, what’s with hugging Trent? I didn’t think you really liked him all that much.”
“I don’t know why I did that,” she mumbled, not looking up from her fingers in her lap.
“Well, you made Trent’s day.”
“I doubt that.”
“No really, a cute girl like you hugging him, his head was already too big to begin with. You just made him unbearable to be around.”
“If anything, I deflated his self-image.”
He tried to disagree with her, but she gazed out her passenger window. It was quiet for a few minutes, nothing but the roar of the truck’s engine.
“You’ll have to write me sometime, k?” Her voice quavered, “Maybe email me.”
“I will, I promise.”
“I bet calls are super expensive. Probably should just do that with your parents and,” she hesitated, “Megan.”
Now it was his turn to snort. “I won’t be calling Megan.”
She peeked over.
He grinned and said, “She dumped me.”
“Oh.” Her brow tucked together, “You sound happy about it.”
“I am actually, she was a…” He stopped short and finished with, “Well, let’s just say, it’s a good thing.”
He was surprised to hear her giggle. He waited for her to look his way.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh,” she said, licking her lips.
“No, you should. She was a mess. She was definitely nothing like you.” The words filled him with an unfamiliar longing. It was silent again between them.
Eden weaved her fingers together in her lap and stared at her thumbs. They were almost there now. He was tempted to turn down a random road, make the ride last longer, but he didn’t. He pulled into the small parking lot and slotted his truck in front of the McCarthy’s town home. His chest felt heavy.
He let his truck idle in park; the heater was warm, and the night was cold. He wasn’t anxious to leave the cab just yet to walk her up. He needed something and wasn’t entirely sure what it was.
Eden’s hand rested on the door handle and then returned to her lap. Their eyes met, hers were watering. The tip of her nose was slightly pink.
“I hate saying good-bye,” he admitted. “Feels like we just got back together and the funny thing is,” he hesitated, “it sucks just as bad now as when you first moved away.”
She nodded, her eyes turning into reservoirs. Her bottom lip trembled.
“Come here,” he whispered, surprised by how hard it was to breathe at the moment.
She scooted over and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. He felt her body shake and heard her sniffle. He just held her tighter.
“No matter what happens from here on out, you’ll always be my best friend,” he reassured. She nestled her face into his chest, inhaling deeply. He buried his lips into her hair, kissing the top of her head. “Just promise me you’ll be safe while I’m gone.”
Micah stifled a yawn as he listened to Trent converse in Italian with their host family, Gustavo and Caterina Gennaro. Sitting in the back seat of the Fiat Sedici, the European equivalent to the American SUV, he gazed out his window. Driving on the left side of the road added to the novelty as they passed miles of fields, rolling green pastures, old barns, and wooden fences. Exhausted from the long flight over, Micah was relieved when buildings began emerging. They were coming into the city now. Trent informed him many of these buildings dated back to the Renaissance. Crowds of people were passing between cafés, open-air piazzas, shops, and ancient ruins. From studying maps, Micah knew their host family lived northwest of St. Stephen’s High School, and a few miles from the Vatican.
I can’t believe I’m here, he thought, stretching.
Glancing up, he met Gustavo’s mud-brown eyes in the rearview mirror. Micah guessed the Gennaros were both in their seventies. He liked how they resembled one another; Gustavo was stockier, but they shared the same long nose, olive skin, and gray hair.
Caterina was speaking. “Domani essend
o domenica, andiamo a visitare la piazza di San Pietro e la Basilica. Tutte e due sono davvero belle.”
He glanced at Trent. Since Micah’s dad spent a few summers in Italy growing up, he grew up hearing sporadic Italian in his home. Even with taking Italian his freshman and sophomore years, Micah hadn’t picked up on the language at all.
Trent rolled his eyes at him. “They want to take us sightseeing tomorrow, see St. Peter’s Square, the Basilica.” Trent gave him an appraising look. “You’re going to choke at school, aren’t you?”
“Probably.”
Gustavo cleared his throat. “And what do you think of our city, Micah?”
“It’s amazing. So you speak English?”
“Of course,” Caterina said. “We wanted to hear your Italian. The program wants us to speak to you in our native tongue, but we have found many students come understanding very little of what we are saying. I am very impressed with you, Trent.”
“Well, since Italian’s the language of love, I studied hard,” Trent said with all seriousness. Both Gustavo and Caterina chuckled.
“If you are looking for love, Trent, you have come to the right place. This is the city of romance.” Caterina gestured out the window as they passed another outdoor café.
Doubt I’m here for love, Micah thought.
“We are getting close now,” Gustavo said as they turned down a small road.
“Have you been a host family before?” Micah asked.
“Oh yes,” Caterina answered. “We have been doing this for what, thirty years now, is it?”
“Yes, thirty years I believe,” Gustavo confirmed.
“Long time,” Trent murmured.
Caterina and Gustavo exchanged a glance.
“Yes, it is,” Caterina answered. Micah caught Gustavo’s eyes peering at him again.
“That is the Piazza Mazzini,” Caterina said, pointing out her window. They were passing an open courtyard with a large fountain spraying water in several different directions. “We live in the Prati district and here’s our apartment building.”
The 19th century building had been restored, Caterina informed them, as they parked in the parking garage. They gathered their suitcases and followed the couple into the main lobby. Marble floors, pale yellow walls with white trim and baseboards, and electric candles gave the building an antique feel. They entered a black cage and rode up the elevator.
On the third floor, they stopped. Gustavo fished his keys out of his pocket. “Here we are.”
The tour didn’t last long and Micah was grateful to be directed to his room. It shared a Jack and Jill bathroom with Trent’s. He collapsed on the queen-sized bed, not bothering to kick off his shoes. He stared at the bright blue paint on the wall, the white trim standing out. Turning onto his side, he scanned the room: a wooden desk, empty bookshelf, and an over-stuffed chaise with bright yellow pillows thrown on it. No woman in red.
“Are you hungry?” Caterina asked, poking her head in the open door.
“Yeah,” Micah said, feeling his stomach complain.
Since it was their first meal together, Caterina wanted to eat in the dining room. Micah had a feeling most other meals would be eaten in the kitchen breakfast nook.
“Che buono,” Trent said, stuffing a spoonful of manicotti into his mouth.
“Grazie,” Caterina replied.
Micah assumed Trent had told her the food was good and she had said thank you. Starting school on Monday did not appeal to him anymore.
He glanced up halfway through the meal to see Caterina studying him with a thoughtful expression. He thought maybe he was imagining it until he caught her twice more gazing at him, with a look of concentration. Gustavo kept shooting Caterina questioning glances, at which Caterina shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head slightly. Trent was oblivious and left the room for more food.
“Micah,” Caterina said slowly, “you are very familiar to me. Has any of your family been to Rome before?”
So that’s it, he decided, relieved to know the reason behind all the staring. “My dad’s come to Rome before. I look a lot like him, maybe you met him somehow,” he offered.
“No,” she paused, “I do not think so. I doubt I would have remembered his face for that long. Maybe you look like one of our students from before. That must be it,” she said, answering her own question.
“Yeah, maybe,” he agreed. Trent returned and the conversation shifted into Italian, leaving him lost.
Returning to their rooms later, Micah said to Trent, “You’ve got the Italian thing down.”
“Heck, yeah. Oh Micah, you have so much to learn about the opposite sex,” Trent said with mock exasperation. “What do you think these fine young Italian girls will find irresistible? I know you think it’s my body, and I know it’s fine, or maybe you think it’s my hair, which I admit is appealing, too, but no, when they see this fine-looking American stud come to school and speak their language, they will be on me like white on rice.” Trent flicked his wrist, making his fingers snap together.
“I should’ve known it had to do with girls.”
“Everything has to do with girls, Micah! When are you going to realize that? Girls are what make my world go round. Why else would I get out of bed? My parents think I’m here for the language and the experience. Well, I am—the experience of making out with hot Italian chicks. And you should be, too,” Trent said, poking his finger in Micah’s direction, accentuating his words like a parent reprimanding a child.
Micah snorted back at him.
Hoping the woman in red would appear to him, Micah was sorely disappointed that night. Although he enjoyed seeing St. Peter’s Square and the Basilica the next day, he was partially listening to Caterina saying the church was over five-hundred years old, with many famous artists contributing to its beauty. She pointed out Fontana’s fountains in the square, Bernini’s colonnade, and Michelangelo’s Pieta. Gazing up at the sculpture of Mary and her slain son, Micah couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing something.
Staring at the gigantic baldachin, a bronze canopy that stood high above them, resting on four ornate pillars, Micah’s eyes were drawn to the four angels resting on the corners. Is the woman in red an angel like these? he wondered. He was again disappointed when she did not appear that night.
I can’t believe over a week has passed and she hasn’t come once, Micah fumed. The school week hadn’t gone bad exactly, Trent had already made friends for the both of them, but Micah wasn’t feeling very social. With St. Stephen’s being a boarding school with many of the students living on campus, they rode the city bus in, since the metro didn’t have a stop near the school. The campus was old and beautiful, with a large courtyard in the middle and classrooms forming a square around it.
Trent had already met a pretty brunette named Gianna, and like a good cousin, had tried to set Micah up with her friend, Viola. It wasn’t that Viola was unattractive. She was actually quite beautiful with light brown hair and blue-green eyes. It was just Micah was too distracted by his vision-less night.
Funny, I would’ve killed to stop seeing things back home but now…
Trent was whistling as he waltzed into the bathroom, and then seeing Micah sitting on the chaise, stepped into the room.
“I couldn’t help but notice your new shade of lipstick. Nice,” Micah remarked, knowing exactly what Trent had been doing at the school dance he’d dragged Micah to earlier that night.
“Hey, at least I got a new shade. Don’t hate me because you were too lame to get some yourself. Viola was practically begging for a little smooch goodnight. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I just like to take my time.” Yeah, like longer than five days.
“Naw, I think you’re still moping over Megan,” Trent said, walking back into their shared bathroom, retrieving his toothbrush.
“No way, dude.”
Trent turned, “Ok, then Eden. I know she’s got the hots for you.”
Micah didn’t answer, but st
ood up instead. For some reason hearing Eden’s name made him feel homesick.
Entering the bathroom, he picked up his toothbrush. “You’re off your rocker; we’re just friends.”
Trent snorted. “I think she’s hot. I love her glasses and braces. Ow!” he howled, rubbing his arm where Micah punched him. “Dude! I’m just teasing. She really is hot though.”
Seeing Micah’s face, Trent shrugged. “Ok, ok, mister touchy. I didn’t know you were such a girl.”
Micah turned his electric toothbrush on, drowning out his cousin. Secretly, he wondered why he got upset. Because I care about her and Trent’s making fun, that’s why.
It was late and he was exhausted. Lying on his back, hands tucked behind his head, he closed his eyes. The image of Eden tearing up when they parted flashed through his mind. He was surprised it made his chest constrict again. The wave of heat touched him before the light penetrated the back of his eyelids. He bolted up.
She’s here; she’s finally here.
Micah knew the woman in red was close and that should bring him some comfort, but he didn’t feel it. All of his senses were overloaded by the devastation before him. The smell of charred houses mingled with burnt flesh, all of his surroundings devoid of life and color, nothing but black ash left behind. The air was stagnant, no breeze to cool the heat from the midday sun or remove the stench. His footsteps sounded hollow crunching through the rubble. He felt desperate to find someone, anyone. He had to know something had survived, but there was nothing, not even rats to gnaw through the debris. He’d lost count of how many neighborhoods he’d sprinted through, now his pace was slow and labored. His foot caught on something, and he threw his arms out to steady himself. The idea of falling into the wreckage filled him with horror. He turned, spying what snagged him. Crouching down, he slowly lifted it up. Sadness flooded him. Brushing away the ash, he peered down at the small baby doll’s face. This had been a child’s toy, probably a little girl. A girl that’s gone. Buried in this...
Like being pulled from the bottom of a pool, the woman placed her hand on Micah’s shoulder, and the scene disappeared before him. He was panting now, bent over with his hands on his knees, clamping his jaw shut to keep the nausea in check, as well as his emotions. It didn’t help—his head was still spinning.
The Awakener (The Watchers of Men) Page 4