This Love

by Hilaria Alexander

“What? It’s Italian,” she added innocently.

  “Exactly,” I scoffed, taking a sip. I wanted to hate it, but it was really, really good. Damn you, Italy. Land of good wines, good food, breathtaking landscapes, and romance. Starting tomorrow, you’d also have Lou Rivers. Not that he was moving there forever, but still.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Ally asked, still eyeing Lou in the distance.

  “Yeaaaah, of course,” I shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I added, trying to act cool and chill about the whole thing. I overdid it and I could tell she didn’t believe me in the slightest. I couldn’t blame her. I didn’t believe my own words either.

  “Yeah,” she said doubtfully, “you look totally fine. Okay, don’t turn around right now, but I should probably let you know he is walking over here. Try to act cool, real cool, okay? At least try.”

  “Say something,” I told her, leaning closer to her.

  “What?” she asked, confused.

  I knew Lou was close to us by now, so I started laughing maniacally, my head rolling backwards. I covered my mouth with my hand, like I had just heard the biggest joke of my life. Act cool? Yeah, this was downright pathetic.

  I looked at Ally, and she gave me an imperceptible shake of her head.

  “Hey Lou, how are you?” she asked giving him a hug; he looked at me over her shoulder. He winked, and I smiled in response. He looked so handsome. He was wearing a gray button-down, long-sleeved shirt with a skinny black tie and tailored black pants.

  “Great! You ladies look beautiful tonight!”

  I could tell he was eyeing me appreciatively, and I tried not to blush when he kissed me on the cheek. I gave him a hug, and before I let go I immersed myself in the smell of him. He had just shaved, and I wanted nothing more than to be able to do obscene things to his face. I wanted to kiss him every which way ’til Sunday.

  Apparently I wasn’t the only one, because he leaned into me and whispered, “You’re not getting rid of me later.” He flashed me a wicked grin to which I responded by nodding and biting my lip. I wanted every minute we had left. Johan came over to offer Lou a beer and then reminded me it was time to start. He raised one of the microphones and started getting everyone’s attention in Dutch.

  Johan and I had a speech prepared; he said what he wanted to say to our clients and friends in his native language, and I was translating verbatim for Lou and Ally. Well, translating wasn’t the right word. I had simply written down what Johan told me he was going to say. It was short and sweet, but I was still nervous I’d fumble saying the words. I looked at the note in my hand and re-read the words, as Johan was saying them in Dutch.

  “Dear family and friends, we are here gathered to say goodbye to a good friend of ours who has brought us a lot of joy over the last few weeks. Now, traditionally, we should be the ones providing entertainment for him, but frankly speaking, no one here is half as good as he is…no, not even you, Ella,”—he said, patting me on the shoulder and everyone laughed at that—“so, we would kindly like to ask him to play for us one last time.”

  Everyone clapped when Johan was done with his “speech” in Dutch and everyone clapped again when I was done saying it in English.

  There was something else I needed to add, though.

  I grabbed Johan’s arm and asked him to translate after me. I searched for Lou in the crowd and locked eyes with him. Even from far away I was able to notice the softness in his eyes when he looked at me. It made my resolve waver. I didn’t want to lose him.

  “Actually, I’ll start by playing a song for the guest of honor.”

  Ever since he told me when he’d be leaving, I had been thinking about a song to play just for him, to say goodbye and tell him how much he meant to me.

  I did some research and in the end I settled on a classic song, “Tennessee Waltz.” The lyrics weren’t completely fitting—I had no old friend stealing him from me—but pretty soon I would know how much it hurt to lose him. I looked up a lot of different covers that had been done through the years. I settled on making my cover a mix between Norah Jones’s and Otis Redding’s version; that way it would have just the right tempo, and would sound sweet but less melancholic. I thought about playing halfway through the evening, or toward the end, but I felt so nervous and jittery I knew I just had to get it over with.

  Johan and I had moved the piano so that it wouldn’t be facing the wall. We had turned it all the way around in the opposite direction, and it was slightly angled so that I was still able to look at everyone and sing in the microphone that had been situated on the side.

  As I took a seat, I smiled, trying to hide the nervousness, and exhaled a deep breath.

  “This is for you, Lou,” I said, locking eyes with him briefly.

  It was still surreal to play again, and it felt even stranger to be elated when I did. I was too focused on playing and singing the song to really look at the friends that surrounded me, but I could feel their eyes on me and I knew they were silently cheering me on.

  When I was done, I smiled nervously and took a bow, and was soon embraced by Lou. It was a friendly hug, not a romantic one. Thankfully, he didn’t kiss me either. I wouldn’t have known how to keep a lid on all the emotions coursing through me.

  I glanced around and noticed Hans Koll in the crowd. He was sitting at a table by himself, an impassible expression on his face. He wore a three-piece beige suit with a white shirt and a polka dot tie. Unless you had seen his picture before—which I had just done recently because I had googled him after Lou told me about him—and knew who he was, you would have never guessed he was a famous music producer. He looked flamboyant but in a very old-fashioned way, and his expression was stoic, unfazed. I wondered why he had shown up. I remembered Lou saying he avoided crowds at all costs, and he hardly ever left his house. His eyes met mine, but his expression didn’t change. It was hard and cold, and I didn’t like how it made me feel.

  Lou grabbed his guitar, which had been placed near the piano, and started tuning it while he thanked everyone for being there. He suggested a song we had played before, and he asked if I could play it on the piano this time instead of the guitar.

  I nodded.

  We played for a little over two hours, taking breaks in between, chatting with everyone who had shown up. Lou caught up with Hans Koll as well and introduced me. I tried to be pleasant and make conversation, but I only got a stone cold face from him when I tried to ask something, and the only words coming out of his mouth were either yes or no. After a few attempts, I excused myself, saying I had to check with Helga to see if she needed help.

  Around nine thirty, Johan suggested we stop playing. He noticed several of his customers were pretty drunk, and he was afraid the longer they stayed, the more they’d drink. It was actually good timing, because it gave Lou an opportunity to say goodbye to everybody, including Ally. She promised she’d be visiting him in Tennessee next time she’d come visit her family in the U.S., and I felt a sudden fit of jealousy, but I knew it was because I had no idea when and if I’d ever see him again.

  The sudden anguish I had about him leaving made me start thinking maybe I should follow him after all. And then, another part of me would say I was going down the same road all over again. You’re letting someone else influence your decisions, I told myself. When I looked at it that way, I felt determined about not giving in. I didn’t want anyone else to persuade me, or define me, let alone a man I was in love with decide what was best for me. It should have been easy sticking to my own good advice, but I kept failing.

  I loved and hated the feeling of wanting somebody. It made me feel alive, and at the same time, vulnerable and weak. Part of me feared that no matter how much I tried to fight it, this love was going to be a time bomb, set to eventually destroy me.

  I was in the back helping, and as I came out, I found him playing a nursery rhyme with Lieke. She sang along in Dutch, and he was smiling at her. His dimples were showing, as well as that swoon-worthy smile. RIP, my ovarie
s, it’s been good knowing you. Good grief. Could he make it any easier to love him?

  All I could think about was that I wanted to take him away with some excuse and take advantage of him in my room upstairs. This little fantasy made me realize we really didn’t have a lot of time left, and I wanted him, so badly. I was so lost in my daydream, that when Helga nudged me on my elbow, I couldn’t help but blush a bright red. She looked in the direction I was looking at, and a knowing smile broke on her face.

  I lowered my head, trying to avoid her eyes.

  She sweeped my hair off to the side and kissed me on my forehead, almost by my temple. It was such a sweet motherly gesture.

  I couldn’t recall when the last time my mother had kissed me like that.

  “My darling girl,” she whispered as she hugged me. “You need to follow your heart.”

  I let out a deep sigh. “But I’m so scared, Helga.”

  “You should follow your heart, especially when something scares you. That’s how you know it’s worth the risk.”

  CHAPTER 12

  I had no shame.

  I ended up dragging him up to my room telling him I had something to give him. I had no idea if he believed me or not, but he just smiled and followed along.

  As soon as the door slammed shut I threw myself at him.

  His hands flew into my hair, while I cradled his smooth jaw, nipping and biting him, and then bringing his lips to mine. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one desperate for him. His kisses were just as urgent and passionate.

  “I feel like I haven’t kissed you in forever,” I said in between kisses.

  “It was forever,” he replied. “You have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you all night long.”

  He held me tight to him, kissing my jaw, my neck, below my ear; basically everywhere he could. I was suddenly aware that my dress had a pretty conservative neckline. I wanted to take it off.

  I lifted my arms to start unzipping it, and when he figured out what I was trying to do, he started helping out.

  “Let me,” he said, giving me a wicked grin.

  I moved my hair forward so it wouldn’t be in the way. He undid the zipper and started placing kisses everywhere on my neck and my back while pushing the dress off my shoulders. I helped him out, and the dress fell to the floor.

  He kissed my shoulder and held one of my hands, while he hugged me around my waist with the other, his hand skimming under my camisole, pressing himself against me and letting me know he wanted me just as much as I wanted him.

  The fire in my belly was torture, and I knew it wouldn’t subside until I got what I wanted. And I wanted him. So much. Why had I rejected him all these days, denying myself of this? Oh, that’s right, because I was an idiot. And tomorrow he would be leaving, and I wanted nothing more than for him to stay. I turned around to face him and started kissing him again.

  “I want you so badly, Lou,” I said against his lips.

  He didn’t reply, but the groan that escaped his mouth let me know he did too. His eyelids were heavy, his eyes darker than usual. His kisses became as frantic as mine.

  I kissed him stupid, pulling him with me to my wrought iron twin size bed. My room was big but pretty plain, with white walls, a high ceiling, scarce, mismatched furniture and a fireplace that didn’t get much use. It looked just like the plain room of an exchange student. I had been here months and months, and the room was still pretty bare and empty. Now it felt like the two of us were filling the entire space.

  “You have too many clothes on,” I joked.

  I undid his tie, and the buttons of his shirt were next. I sat on the bed and tugged his undershirt, trying to lift it off.

  He stopped my hand and grabbed it in his.

  I looked at him, confused.

  “Come to Florence with me,” he said softly.

  I stood up and grabbed his hands, interlacing his fingers with mine. I paused for a moment, staring into his eyes.

  “You know I can’t,” I replied.

  He let go of my hands and took a few steps backwards.

  “You know what I can’t, Ella? I can’t stand to hear the load of excuses you made for yourself.” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply.

  I looked at him bewildered. I frowned, and as I did that, the expression on his face got harder, angrier. I had never seen him like this.

  “You are so lucky you have all these people in your life, and I can’t believe they never call you out on your bullshit. You said your parents always made decisions for you and you regretted all the missed opportunities, but guess what? You’re doing the same thing, all by yourself. You built yourself this nice little cage, where you think you can be safe, with no one ever bothering you, ever questioning you! What happens when someone tries to let you out? You won’t ever leave your cage, will you? What are you going to do? Stay in this room forever because it feels safe and less dangerous than whatever else is out there?”

  I sat down again, speechless, gripping the edge of the mattress with my hands, trying to find my own voice. I didn’t know what to say to all that. I couldn’t tell if I was more hurt by his words or by how angry he sounded.

  “Lou, you know it’s not that simple,” I said, biting my lip.

  “It’s very simple, Ella, and you know it.”

  “Helga and Johan need me. Lieke needs me.”

  “They might need you, but they can afford to be a couple of weeks without you. Those people love you, they’d do anything for you.”

  “My job is here. I can’t come.”

  “I am sick of listening to your excuses. When are you going to start doing the things you said you were going to do? You’ve been here how long? Have you actually gone anywhere?”

  “Stop it,” I muttered, my voice breaking.

  “Like I said, excuses.”

  “Did you ever think maybe I don’t want to do what you want me to do? Maybe I don’t want to come to fucking Florence, have you ever thought about that? Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with being afraid. The way I see it, you’re just another person trying to decide for me. You’re acting like an asshole!” I yelled, breathing heavily.

  Were we really fighting about this? It had come down to this?

  “If this is what you think of me, I don’t need to be here. I’ve got nothing left to say.” I couldn’t bring myself to say anything else. Nothing I was going to say was going to placate him, and I’m not sure we could move past all the things we had said to each other. Not tonight, at least.

  He grabbed his shirt, put it on and headed for the door. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him. I heard the door open, and I lifted my eyes to meet his. He gave me one last, remorseful look. I was mad, so mad. His words felt like slaps in the face. I gave him one angry stare, and he slammed the door behind him.

  I sat on the edge of my bed, in my underwear, staring at the floor for a while. I wasn’t quite sure what had just happened. Eventually, I burst into tears. How had we come to this? We had been kissing just a few minutes ago, for crying out loud! I never would have imagined we’d get into a fight. This was it. No goodbye, no nothing. I grabbed my phone, and I stared at the screen. Surely he was going to call, right? This was not like him, at all. Or at least I had never seen this side of him; I had never seen him angry in all the days we spent together. Maybe a little bitter about the outcome of his failed marriage, but never angry at anyone. Worst of all, he was angry at me.

  I debated calling him, but I had too much pride to do that. He was the one who got mad. He should have been the one apologizing to me! He had single-handedly ruined this night. I sat at my desk and looked in the mirror, wiping my tear-streaked makeup off with a cleansing cloth.

  I crawled under the blankets, and after a few hours of stirring and constantly checking my phone for a message, or a phone call, I went to sleep.

  A few days went by.

  I was confident pretty soon I’d be okay again.

  I wasn’t moping around or crying my
self to sleep. I was trying my hardest to be in a good mood and act like nothing was wrong.

  Apparently no one believed I was fine. True, I was heartbroken, but I hadn’t cried since the night of my fight with Lou. They needed to cut me some slack. But no matter how cheerful I tried to be, they all walked on eggshells around me. It was like everyone was just waiting for the moment when I would break. I was determined not to let that happen.

  I kept telling them I was fine, and no one would believe me.

  I ended up sleeping on Ally’s couch three afternoons in a row, trying to get away from the overbearingness I had to put up with at home.

  Ally said I snored, and I knew it drove her crazy, but she never kicked me out.

  I never heard from Lou.

  No message, no call. Every day I debated calling and texting him.

  I had a few days to think about it, and after talking to Ally, I started to see things in a different light. Besides a short-term job, what else did I have going for me in Amsterdam? I had lovely friends that were so special to me, but in all the time spent here, had I been able to figure out what I wanted to do with my life?

  I wanted to play, but other than messing around on the streets, what else had I been doing? Not much of anything, really. Not until Lou showed up.

  He had asked me to take a chance, to do something that might be worthwhile, and I refused to take a risk. I rejected the opportunity of doing something that could have been actually good for me, if not great.

  I was having dinner with Helga, Johan, and Lieke in their apartment when the subject was brought up. We hadn’t discusses Lou, Florence, or my future at all, and I was fine with it. I knew it was inevitable, though. Every time I would raise my eyes and look in Johan or Helga’s direction, I would catch them having this “silent conversation.”

  “What is it?” I asked, my mouth still full of food.

  Helga gave me a disapproving look, pointing at Lieke with her head.

  “Excuse me,” I apologized, covering my mouth with a napkin.

  I finished my bite and since neither one of them had said a word, I asked the same question.