Chapter 11
I stood on the street outside my parents house, hands on my hips, my head was thrown back, and sweat ran down my forehead. The last of the boxes were squeezed into Abby’s car and we were leaving for York soon after. I walked back into the house and grabbed a couple of cold drinks from the fridge for our journey. My room was now completely empty besides a desk and my old, wooden twin bed. I paced slowly around the house taking one last look around before heading back to the kitchen. Neither of my parents were home and I didn’t know if I was relieved or saddened by it. My mother had given me a somewhat strained goodbye before leaving for a nail appointment and I had not seen my father for a couple of days. Apparently he was sleeping at the office now.
I twisted the garage and back door keys off my keyring and placed them next to the note I had left on the kitchen counter. I had written down my new address so they could forward any post to me or find me if they happened to feel like a visit. I also left details of my new place of work and when my semester was starting for no particular reason other than to prevent them from accusing me of shutting them out. With one last look around the hall I shut and locked the front door, posted my last key through the letterbox, and turned my back for potentially the last time on my childhood home. I didn’t cry, even when Abby offered me a sympathetic hug as she shrugged away from the car door, I smiled bravely and encouraged her that I was fine.
With a long journey ahead the footwells of the car were full of snacks and drinks. The road trip playlist was already playing loudly through the speakers. We wound the windows down low as the late summer sun shone brightly on us. I began to feel the first flutters of excitement and a sense of freedom so great it took me back to being on the back of Sam’s bike after my first, soul-baring painting. The thought was suddenly sobering as it brought my mind back to Sam and the current dilemma I was facing regarding our relationship. I sat in silence once again and focused on the wind pushing back the hand I’d stretched out of the window.
“What are you thinking about?” Abby broke my reverie by turning down the stereo. “I spoke to Nonna. She said she saw Sam’s uncle a few times but no Sam. His uncle told her that he was locking himself away from the world, spending hours on the computer, and sneaking around doing God knows what.” Nonna’s email had done nothing to quell the sense of impending relationship doom I felt getting closer each day. I still had not heard from Sam and if he was glued to his computer then he would have seen my email to him. “You should contact him then. Call, text, email. Pass me a cookie.” She gestured toward the pack with her chin. I shoved a Maryland cookie into her open mouth as she stared out at the road. “I did,” I replied. “And?” She asked through a mouthful of crumbs that sprayed the dashboard. I sighed and shrugged, “Nothing! He doesn’t answer calls, texts, or emails. It’s like I don’t exist to him anymore.”
A few miles later into our journey we were still discussing Sam’s lack of contact and Abby was trying to cheer me up with her various theories. “Ana, he’s probably just depressed and missing you so he’s busy desperately trying to find a way to move back to England. You’ll see.” I hoped more than anything that she was right. For Sam to decide he no longer wanted me would be tragic enough. If he had made that choice and not told me it would be even harder. I had sent him another email after reading the response from Nonna. I asked him where he was and what he was doing and why I hadn’t heard from him. I text his phone asking him to get in touch as soon as possible. And eventually when neither of those garnered responses I called his mobile. The phone rang and rang without going to voicemail. When I tried again the following evening I was notified that the person I was calling was unavailable.
Eventually I decided I did not want my moving day tainted by worry. I turned the music volume back up and we sang old 90’s hits at the top of our lungs all the way up the motorway. This was a new beginning and although Sam had been a part of it I could not rely on someone else to help me live my life, not anymore. I told myself that I would give him a little more time. I would wait until the semester had started and if I hadn’t heard from him then I would go on with my life without him. The thought hurt me deeply but I refused to chase him anymore. Deep down I prayed that he was finding his solution and I would see him again soon. Until then I was going to enjoy the new woman he had helped me to become.
* * *
The sun was beginning to set over the paddock behind my flat. Abby and I stretched out flat on the blankets piled on the floor, exhausted from a long day of unpacking and furniture building. I now had a double bed and desk in the bedroom. There was no need for a wardrobe as those were already built-in. I had also invested in some bookshelves and a coffee table for the living area, the sofa wouldn’t be delivered for a few more days. My old easel stood proudly near the window, a small table housing my various painters’ tools and boxes of paint stood next to it. The fridge freezer and cooker were built-in but I had purchased a washing machine and microwave and all the utensils I could possibly need.
The little flat was feeling more and more like home with every box we emptied and, once the last item was placed on my shelves, Abby and I ordered pizza and collapsed onto the various blankets I had spread on the floor in lieu of a sofa. We lay on our stomachs and ate our pizza straight from the box. I felt like a kid again having a sleepover with my best friend. I wanted her to stay with me for good, live here in York and be my comfort blanket from home, but all too soon she had to leave before she got too tired to drive back. I walked her back down to her car.
“Thank you so much for all your help!” I squeezed her tightly before she climbed into the driver’s seat. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Or how to repay you.” She closed the car door and wound down the window before starting the engine. “Well, to start you can call me at least a couple of times a week to tell me about your fantastic new life. Oh and you have to let me come crash any student parties you get invited to.” I laughed and assured her I would. “Tell me as soon as you hear from Sam.” I nodded and waved her off as she pulled away and down the street. I stood on the curbside with my arms crossed tightly across my chest. I was officially alone.
This far from the town centre the sky was a deeper blue and the stars shone against it like white paint spatter. It wasn’t Surrey, but I still found it beautiful. Before long a sleek Audi entered the street and pulled onto the drive next to me. A man in his mid-thirties, good looking with dark hair and wearing a navy suit, climbed out of the driver’s side. I smiled at him, trying to be friendly, and walked back toward the house. “Are you the new tenant upstairs?” The man had locked his car and was also heading toward the house. I turned and eyed him warily, “Yes, I’m Ana. And you are?” The man held his hand out for me to shake it. I took it in mine and shook gently before retreating. “Nice to meet you, Ana, I’m Tom. I’m under you. So to speak.” I blushed to my roots but nodded in acknowledgement.
A light came on on the lower floor and I was aware the front door had been open for some time. I wandered into the hallway and Tom followed, closing the door behind him. “I’m here four or five days a week, usually keep to myself. If you need anything then feel free to knock on my door when I’m here.” His smile was genuine and friendly, it reached his eyes and I felt I could trust him. I relaxed and leaned against the stair post. “Thanks. Actually I was wondering if there was a laundromat around here where I could dry my clothes. You know, in case the weather isn’t good enough to hang them outside.” He pointed down the ground floor hallway toward the back of the house, “There’s a utility room down there with a communal tumble dryer and various cleaning items. Pete just asks that we replace whatever we use.”
Pete was the owner of the building that lived on the ground floor. I had met him that morning on my arrival. He had seemed friendly, if a bit serious, and reminded me a little of my own father. I thanked Tom for his help and began heading up the stairs, again he followed behind me. “Pete told me you’re from Surrey. What brings you t
o York? Work?” I stopped outside my door, reluctant to invite a stranger into my flat. “No, I’m starting a fine art course at the university soon.” I saw the confused look in his eye and how he scanned me quickly from head to toe, a question on his lips, I decided to answer it for him. “I’m twenty-three, soon to be twenty-four. Kind of pursuing a change of career so I’m starting from scratch.”
Luckily he did not question me any further. I was slightly worried I’d have to talk about my family breakdown and daddy issues. Instead he nodded and smiled and turned back toward the stairs. “Well, like I said if you need anything you know where I am.” He waved me goodnight and jogged back down to the second floor. I hoped he would turn out to be a good neighbour and not the creepy stalker downstairs. I quietly crept back down the stairs to explore the utility room. There were mops and cloths and cleaning sprays next to a fairly decent tumble dryer. I hadn’t thought to buy cleaning products, at least now I didn’t have to.
I turned out the lights and wandered back up to my flat, locking my door behind me. I curled up on the floor amongst the blankets and looked around at my own little space. I had never lived on my own before. It was deafeningly quiet and I began to feel like a scared little girl, not ready to be left on her own, not ready to be solely responsible for so much. Soon I heard the low hum of a television from the flat below me. The sound relaxed me and let me know I wasn’t completely on my own. I grabbed a book off my shelf and sat with my back against the wall and blankets piled around my legs. I grabbed a slice of cold pizza, sat back, and relaxed. Today I began the rest of my life.
* * *
My second week in York was coming to an end and I was finally feeling at home. My first few shifts at the cafe were going well, I now had a sofa to sit on instead of the floor, I had started painting again and Tom and I were fast becoming friends. When our friendship had progressed and he invited me to dinner in his flat I knew I had to tell him about Sam. He didn’t seem surprised when I eventually awkwardly spilled the beans about my boyfriend abroad. He said that women usually flirted with him if they were single and I had done none of that. It turned out that he was actually quite the art critic and we often had long discussions, bordering on playful arguments, where we disagreed about various works.
I had purchased a bike and ridden into town a few times. Even though I struggled with some of the hills, and ended my journeys rather clammy and out of breath, I could feel my fitness improving with each day. York was an amazing place to live, with so many sights to see I told myself I would have to find someone to give me a proper tour. Perhaps a new friend or future classmate would be able to show me the best places. I was starting my course in just a few days and was eager to make some friends and make York, even more, my home. At the same time the thought of starting from scratch completely terrified me. I had been painting for years but for some reason art felt completely new and alien to me.
Over the weeks I had read and re-read all the books Sam had passed on to me in Pisciotta. I researched my lecturers, visited the campus, and checked out the local art scene to try and piece together what I should expect of the coming months. My paintings of late were the result of wild mood swings. Excitement one minute and loneliness the next. I kept in regular contact with Abby and Nonna. My mother had even caved in and called me a couple of times. I video Skyped her on one occasion so that she could see my little flat. Surprisingly she seemed almost proud, although she never said it. I still had not heard anything from my father.
Sam had not responded to my messages either. I had spent a few nights crying, feeling like I had lost the love of my life because he didn’t want me anymore. I didn’t bother chasing after him anymore. I had felt abandoned and alone even though Nonna and Abby tried encouraging me with the fact that he hadn’t actually told me he was breaking up with me and maybe there was something happening I didn’t know about. Regardless of his reasoning it was completely out of order for him to shut me out like that. How could he leave me the way he did, his only communication a sketchbook and desperate sex, and not expect me to now think he had left me. I felt like I would send him away even if he did show his face.
The night before my first lecture I spoke with Nonna and she had some news that set my heart racing. She had gone by Sam’s grandmother’s house to confront him but his grandmother had informed her that he had left Pisciotta to return to England. He had not said where he was going, just that he would call her when he had settled. “Did you hear me, Ana? He must be trying to find you.” I choked back a sob and took a deep breath to control my emotions. “Ana, are you okay?” I didn’t answer immediately. I didn’t know how I felt. “Yes, Nonna. I just don’t understand why he hasn’t contacted me. I’ve heard nothing. He might not even be back to be with me.” My grandmother tutted and ignored me, eager to keep the mood light she said I should contact him straight away and let him know where I was.
When I finished my call with Nonna I grabbed my laptop and curled up on the sofa with it in my lap. I opened my email user, browsed my inbox and junk mail, but there was still nothing from him. I opened a new email and was about to write to him but I stopped myself. This man had not given me any solid inclination that he still wanted to be with me. Did I want to embarrass myself further by begging him to come and see me if he didn’t want to? I closed the laptop and shoved it in my backpack ready to take to my lecture the following day. I drew a line under the evening by heading to bed early, trying my hardest not to think of Sam and the possibility of our relationship being unsuccessful.
The following morning, after numerous dreams of making love by the fireside and swimming in his arms I resolved what I was going to do. I showered, dressed nicer than I usually do as it was my first lecture that morning, and gathered all my things, placing them in the basket of my bicycle. The morning was fine but breezy, butterflies filled my stomach and my nervous energy increased the closer I got to the university. When I got to campus and found my lecture room I realised I was the first person there. I took a seat halfway up the stands and in the centre of the row so that I was central to the whiteboard and nobody would have to climb over me as more people arrived.
I took out my laptop and opened a new email. I had told myself that morning that I would be the bigger person and write to Sam first but I didn’t know where to begin. After staring blankly at the empty seats for a few minutes I began to type.
Sam,
I don’t know what to say to you other than I miss you. I don’t know why you haven’t been in touch and while I am deeply hurt by this I have decided to give you the benefit of the doubt and trust you. Your sketchbook is the last bit of hope I am clinging to.
Nonna said you have moved back to England. Please tell me where you are. I need to see you again. So much has happened and all I have wanted is to lie in your arms and share it all with you. I hate the thought of us being so close and not knowing where to find each other.
I have something to admit to you. I am not just simply doing art classes. I actually got a place at York St John University. I am currently sitting in a lecture theatre, waiting for my first lecture to begin, and all I have wanted to do is tell you about it. I know your opinion on learning in a setting such as this but all you should know is that this is what I want. I am happy and proud.
So that you can finally visit me again, if that is what you want, my address is 53C Westminster Road, York. I live in my very own flat.
Please get in touch. I have so much to tell you.
Ana
I sent the email, closed my laptop, and took out my notebook and pen. A few more people were beginning to arrive, each person sitting away from the others, it was clear nobody knew each other yet. I doodled some small sketches across the corner of my page for a further thirty minutes as the room slowly filled around me. Eventually the door swung open one final time. The lecturer paced quickly over to his desk at the front of the room and grabbed a pen out of the top drawer. I looked up and saw the back of his head and a long arm outstr
etched to the top of the board as he wrote his name for us. My breathing faltered. I immediately recognised the expanse of his shoulders, the taut muscles in his forearm, and the way his hand held the pen, similar to how I had seen it hold a paintbrush all summer. My eyes swung to the name now prominently displayed in large black letters. I immediately sat up straight, my mouth open and aghast. The noise and my location in the room caught his attention and our eyes met, golden brown to piercing green. I watched as the initial shock and confusion morphed into something else and, not for the first time, I stared into the angry green eyes of Samuel Beneventi.
Chapter 12
The colour drained from his face and he stammered mid-sentence as he addressed the room. I couldn’t breathe, I sat still like a statue, torn between utter confusion and wanting to run into his arms and kiss him in front of everybody. He continued addressing the class, his eyes darting in my direction every now and then, concern marring his beautiful features. Of all the ways I had imagined our reunion this had never been one of them. I had so many questions. I couldn’t concentrate on a single thing he had said. He had stopped looking toward me and was regaining confidence in his speech. I heard him talking about his work and the pieces he had exhibited, about how he was new to teaching and hoped to shape the artists of tomorrow. It was all rather endearing.
My Heart Lies in Pisciotta Page 9