3. THEO
3
THEO
Jesus fucking Christ, Theo. Just walk.
She stands there in a red top that shouts ROME pacing the airport baggage claim in search of me. For a moment, I feel like hiding, knowing that seeing her for the first time in all these years will change my course. Unsure, however, if this path is the dangerous, violent and regrettable choice or the one I should have taken seven years ago. I cough, loud enough for her to hear, and she responds without fail, her head jerking at the sound. She jumps up and down in frenzied excitement, clapping her hands and shrieking.
‘Theo! We’ve been waiting for ever! Come here, right now!’ Anika leaps towards me, her arms outstretched, preparing for a hug.
I notice she is alone. The ‘we’ she refers to is out of habit. I prefer her to them and expected my Houdini act would not be forgotten with the purchase of a fucking plane ticket. But I let myself feel it for one second; after seven years, just her left. Shit. This is going to be a long fucking summer.
‘I missed you too,’ I say, her force causing me to lose my breath. She smells of fresh sunscreen and fig perfume; my eyes close at the nostalgia that brushes over my skin, curls the roots of my hair, and I breathe in deeply. She smells of home. Chivasso has been home since I was seven and my father took us out for ice cream and told us we’d be leaving Edinburgh. I remember the sound of Mamma’s clapping. Her ice cream spoon clattering against the table. She was so excited to return home. To reunite with Vittoria.
‘I can’t believe you’re real!’ Anika squeezes her arms around my waist, gripping so tight it begins to sting.
‘I’d forgotten how big you are!’
‘Right,’ I mumble in her hair, enjoying but never revealing how much I love her missing me. I feel like a brother again, giddy and eager to impress.
‘Haven’t grown since I was seventeen. I think maybe you’re just getting smaller?’ I say to the top of her head. Anika is a foot shorter than me, making it easy to want to protect her. Although I would never fucking think about saying that to her.
‘Shut up. Maybe if you came home every once in a while, I could have prepared for this gargantuan height!’ Her tone is light, but within her words lies my abandonment. She has not forgiven me yet, either. Didn’t think I’d get off that easy, anyway.
She lets go of my waist to look up at my face. Taking her hand, she squeezes my chin with two fingers, forcing my head to look side to side, examining and probing me like a lab rat.
‘Since when did you become such a stud ?’
I take her hand in mine and kiss her palm. ‘I came out of the womb a stud, Anika. Don’t forget it,’ I say with a wink.
She snorts and slaps me on the shoulder. ‘Disgusting!’ she screams, and then tries to pry the luggage out of my hand.
‘The girls in Chivasso will have a field day with you, Theo. You better be careful, it’s still a small town and if you fuck someone, I’ll know in three to five hours after completion.’
‘Jesus, Anika. It’s 8 a.m. Can we not make this the first topic of conversation?’ I jerk my hand away so she misses the handle of my bag. ‘I can carry my own bag,’ I gruff, annoyed that she tried to take it in the first place.
I grab the handle with determination, feeling the need to prove that I have become a grown adult in the seven years she hasn’t seen me. She rolls her eyes but drops her hand, letting me take the luggage handle.
‘No way I’m starting shit with any girls,’ I clarify, wanting it understood that I really have fucking learned.
‘I give you three days.’
‘Oh, come on. You haven’t seen me in seven bloody years. I’m not a Neanderthal,’ I swallow, hoping if I say the words out loud, they’ll be true.
‘Fine. Let’s make it four.’
‘Fuck you, Anika.’
‘And it’s like you never left!’ She prances ahead of me, spinning in circles, barging into airport employees and people waiting for their luggage who stare with disapproval. Her hair is much longer than I remember. Dark and black like our mother’s, and it swings heavily as she trots away.
Within minutes, the tension from the plane ride dissolves. Seven years away. Four in New York. Three in Connecticut. It was easier not to feel guilty when I couldn’t see her face. But now? I release a breath.
This was the right choice.
I feel stupid for considering this the risky path. Stupid for not calling more often. How can life in Chivasso be regrettable if Anika is in it? My baby sister. My hand squeezes around the luggage handle. Guilt and regret sink into me, making my limbs feel sluggish.
An image flashes in my mind of a memory, hazy colours and hushed whispers and the sound of tearing fabric. I squeeze my eyes shut. What I really want is to show her that I am not him , that in adulthood, I will not become him.
She looks back at me, her smile big and proud. I’m not good enough to deserve this. But I look at her, realize my face mirrors hers, and immediately look ahead, suppressing my smile.
‘Fuck off,’ I laugh.
When I’ve caught up to her, her hands are on her hips with disapproval. ‘Your accent has disappeared.’ She tilts her head and laughs silently, eyes light with amusement.
I pause our walk. ‘Tell that to everyone at university who can’t understand anything I fucking say.’
‘Alright, va bene, still a Scotsman.’ Anika throws her hands up in protest. Scottish, Italian, thrust into Ivy League America.
We pass through the sliding doors of Malpensa Airport, and the windless Italian heat overwhelms me. Looking around, feeling the gold and seductive air, a wave of sadness hits me. Home.
‘I’m just saying, I’m noticing a little American in that Scottish, Theo! And your hair! Che cazzo! It’s almost as long as mine! Is this why you’re back? Yale couldn’t get you a job with that hair?’ Her arms are waving everywhere, and her cheeks are red with excitement.
‘I’ve been in New York, Anika. Long hair is very in,’ I say, but unconsciously tuck my hair behind my ear, which I hadn’t realized fell at my chin until just now.
‘Oh, how could I forget! From that one five-minute phone call you made telling us that you were moving to New York fucking City.’ Us, again. She’s always done this. Attached her feelings to theirs.
‘ Tornerò su quell’aereo se non smetti di parlare , Anika!’ I’m going to go back to that airport if you don’t stop talking! I bite, getting my Italian over with. The words feel rusty in my mouth. I wait for her to poke fun. My vowels are too long; my infliction is a beat off.
On cue, she rolls her eyes. ‘I will honest to god murder you if you so much as take a step towards that airport, Theo! There’s no going back now.’
‘Fine,’ I say with a smile. Seeing my sister, it becomes excruciatingly clear that I can’t turn my back on her now. It was never her I wanted to leave. She knows that, of course. But I try not to think of that now.
I follow her into the parking garage; the shade gives momentary relief from the unforgiving heat.
‘Also, Theo, maybe it’s best if you stick to English,’ she laughs. ‘I mean, Jesus, that was like nails on a chalkboard.’ Her face scrunches up in disgust. ‘Got to work on that, Theo! We speak Italiana with an English accent! English! ’ She imitates the elegant accent, winking at me. Anika was only three when we moved to Chivasso, so the only detectable Scottish thing about her is how thrawn she gets in the morning.
‘ Come, questo ! ’ Like this!
‘You realize, in the two minutes since I have landed, that you have insulted my hair, education, and accent?’ I raise my eyebrow at her, teasing my loud-mouthed and forever opinionated sister.
She looks at me, and I expect a witty comeback, but she just stares, and her eyes, without warning, fill with sincere but unplaceable emotion. She is silent for a moment.
‘Why now, Theo?’ she whispers. ‘Why didn’t you ever come back home?’
I swallow, and my tongue is heavy with an unanswerable response, hands suddenly weak as I retract the handle of my suitcase and open the car trunk, taking my time to place it inside the carpeted interior. Taking my time to think of something to say.
‘I was at school.’ My voice comes out annoyed, as if her asking me why I haven’t been home in seven years is somehow a nuisance. It is a lame excuse, and I know she can see right through me.
Liar, liar, liar . It’s written in the furrow of my brow; you can hear it in my inhale.
‘But I’m home now,’ I add, hoping this will be enough for her.
I shut the trunk, shove my hands in my pockets, squeeze them into tight fists, and walk to the passenger side.
Knowing I won’t say any more, she looks at me for one moment longer, sighs again, and nods her head. Accepting for now, for now, that I won’t talk.
Despite our four-year age difference, when we were young, Anika was determined to join me every time I left the house. My protests were always theatrical, conjuring up excuses I had watched older brothers on TV say to their little sisters. Never understanding why I wouldn’t want to have her near. Always happy she even wanted to stay.
Even my secrets could never just be my secrets; they were always ours . Except for one.
My leaving was the first betrayal. I know it hurt her, severed a piece of that bond we once shared. It was the first time she didn’t follow me.
But in all these years, she has never been angry, never blamed me for leaving. Part of her knows why I went, so she lets me get away with lies, but I think the other half will always wonder.
‘That’s right; you’re home now. And I’m not letting you go this time.’ She ducks her head into the car and turns the key in the ignition. I take a breath and squeeze into her tiny orange Fiat. The ceiling is covered in enamel pins from concerts, holidays, and there are at least fifteen saying, ‘FLOSSING IS FUN.’
Anika . I close my eyes as she pulls the car in reverse. If only you knew how much I want to say. How badly I want you to know. My throat burns. We exit the airport parking lot, and I stare out the window. Welcome , the blurring shades of green scream, we thought you forgot us!