Chapter 7 #3
"Shut up, Rava," she says, deadpan. "I'm not an e-girl. I'm a victim."
Jin makes a squeaking sound. I sit down next to her, holding the bottle up. "You've got about seventy-two hours until it fades completely. And look on the bright side."
I gesture vaguely at her head.
"You kinda look magical. Like a vengeful sea witch." She whips her head toward me so fast I flinch. Her eyes narrow.
Then, slowly, she turns that death glare back to Jin.
He whimpers.
I laugh again. Her whole aura screams I'm plotting your death in three stages.
Jin sitting there like a guilty gremlin only makes it funnier.
"You're both dead," she mutters.
"Maybe," I shrug.
"But at least we're dying together."
39) Cousin
Rava
I pick out a white shirt and leave the top buttons open because I am boiling.
And because, well. It looks good. Let’s not lie.
I fix the silver chain on my wrist, checking how it sits against my skin.
I am fully prepared for every local grandma to clutch her pearls and tell me shame on you, young man, over the bit of tattoo peeking out from under my sleeve.
If they saw the other one, the good one, they would probably start throwing holy water at me.
I glance at Daisy in the mirror, exhaling slowly. "You look so Italian right now," she says, squinting at me.
I laugh so hard I almost choke. It is like telling a fish, wow, you look so much like a fish right now.
Bitch, I am a fish.
Maybe that is why it is so funny.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
She tilts her head, all drama. "I mean you are giving coastal summer heartbreak energy while I look like I tried to cosplay as a Smurf and gave up halfway."
I snort and walk over to her, wrapping my arms around her from behind. "You look like a magical sea fairy," I say, resting my chin gently on top of her head.
I run a hand through her damp strands, pretending to be sweet. Then I add, "A sea fairy who lost a battle with a noodle and some printer ink."
"You bitch," she says, shoving me off instantly.
I stumble back, laughing.
"You are such an ass," she mutters, smiling. She grabs her bag and tosses her brush into it.
"Five minutes, okay? Be downstairs. The girls are coming."
I nod, still adjusting my sleeves. "Are we all going in the same car?"
She gives me a look like I just asked if the Earth is flat.
"No. Two cars. Mine and yours."
I raise an eyebrow. "So you are leaving me alone with how many girls exactly?"
She grins. "Three. You will survive. They do not bite."
I stare at her.
Do they not? Do we know that for sure?
I fear women. They are unpredictable.
They notice things. They do too much.
They compliment each other constantly and it stresses me out a lot. At my university back in Canada, it is mostly girls, and I swear they compliment everything. Every tiny detail.
I love your bag.
I love your eyebrows.
I love your existence.
Anything.
So one time, to avoid sitting there like a mute statue, I tried to participate.
I told a girl I liked her scarf.
She literally ran away.
Then started whispering with her friends.
They probably thought I was some kind of pervert.
I just liked the scarf. It hurt my feelings lowkey.
So yeah. Never again. No compliments.
They can compliment each other all they want. I am staying out of it. I walk out of the room and head to the car.
…
We get there in like ten minutes. Not as bad as I expected.
We do not even make it all the way into the chaos and it already smells like food. A lot of food.
Grilled, roasted, fried, everything. There is loud traditional Italian music blasting too which, honestly, is not bad.
It is different. After all these years in Canada, where every corner only plays American pop, my heart kind of needs a little Toto Cutugno screaming through the speakers.
The sky is pink, and thank God it is not unbearably hot today. There is this soft breeze, just enough to cool my skin.
We walk straight into the chaos. There are so many people. Like, an insane amount.
And I like it.
I do not even know why, but suddenly I feel kind of happy. I like being in crowded places.
Too many faces, too much movement. No time to notice what I do. Which means I can relax and have fun.
Do stupid things without feeling like there is a spotlight on me. In front of us there are endless rows of white plastic tables, all covered in half empty plates, crumpled napkins, and abandoned forks.
A complete mess, in a comforting way. Everyone is dancing like crazy. People keep bumping into us by accident as we squeeze through, trying to find a spot.
I almost knock over a whole tower of beer cans.
Wow. That is… a big tower.
The whole place is a disaster, in the best way, that feels like we are in some kind of dance battle.
"There! There is a table! Come on." Daisy grabs my wrist without waiting and pulls me into the mess.
We dodge between dancers and drunk old men singing with their arms around each other, past trays of pasta, clinking bottles, and bursts of laughter.
Someone shoves a glass of limoncello into my hand and I do not even see who it is. When we finally reach the table she spots, I realize it has three chairs and definitely no room for seven people. She turns to me, beaming. "I told you I would find one!"
I stare at the chaos around us.
"Daisy," I say, raising my voice, "are you sure this is a small gathering and not an active fever dream?"
Daisy just grins. "I never said it was a small gathering."
Right. True. That one is on me.
One of Daisy’s friends, I think her name is Chiara, appears with her arms full.
Two bottles of wine, three glasses dangling from her fingers. "Vino, yay," she calls out, laughing as she approaches, like she is bringing treasure from a quest.
"Here, let me help," I say, reaching out quickly before she drops something. She hands me the bottles, and I crouch to place them carefully on the ground beside the table.
She follows, laying down the glasses, and more hands join in from every direction.
They all start pouring wine.
And pouring.
And pouring.
And of course, pouring more. Naturally.
Why worry when you are not the one driving.
Just get absolutely wasted. Who cares. They lift the plastic cups up high, trying not to spill.
"Alla vita!"
"To the chaos," someone yells.
I smile, raise my glass with the rest, and take a sip. It is sweet. A little too sweet. I really like this vibe. Going out was definitely the right call.
My brain needed a rinse after yesterday’s little meltdown. The panic about Gio and the fact that I probably definitely like him.
Here, I can forget. No Gio. No labels. No nothing. Just grilled meat, potatoes, and dancing.
Obviously I am not getting drunk, though. I do not want to push it to the edge. One glass, I tell myself.
Just to be part of it. Just enough to smile and laugh and toast without giving anyone a reason to push. As I set my glass down, one of Daisy’s friends leans in toward me.
"If you are worried about drinking, I can drive after," she says with a wink. "Seriously. Do not stress."
I shake my head, smiling politely. "No, it is not that." I pick up the glass again, lift it slightly.
"This is my first and last for the night. That is a promise."
One hour later
"GUYS, I AM VIbrATING LIKE A FUCKING DIVORCED UNCLE IN A NIGHTCLUB!!!" I shout breathless, but so far past the point of caring it feels like freedom.
Who even said getting drunk once in a while is bad??
It was not me.
This is amazing. I am having the time of my life.
Everything is perfect. I have my arms wrapped around Daisy in the middle of a dancing circle with a bunch of drunk middle-aged strangers, and we are using every last bit of our physical and emotional strength to copy some traditional dance an old man tried to teach us.
That man smells like lemon. That is literally all I remember about him. I can feel sweat rolling down the back of my neck.
My face is probably RED like a TOMATO right now.
I can feel it. It is burning. My hair keeps bouncing and flying up every time we hop around like baby goats, and we are laughing so hard my stomach hurts. I cannot breathe after all this moving, I am actually going to die.
My arms feel like boiled spaghetti. Everyone around me is screaming and shouting and drinking and dancing.
When was the last time I felt this alive??
Hmm.
At the fair with Gio.
Before that?
I don’t even fucking remember what was happening.
Someone next to me is banging on a drum.
Another guy nearby, for some reason, is holding a massive wheel of cheese and just slicing pieces off for everyone, for free.
I do not even bother questioning any of it. I love it. All of it. Keep doing whatever you are doing, people.
Daisy nearly trips into me, grabbing my shoulder to steady herself. Her face is flushed, her mascara halfway to her chin, her blue streaked hair completely frizzed out from the heat and the chaos.
She leans in, shouting over the music, "GOOD THING YOU WEREN’T GONNA DRINK, RIGHT?" I let out a loud, cracked laugh. My voice is raspy, wrecked. "I AM SO DRUNK IT’S A CRIME!"
She cackles. I keep moving, throwing my hands up, nearly elbowing someone in the face. "I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER WHO POURED THAT, BUT IT’S IN ME NOW!"
We twirl again. I slip. Recover.
Slap my foot down in the completely wrong part of the step and a girl shouts, "NAILED IT."
Everything around us blurs into heat, motion, and neon string lights. I have a piece of lemon in my pocket and… no memory of how it gets there. And in that moment I do not care.
Because I am sweaty and breathless. Wrong-footed and half falling. But I am happy. God, I am so stupidly, ridiculously happy.
…
I manage to escape the chaos and collapse onto some random chair at some random table.
What the hell. I drop my head straight onto the table.
Okay, maybe I overdid it. Yeah. No, I definitely overdid it.
I laugh to myself. I am so gone it is actually funny.
My head feels like it is full of rocks. Heavy, clunky, rolling around every time I move.