23. Ivy
twenty-three
Ivy
One Year Later
Sometimes I pinch myself to see if my life is real.
I can’t believe it’s been a year since I moved to Florence. At first it was rough, but eventually I found a sense of peace and purpose I never thought would be possible after Cillian broke things off. It doesn’t hurt that the restrictive rules my dad used to make me follow are a distant memory.
Now, I’m sitting at my bistro table in my flat, sketching out ideas for my next painting. Mom hums softly as she pours steaming liquid into two cups, sets out fresh pastries and fruit, then sits next to me.
“What are you working on?” She takes a bit of a marmalade cornetti and groans. “God, this is fantastic.”
I take a sip of rich, dark coffee. “Ideas for a new piece. We’re going into a week on portraiture. I’ll probably force you to be one of my subjects, be forewarned.”
“I’d be honored. You’re very talented.” Her smile is filled with pride. “You’ve come such a long way, Ivy. I’m proud of you for following your passion.”
It’s true. For past year and a half, I’ve lived life on my own terms. First, traveling to Europe with mom. Then, putting down roots in Italy. I’m in my third semester of intensive courses at the Florence Academy of Art, where I’ve immersed myself into everything they offer—from drawing and painting to sculpture. I’ve made a ton of friends and feel like the Ivy I used to be before my brother died.
“I couldn’t have done it without your support.” I sink my teeth into a custard bomboloni, the greatest pastry in the history of the earth.
She and I settle into our usual comfortable routine, eating and planning out our upcoming travels. This time, my mom is only here for a couple of weeks so we’re sticking close and heading to Siena. I look forward to exploring the medieval city and drawing inspiration from its historic architecture .
“I booked us a room at a charming bed and breakfast in the heart of town.” Mom turns her phone so I can see the modern decor. “We’ll be able to walk everywhere.”
Excitement bubbles. “It’s hard to believe I haven’t been there yet. I can’t wait to see the Piazza del Campo and the cathedral.”
“I love seeing you happy.” Mom stirs her coffee. “Last year broke my heart…”
I nod, the memory still raw. I try not to think about the events leading up to meeting Cillian and the demise of our relationship. “My world fell apart. But you stood up for me with Dad. If you hadn’t whisked me off to Europe, who knows where I’d be.”
Mom’s eyes glisten. “Your father was caught up protecting you, he couldn’t understand how his words would affect you. It didn’t take much convincing, we both want the best for you.”
“We’re a work in progress.” My dad and I aren’t fully on track, but the distance helps. “At least you made him see we needed to be a family again.”
She clears our plates. “Well, spending six months traveling while he was tied up at work, it was exactly what you and I needed.”
“Yeah. It helped us get to know each other again.” My voice is thick with emotion .
From Paris to Rome, London to Ireland, Prague, Hungary, Amsterdam, Munich and Spain, my mom took care of me during the worst of my heartbreak.
Mom puts her hands on my shoulders. “I’m grateful for our travels, Ivy. I feel closer to you than ever.”
“You helped me so much.” I stand and envelop her in a hug. “It’s freeing to finally open up.”
“Are you ready to share his name with me?” she asks gently.
I shake my head. “No. Maybe someday. He knows who Dad is and since he didn’t ask to be brought into our family dynamic, I don’t want to add to his humiliation by outing him for something that wasn’t his fault.”
“You’re showing maturity and compassion beyond your years.” Mom squeezes me tightly. “I’m curious, obviously. But protecting someone you care for is admirable.”
I lean in to her. “I know it hasn’t been easy, but your support means the world to me.”
“Speaking of which, isn’t it time for your dad to call?” Mom looks at her watch.
My phone starts buzzing. “ESP, much?” I show my mom, then hit the speaker button.
“Girls?” My dad’s voice booms through the speaker. He’s always loud, but sounds more relaxed than usual.
“Hi, Dad.” I keep my voice steady. “We’re here.”
He hits the video connect and his face fills the screen. “There they are. How’s Florence treating you both?”
“It’s wonderful, Stan.” Mom smiles at him. “The school is superb. We’ve been exploring the city and are planning a trip to Siena this weekend.”
His smile is tight. “I miss you both, but I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves.”
“How’s the build going?” I can’t help myself. Any news of Cillian is like food, and I’ve only had the most minuscule of crumbs.
“We’re ahead of schedule. I had to deal with a bit of a mess at the jobsite today.” He rolls his eyes. “McGloughlin Construction has been excellent, but Cillian missed a critical meeting with the city. It’s sorted now, but I won’t hesitate to replace him if it happens again.”
My heart sinks. It’s not like Cillian to be unprofessional, I hope he’s okay. Then, I push the thought aside. It’s none of my business. He doesn’t want anything to do with me. My focus has got to be on the progress we’re making as a family.
The three of us talk for easily an hour about school, our upcoming travel and where we’ll spend Christmas this year. None of this would have been possible without dozens of virtual family therapy sessions. I don’t completely trust him yet, but I can see the effort my dad’s making to allow me to live my own life.
It’s a far cry from the distant, controlling man I grew up with.
“I’m really proud of you, Ivy.” Dad’s voice cracks. “You’re special. I’m sorry you felt forced into a life you didn’t want.”
I’m surprised at his show of emotion. A lump forms in my throat. “It means a lot to hear your apology, Dad.”
“I’m truly sorry for everything. I know I can’t change the past, but I’m committed to being better.” He sucks in a breath.
Tears well up in my eyes. “I know you are, Dad, I appreciate it. We’re all healing, one step at a time.”
I hope he means it.
After the call, Mom and I gaze out at the golden glow cast by the morning sun over the Arno river. The peaceful atmosphere has helped me cope and I feel a sense of calm. All of us are moving forward. Rebuilding our lives.
“Your father’s made progress.” Mom wraps an arm around my shoulder. “He’s devastated about how his actions—and his harsh words—affected you.”
She isn’t aware I know she threatened to leave him if he didn’t get help. I overheard the conversation before she told me we were going to Europe for six months. “I know. It’s hard to let go of the past, but I’m glad we’re working through it.”
I don’t express my hope for Cillian to forgive me somewhere down the line. Maybe we can work things out. Of course, he could be seeing someone—a woman closer to his age. The thought claws at my guts. I can’t bear anyone else touching me. The thought of him making love to someone else kills me, though I have no right to feel this way.
“Do you ever think about going back to Seattle?” Mom smooths my hair. She knows I’m thinking about Cillian. We’re in tune with each other again.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m taking things one day at a time. My life is here for now. I’m truly happy with how things are going and I want to see it through.”
Mom moves away to clean up our breakfast remnants. “I’m glad you’ve found your place. I’ll always be here to support you, wherever you end up.”
“I still think about him all the time,” I blurt out, needing to confide in her. “Especially after all the discussions with my therapist.”
Mom turns to me. “Of course you do, sweetheart. He was your first love. Your first sexual experience. He’ll always be a big part of your life.”
“And yet, he was ashamed of me. I wanted to be as important to him as he was to me. Everything about our relationship has been the most profound thing in my life.” Tears pool in my eyes. “Maybe we could have gotten past it if I hadn’t lied.”
She guides me to the sofa. “Most couples with significant age differences genuinely fall in love without any hidden motives. Eighteen is tough—you’re technically legal, but he probably was worried you didn’t know your own mind. I think it speaks to his character that he took this so hard—he was worried about taking advantage of you. I’ll admit, I was concerned when I heard about what you’d done. But, I didn’t want you to feel like you had to sneak around. I let you go to him because I trusted you .”
“Thank you.” I’m relieved to finally have a conversation we’ve deliberately avoided. “For me, it was more than being attracted to each other. Our sense of humor is the same. We have lots of shared interests. The way we listened to each other and really learned about our values and dreams for the future. None of these things have anything to do with age.”
She smiles softly. “The shock of finding out how old you really were probably made him question all of it.”
I sigh. The familiar pang of regret hits me in the gut. “Yeah. I can’t blame him for how he felt. I’ve learned a lot about honesty and trust through all of this.”
“You’ve grown up so much.” Mom squeezes my hand. “I’m proud of you for facing these issues head-on and learning from them. ”
As we sit in silence listening to the sound of the river, memories of Cillian flood my mind. Despite everything, I’m still in love with him. He was the first person who truly saw me. Who understood the pain and longing I kept hidden from the world. If he knew I was here pursuing art, my guess is he’d be happy for me.
I think back to one rainy afternoon. We were curled up on his couch, talking about our dreams and fears. I confessed I didn’t want to take over my dad’s company. How I’d much rather spend my days painting.
Rather than discourage me, Cillian wrapped me in his arms, kissed my entire face and told me I deserved to be happy. I deserved to follow my dreams.
“I love you, Ivy, You’re the most beautiful soul.” He pressed his cheek against mine. “You’re stronger than you know. Be honest with him. He’ll understand.”
Fighting back tears because I miss him desperately, I know we’re an impossible dream. My focus must remain on the life I’m living here in Florence.
Losing him is still unimaginably painful.
And there’s nothing I can do about it.