40. Chapter 40
OLIVER
Over the course of this past year, I’ve had several firsts, of things I never saw happening. Meeting Luna, hiring Luna, confronting my mother about the childhood trauma she inflicted on me, and lastly falling in love with Luna, though I always thought the mere emotion of love was out of my reach.
The exact reason I intended to get back to her as soon as possible…
and yet here I was. Closer to her than I was before, but not in the same country.
As much as I want to see her again, I’m not fully put back together yet; there’s still something I didn’t think I would be doing, but during the twelve-hour flight here, I knew it was something I had to do.
So here I was, standing in the cold of the European winter, searching for the one thing that held the lack of childhood I had together.
In Italy, searching for someone I longed to see the most, with no idea of where to start.
Relying on my eight-year-old memories I’d spent years repressing, to help me manoeuvre around the town.
Which, funny enough, looked almost identical to how it did twenty-five years ago, apart from a few new buildings here and there.
The more I walked, the more things became familiar to me.
After about half an hour, I found it. The one place I had called home for nearly six months of my life, the place I saw myself growing up.
Putting down roots and growing accustomed to the Italian way of life, it wasn’t the colour I remember it being, but it was the same house.
Knowing what I know now, the missing piece of my childhood makes sense, but the pain of what could have been doesn’t hurt any less. My heart sinks when I see a young couple coming out of my old home, with a small child.
Who looks just as happy as I was living here, the three of them aim to head towards town, but I’m in the way. “Mi scusi,” I recite, stepping aside to let them pass the small path, but they only get a few feet away before I stop them.
As much as it pains me to know Mario no longer lives in that house, I ask them if they’re aware of who lived there before them.
The one good thing about living in a small town like this is everyone knows everyone, which suddenly didn’t work in my favour as they bought the place from an old lady who lived there before them, Ms Romano, A name I don’t recognise.
I thank them for their trouble, and take my time heading back into the heart of town as I try to figure out if there’s anywhere else I could try.
Apart from in town, his house was the only other place I remember being with Mario; even his job as the town’s carpenter was all done in the comfort of his own home, so it was never hard to find him, unless you’re trying to do it too many years too late.
The fight or flight in my stomach tells me to give up, despite only being there for two hours, but much like my therapist has taught me, I try to ignore it and continue to persevere.
****
“So, any luck?” Min-Joon asks as he holds the camera up so I can see his face.
It was evening, the sun was setting, and the air grew colder, but I was no closer to finding the person I came here to find.
I’d spent the past few hours asking around town if anyone knew of a Mario Ricci, but it was like searching for a ghost.
I had only realised how late it had been when Min-Joon rang, so I could wish Theo goodnight; he always greeted me with the very smile that didn’t make me hate the world and cheered me on.
I still had another day to search before I had to go back to Theo and finish up preparations to get back to Luna.
But I couldn’t lie; things were looking bleak.
“Nope, nothing,” I sighed, rubbing my hand over my face, adjusting the way I was sitting on the edge of the fountain.
The very place Mario and I met all those years ago; it was childish to wait here, of all places, hoping our paths would cross again, but the PI didn’t give me much to go on, though the photo I received of Mario was taken here.
Meaning this was my best bet.
“Hey, you will have over twenty-four hours, and you knew this wasn’t going to be easy. You know he’s alive; maybe he just moved?” Min-Joon suggests in a disgustingly positive tone, pairing it with his sympathetic smile.
“And how do you know if that PI was telling the truth? After all that money I paid them, they couldn’t even give me an exact location.
” I rant, mentally preparing to tear that person apart when I get back.
Feeling the effects of being in the cold all day and the frustration of the day not going the way I wanted it to, I threw my head back and stared up at the sky for a few seconds, watching clouds drift by.
“Oliver,” Min-Joon called after giving me a few minutes of silence. I brought my head out of the clouds and looked at my best friend.
“I know you don’t see things this way, but I’ve seen firsthand all the effort you’ve poured into making things right, including confronting your mother about everything.
Something I thought you’d never do, honestly, that was far braver than agreeing to see a therapist. You’ve come farther than you ever have these past few months.
A-and I know you want to find Mario, but you have to know that even if you don’t - doesn’t mean you’re still broken and…
I’m sure Luna will understand that,” he finishes, giving me a non-verbal kind of look, one only he and I understand, reserved for reeling one of us back from a spiral, which, as you can guess, is used more for me than it is for him.
“I hear you,” I sigh, pulling myself to my feet. Now moments away from suffering frostbite, I should call it a day. I’ll head back to my hotel and try again in the morning.
“Oh, and one more thing.” Min-Joon blurts before I can take a step forward.
“I know, you hate to hear it…But I’m proud of you, Oliver. Even if nothing comes from all your efforts today. Know that I am proud of you,” he reveals, so sincerely it reaches my semi-defrosted heart, and I implement one of the things I’ve recently learned: I allow myself to accept his praise.
“You always have to seize the moment, don’t you?” I smile, shaking my head.
“Only for you, my love,” Min-Joon replies with a wink, to which I roll my eyes.
“Thank you…” I add as his face changes from surprise to a grin.
“You really have changed,” he laughs, causing me to join in. For the second time, I shake my head in disbelief.
“I’m gonna head back to the hotel; I’ll call you guys in the morning.” Min-Joon beams at getting to witness me admit defeat.
“Cool.” Now, a normal person would then hang up, but Min-Joon didn’t know the meaning of normal.
“Love you,” he sings, mid-blowing a kiss, but I hang up the phone and shove it in my pocket. I may have learnt a lot and am now fully aware that I love Luna, but expressing love toward anyone else is still a learning curve.
But God help me, the day I do acknowledge Min-Joon’s efforts. The whole ordeal makes me crack a smile and aim in the direction of my hotel, passing the townsfolk out for their pre-evening walk.
“O-Oliver?”
My feet skid on the gravel and come to a stop. The muscle in my chest pounds, and panic trickles down my spine, clenching my fists as an anchor, I slowly turn around.
Evening was drawing closer, but it wasn’t quite dark enough that I couldn’t see the person standing opposite me, on the other side of the fountain; my throat runs dry, my lungs constrict, and my heart drops into my stomach.
Grey hair, kind eyes and a tired look that only came with age.
I’d memorised that photo from the PI the moment I received it.
Yes, it was dark - but no doubt, it was him.
“M-Mar-” I start to say, but the force of being yanked into his embrace stops me.
Now feeling his heartbeat out of his chest, thudding against mine, his arm clutched around my neck, and his hand gently cradled the back of my head.
An easy gesture given, we were now the same height.
His other arm wraps around my back, and the familiar smell of sawdust overwhelms my senses.
“Non posso crederci…” he exclaims as I slowly lift my hand to rest on his back.
“Mio figlio,” he cries, gripping my neck tighter. Forcing me to relax against him and release what feels like years’ worth of relief.
“Pap-” I choke out as my legs turn to jelly, but his protective hold keeps me upright.
I bet no one here expected to see two grown men crying and hugging in the middle of the square when they woke up this morning, but it was. For the first time since I was taken away from him, I sob, and my dad holds me tightly.
“Oh mio dio, sei diventato alto!” he cries out in happiness, as our hug ends and our tears are all gone. He gives me a solid pat on the back, taking a good look at me from head to toe when he clicks his fingers in realisation.
“Ah, you must not know Italian anymore,” he realises, because I still hadn’t said a word during our reunion.
“Riesco ancora a capire l’italiano,” I respond with a smile. He beams with pride in response, pulling me into another hug, patting my back three times fast, then pulls away to hold me by the shoulders.
“That’s my boy, ah?” he declares proudly, then whistles, calling over an Abruzzese Sheepdog, who moves from the spot where Mario was before he jogged over to hug me, and its lead drags on the floor, making its way over to us.
Mario bends to fetch the lead and praises the dog in Italian for waiting, wrapping his arm around mine.
“Come, come mio figlio. We have much to catch up on,” he expresses, pulling me in the direction in which he came. While we’re walking, I look down at the sheepdog. Although it’s the same colour as the dog I remember, its features are different.