Chapter 4 #2
I fell to my knees as I clutched my chest, frantically searching under the bed for the small box of things I’d stashed under there.
I tore the lid off, throwing trinkets around the room until I found the extra concert ticket I’d kept from all those years ago.
The worn paper was rough in my hands, but the memories were as fresh as the day I’d made them.
What was it about that stranger that had infected my mind?
Why was I obsessed with him and not the person who had spent the past four years loving and caring for me?
But I couldn’t stop thinking about my violist. If nothing else, time had only proved just how badly I needed him. I needed to know what he was doing. I needed to know where he was. I needed him to remember me.
I tried to hold myself back for as long as I could, but all of the emotions I’d buried for the past four years poured out of me until sobs wracked my chest, and I truly wished with my whole heart that I could force myself to feel something different.
My heart shattered into a million pieces as I hyperventilated, curled up in a ball on the carpet at the bottom of the bed, trying to figure out how my life had collapsed into something I didn’t recognize.
I knew nothing about my red-haired violist. Not really.
Not enough to throw away this life for him.
The only thing I had to go on was the way he made me feel from across the room, but I’d been holding onto that for so long, it had settled into my bones until it was part of me, and I couldn’t separate myself from it anymore than I could tear out my own beating heart.
It was hopeless. My world was ending, and I started spiraling right when my phone vibrated in my pocket.
I thought it was a text at first, but it didn’t stop, so I pulled it out with a sniffle and looked down to see that one of the booking agents I’d made friends with was calling.
She never called unless it was an emergency, so I wiped my face off with the back of my sleeve, and sniffled as hard as I could to pull myself together.
“Hello?” I said, my voice scratchier than I expected it to be.
“Hey, Ari, it’s Evelina Glaviano! Sorry for calling so late. Is this a bad time?”
“No, no. You’re fine,” I said, wiping another hot tear from my face as it slipped down my cheek. “It’s a lot later for you, though. What are you doing up? How’s Italy?”
“Oh! It’s so lovely, but of course it’s always lovely here!
The weather is so pretty right now. This might be my favorite time of year,” she said cheerfully, and I could tell she was smiling on the other end of the phone.
“Listen, you asked me a few years ago to keep an eye out for a violist with red hair, right?”
“Yeah?” I said quickly, sitting up a little straighter as I pushed my hair out of my face.
“I just booked this guy last night. He was a word-of-mouth referral, so I honestly didn’t expect much, but when he came in for his audition, I thought of you immediately.
I’m not kidding. He was so good, Ari, and he spoke perfect English, thank god!
My Italian is still so rusty. Maybe it’s your guy! ”
“Really? Are you sure? What was his name?” I asked, my heart thudding in my chest.
“Yeah, I mean, I’m not completely sure, but he fits your description exactly. He goes by V, but just the letter. Not V-E-E or anything like that, and no last name. Tell me that’s not super sketchy, right?”
“Yeah. So sketchy,” I echoed, numbness taking over my body as I stared at a small scuff on my wall.
“I mean, he also only takes cash, but that’s not too unusual with these broody artist types, so I wouldn’t read into it too much. But hey—I secretly recorded a short video of him playing, so I’ll text it to you, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay, thanks.” My voice was small as I hung up, and my heart thudded so hard it threatened to burst through my chest. I stared at my phone, the seconds feeling like hours as I waited for the text to come through, and when it did, I stopped breathing completely.
Shaggy, shoulder length red hair.
Black nail polish.
The same jewelry.
The confidence I’d recognize anywhere.
The way he handled his bow.
It was unmistakable. I didn’t even have to zoom in, but I did.
I played the video at least a hundred times while I sobbed uncontrollably, hugging my knees to my chest as the melody played through my phone speaker.
But unlike the sobbing I’d done before Evelina called, these tears came from relief and terror all tangled into one.
Joy exploded in my chest, sharp enough to make me bleed, and I cried out of the frustration that it had taken so long, but also at the realization that my feelings for him hadn’t been limerence.
He was real. He wasn’t a figment of my imagination.
V was real.
And he was in Milan.
I froze, letting my thoughts spiral into something out of my control. What if this was my only chance? If I didn’t go now, I could see exactly what my life would look like. I’d end up married to Jake, and I’d regret it for the rest of my life.
Normal people went to Europe alone all the time.
I already had a passport.
This was just an excuse to go sight-seeing.
It was a vacation—a work trip to see a venue.
This would be healing.
I could hear how crazy my thoughts were, but I didn’t care.
This was it. I had to do it. I didn’t even give myself time to second-guess anything before I pulled out my laptop and booked the ticket.
The confirmation email landed in the app on my phone less than a minute later, then I went into the settings on my computer and went through the steps to factory reset it.
I watched as I lost every folder, every spreadsheet, every single piece of evidence I had built my business on.
When it was done, I packed lightly, throwing just enough into my small carryon to get by, but it was all my favorite things. That way I wouldn't have to come back if I didn't want to. And maybe I was finally losing it, but for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid anymore.
I penned a short note to Jake—the worst apology in the world that absolutely didn’t suffice—and left it on the kitchen counter.
I didn’t look back. Not even when I left my apartment key behind.