Chapter 1 #2
I nodded. I didn’t have to say it was my “responsibility.” They know they have it too.
Of course, the fact that my parents are divorced makes things a little more complicated.
The fact that we each live in a different country makes everything more complicated.
The whole point of these parties is to show that even if they’re divorced, the family is united, which is not true.
I see my dad every two months, if not less.
In the beginning, the calls were constant but diminished over the years.
I remember when we moved to Portugal, I was only ten.
My grandad was sick, and being an only child, my mom had to take care of the family business.
My dad understood that we had to move from Italy to Portugal.
He traveled constantly to Italy. Many of those times, he would come to Portugal just for the weekend.
Everyone was hopeful that Grandad would get better and we could go back to our lives, but a year went by, and he passed away.
In the year that followed, my parents separated.
Maybe the distance and the workload were the reasons, or maybe they stopped loving each other.
Me and my brothers stayed with my mom. In reality, I don’t think my dad actually fought for custody, so he moved permanently to Italy.
At first, he would come to visit every weekend, like he used to when they were still together, but little by little, he would come every fifteen days, then once a month, then once every two months, and so on.
I miss Italy; I mean living there. I only visit once a year.
But if I had never moved, I wouldn’t have befriended Leticia and Aurora, so maybe it wasn’t so bad considering all the bad things.
“Did you speak to your parents about the trip we want to take?” Leticia asks.
“Not yet. Do you believe they were fighting this morning in the middle of our breakfast?” I ask.
Aurora laughs and nods her head frenetically. Her dad is good friends with mine and does business in a wine brand that they created together, so she ends up knowing all my dad’s complaints.
“My mom wants me to study here. It’s where I’ve been studying since I was ten.
But my dad thinks I should change sceneries, and by that, he means move back to Italy and go to college there.
When I told them I wanted to study in London, they stopped their fight to stare perplexedly at me as if I don’t have a say in the matter.
So they ignored me and continued arguing about where I should go as if I wasn’t even in the room.
They stopped only when I screamed that I was going because it’s my life and I decided.
By the way, both are mad at me since breakfast!
” They both start laughing loudly as if what I’ve just told them is the funniest thing they’ve heard in days.
I glance at them, confused and clearly searching for an explanation.
“You finally stood up for yourself and didn’t let them control your life. I’m so proud of you, Chiara. You have no idea how proud!” As soon as Aurora stops, I look over to Leticia, and she’s simply nodding her head, smiling slightly.
I finally understand that it’s true. I always let my parents run my life for me, and when I wanted something, they’d just say no, and I’d just give up on the idea, but not today.
Today, I said what I wanted and didn’t let them take that away from me.
I’m going to university. I’m moving to London with my two best friends and making my own decisions.
In an epiphany, I tried something that I never did before: freedom.
And now that I had a small taste of it, I’m not going to let anyone take it away.
I smile back at my friends, put out my hands, one on each side, and both land their hands on mine.
I squeeze their hands in mine, a gesture that they return, knowing that, yes, I’m also proud of myself.
I leave their hands, reaching for my glass of champagne next to an unopened bottle.
I smirk at them, and they smirk back. I open the bottle carefully and distribute the liquid through the three glasses, raising mine up.
I close my eyes for a few seconds, wishing that I could feel like this for the rest of my life.
We toast to life itself, the future, the one we chose, the university, a new beginning, and who knows, maybe even new friendships.
I can’t stop thinking about living in a different country where no one has any idea who I or my family are.
This will possibly be the best choice I have ever made.
For many years, money and power, loaded by my surname, defined everything, from friendships to schoolsandclothes.
And I feel like I desperately need a fresh start, literally from scratch, without having anything to define me but myself.
I look at the clock hands and they mark 02.
00. The party is far from ending. Even though we find ourselves distant, we are still capable of hearing the tiny sound of the music and the background noise of people talking.
I quickly stand up, making the bottom of my dress wet from touching the pool water for not holding it before I stood up.
My friends glance at me, raising their eyebrows, probably wondering what the hell I was doing.
I walk to my small closet behind a hidden door, usually with swimwear that we keep in case we get any visitors or just want to go for a swim so we don’t have to go all the way to the next floor to get it.
I search for three bikinis and three swimsuits in the size that each of us wears.
I leave the closet and lift up the swimwear, aware that I’m being watched.
I hear two extremely familiar laughs and smile.
Both come toward me and take a swimsuit each.
I shrug my shoulders and do the same. I leave the bikinis behind and turn my back to the girls so they can zip down my dress, forming a mountain of fabric around my feet, rapidly putting on the swimsuit.
I run to the pool and jump inside in a not-so-graceful way, making me laugh at myself.
While I feel my body drown and being hugged by the warm water, I let it sink to the bottom, and I sit, mentally counting three minutes.
As soon as that time passes, I feel my lungs burn, and the shortness of breath scream inside me, but I still force myself to stay under for another minute.
My body shouts for air, but I insist. When that minute is finally gone, I unlock my legs and give a push to come back to the surface.
I pull in all the air, and my lungs burn from the time I’ve been without air.
I smile to myself. I like this feeling of affliction, at the edge of losing control, aware that I still have it.
I like the pain. It makes me feel alive, makes me sure I am alive.
I look over to my friends, and both are having a mini swimming competition.
I move toward them and join in. We swim around the poolside for an hour, and as soon as we get tired, we finally stop to stare at each other, bringing a series of giggles due to the extremely smudged makeup.
I lie down above the water and let myself float in the pool.
I look up and smile at the fact that those neon stars that me and my brothers begged my parents to place in the ceiling are still there.
At that time, we wanted to look at the sky even if we were inside the house.
These same stars are a part of the decoration of my room, also filling the ceiling.
The only difference is these are white, and mine are lilac.
My grandad told me that I should choose that color.
When I asked him why, he said to look at the sky.
I noticed a rainbow decorating it, and he asked me what was the last color of the rainbow.
I answered purple, and he said that purple for being the last color, means everlasting love; when I questioned him about why that would make a difference in choosing the color of the stars, he said that he didn’t want me to forget that I am immensely loved, and he would love me even after his death.
Three months later, my grandfather died.
Cancer overcame him, and on his deathbed, he told me he loved me and he always would independently of my decisions.
I didn’t tell anyone about these conversations.
That’s my selfish side. I want to keep these moments for myself.
So when my grandad parted and didn’t allow anyone to remove the stars from the ceiling of my room, despite being redecorated, the same stars are also placed in other houses that belong to the family.
As soon as I arrive in London, I’ll include them in the decor. I can’t just not do it.
We stay in the pool until five. We leave only when noticing that all the guests have left.
I wrap myself in a towel and move toward the exit barefoot, accompanied by my friends.
When I open the door, I see the spoils of the party—the whole first floor is a mess, and the house is incredibly quiet, slowly and avoiding some objects in the way.
I move to the staircase that accesses the next floor.
I say goodbye to my best friends, that already have their own room in the house, and I go to mine.
Just after I go in and close the door, I let the towel drop, lock the door, and undress while walking to the bathroom.
I get in the shower and turn the water, feeling the freezing water touching my skin.
I shiver violently and slowly select a warmer temperature.
I lean on the cold wall, now with water extremely hot running on me, and I shut my eyes, trying to do a sweep of what the first hours of my eighteen years looked like.
It could have been worse, but still not what I wanted.