We're leaving. Marlena is cleaning the kitchen, helped by my dad. Mom is packing upstairs with the kids. EJ is on the phone, barking at employees. I feel a mixture of quiet excitement and some sort of instantaneous nostalgia. Things will never feel like this again, the sweetness healing the pain, the despair and self-doubts becoming a surprising kindling for our love story. The fire is burning now, inside me, while the one in the chimney has been muffled until the next year. Will Sonny be there, then? Will the ecstasy be intact? He hasn't left my side, helping me collect my luggage, kissing my neck when no one is looking, making me feel alive.
I live in reality, safe in my sensibility and pragmatism. And yet my superstitious mind warns me not to lose his sight as if he could disappear in the ether, like a shadow. I have come to know him, I have felt him deep inside, but he remains a mystery, all his thoughts hiding in the elusive azure of his eyes. My arms wrap around his body, creating a haven that can't last. I'm clinging to the illusion that it can, that he'll be protected from his sadness if I watch him at all times. Truth is, now that he's better and I don't have to comfort him, now that he looks happier and free, I am terrified. Because this light that shines from him is beautiful and precious and so fragile and I want it to last, forever.
There's EJ and mom's car, filled with kids and mom's enormous luggage. There's Marlena's who's staying a little longer to check with the maid who'll keep the place in order till Easter. And there's Dad who's ill-at-ease around Sonny. He does try but I can almost see the sweat on his forehead. So who are we riding with?
I ask Sonny and he looks thoughtful. Then he smiles, mischievous "We could go and board a train, or a plane... Or even ask my uncle Victor to send his helicopter..." I laugh but I don't want that. I need to feel close to someone in my family for a little while longer. With Sonny next to me, of course.
He's chosen Lucas. I like how he takes charge at times, unconsciously confident. And his father has gone a long way already. Plus, he's leaving soon, on a business trip so Will needs a little time with him. I decide to be quiet, ready to help matters if needed, but not be on a quest to win Lucas' approval.
When we tell her, I spot a spark in Sami's eyes, something like deep regret. I don't think Will has seen it, he's looking halfway in my direction. But he's braver each time they talk. His tone is final and I see her stiffen. She must dislike orders and directions. He's so different from her, so reserved and I don't know yet what comes from his character and what comes from his parents' neglect. I want to be given his autobiography, or even have it downloaded in my brain, so that I understand and know how to act best.
Instead I'll wait for him to slowly open up. And in the meantime I'll just love him.
I've been given control of what music we listen to during the drive. I guess it's dad's way of getting me to use the front seat. So I alternate, choosing meaningful, serene songs to fill the car with peacefulness, then at the next stop, sitting in the back and merging with Sonny, losing the sense of my body's limits as I cuddle in his arms. All through it I talk with Lucas. About school, about his work, about my sister. Our discussion flies above the deep muddy waters of our troubled relationship, barely brushing it with the wing of a remark, the dimple of a sharp tone, that he quickly corrects. Sonny is a silent guardian, smiling gently but correcting when we derail. I appreciate, I don't want this ride to be a confrontation, even a beneficial one. I want to part with dad on good terms, feel like his son again.
I drive for a while too, when I see dad nodding on the wheel. And Sonny starts talking. About jet-lag and plane travel versus road trips. He's caught up on the lightness and lets pauses linger on. Dad falls asleep and I watch the road ahead, only visible for a few feet, and the dark behind, full of unknown and dangers. But I have to grow and drive on, become an adult somehow. I hope that Sonny stays.
They let me at my uncle's mansion. My mother is here, sleeping in her room. I'll ask for my arrival to be kept silent for the moment. Will kisses me for so long that I lose my footing. Then he leaves with his dad, the car's red lights getting smaller and dimmer. This is it, the threshold. Now I'm not his crutch anymore, I'm just his boyfriend. It's full of promises of laugh and pleasures. Yet it's also uncertain and fraught with precipices, like the ones in my memory, that lured him to the sea.
I enter the silent, familiar house, dreaming of the day he'll come in with me, to two welcoming parents, maybe even for the longest run...