Through Her Eyes (8 page)

I walk into the bar and let my eyes scan the room.
Guess he’s late
. I settle myself onto a stool to wait for the bartender to approach. My eyes land on a beautiful long mane of platinum blonde hair, but not out-of-a-bottle platinum. More like the perfect shade of a Swedish model. She throws her head back in a laugh, and I can see her hand run down an arm in front of her. As I watch her, she leans to the left to get the bartender’s attention, and I get a perfect view of her companion.

There he is. The only sense of normalcy I’ve had since my life fell apart, my little glimmer of hope for a light evening . . .ruined.

Scenarios start to play out in my brain. He hasn’t noticed me yet, too wrapped up in the goddess standing in front of him, and to be honest I don’t blame him. The closer I walk toward them, the more beautiful she becomes. As she leans across the bar, I can see she isn’t leaving anything to the imagination. Her full, perfect breasts peek out seductively from the short spaghetti strap dress she’s in.

Maybe . . .

She’s his sister?

His cousin?

His wife?

Holy shit, he has a wife, and I didn’t know. My brain goes into overdrive. My movements have completely stopped. I’m stuck, frozen in place.
Move Goddamn it
. But all the synapses in my brain are rendered useless.

I think I’m going to be sick.
Oh Goddamn it, Aria.
What the hell are you doing?

You’re just friends with him.

You’re not attracted to him.

You’re here to find yourself something different to do.

Not fall in love.

Fuck! Who said anything about love?

I have to either move my stupid feet and say hi, or I need to turn around and walk away, but I refuse to be the schmuck standing with my mouth gaping, eyes big like a dear in headlights.

My feet make the choice for me as they continue their path. My mind quickly catches up. Even though we’re just friends, I’m not going to let him off that easy. If he’s married, he should have told me. If he isn’t, what the hell is he doing inviting another girl to our date . . . I mean drinks . . . I mean,
shit
, I don’t know what I mean. With each step, I know what I want. I want to hear from him that he’s a lying, cheating . . .

Oh shit
, he sees me. I’m not ready to confront him. I haven’t figured out what to say to him yet.

Shit.
He’s coming over . . .

This is getting worse and worse because I’m pretty sure my mouth is now hanging agape.

“Hey, Princess, you’re a bit early.”

“And here I thought this is the time we agreed upon. Funny, I also don’t remember you saying I was the second appointment for the day . . . or am I just the tag along? Oh, and one more thing: stop calling me
Princess
.”

“I missed your smart mouth.”

“Oh, save it. Well, I’ll be going now. I hate to intrude on whatever you’ve got going on over there.”

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I’m certainly not jealous. What in the world would I be jealous about? We aren’t romantically involved. I just thought it would be fun to see the sights with someone else. You know what, forget it. Go have fun with your—”

“She’s just a model I know.”
Geez, that makes me feel so much better. Kill me now.
I can’t stop my face from going slack and my cheeks from turning a shade of crimson I’m certain is only present in Hell—where I want to send him right now.

“What I mean is I was meeting with her to see if she’s able to work on my next project, but now that’s a moot point.”

“Why’s that?”

“My vision has gone in a new direction. I won’t be needing a model after all.” He lifts his left brow, making his eyes appear larger. They twinkle at me as if I’m supposed to be privy to his new ‘direction,’ which I’m obviously not since he doesn’t elaborate.

“Um, okay.”

“I’ll tell you my vision later.”

“Cryptic much?”

“You have no idea.” And there it is—his signature smirk followed by the wink I’d started to miss in his absence.

Going to hell. Get your head in the game and stop fantasizing about his smirk and wink.

“Earth to Ari.”

“Can you not call me, Ari, please? Aria is fine. Just not Ari.”

“Oh, sorry. I just—” He stops himself and shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he thinks for a moment. “So, how about I lose the model and we go see Rome?” The pitch of his voice rises with hope.

“Sounds perfect,” He stares at me with his eyes gleaming brightly.

“Okay, give me a second.” Then he turns and walks off.

I venture over to the bar but I don’t have time to sit down before he returns.

“Wow, that was fast.”

“I don’t want to miss a second of my time with you.” Somehow I go from wanting to murder him to wanting to melt into a puddle and swoon. I shake my head and roll my eyes.

“Flattery will get you everywhere. Next gelato is on me.” I smile, and I’m met with his. His earth-shattering smile.

Dear lord, if he keeps doing that I might combust right here in the hotel bar.
Head in the game, Ari.
Ari
. . . no one has called me that since the last time Parker did. That’s his nickname for me. I bite my cheek at the memory, and as if Chase can discern that I need a life raft, he throws one at me, in the way of a perfect segue.

“The next gelato is on you? Well, let’s get me some, woman. But first let’s stop at the Trevi Fountain.” He beats his hand across his chest, making some ridiculous sound, and it’s just what I need.

“Lead the way.” I giggle.

“Throw a penny in the fountain and wish to return to Rome,” Chase says, and I look up at him, perplexed.

“Isn’t that cheating? Shouldn’t it be a secret what I wish?”

“I guess you can be greedy and throw two in, but whatever,” he chides.

“It’s cheating. Maybe I don’t want to come back? Ever think of that?” I tease back.

“Is that true?” He gives me a look like I killed his puppy.

“No.” My eyes roll.

I position myself and throw the penny into the beautiful cascading pools that Neptune, God of the Sea, the mermen, and seahorses preside over.

“Stop!” he orders. “You’re doing it all wrong.”

“Oh my God, Chase. There’s a right way to throw a coin?”

“Why, yes. Actually, there is.” My eyes enlarge at this discovery.

“Wait, really? This I got to hear.”

“Okay. The belief is if you throw a coin using your right hand over the left shoulder, you will be assured a return trip to the Eternal City of Rome. That’s the way it’s done.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I’ll throw it however I want.” I stick my tongue out at him. I’m acting like I’m five years old, but it’s okay because this banter makes me feel young and carefree, and I like it.

“Why do you have to be such a pain in the ass, Princess?” he says as I toss the penny in. My aim is so bad it actually bounces off the lip of the fountain wall, which then causes it to fly back at us, landing at my foot.

“Guess the fountain decided for you. You’re not welcome back in Rome.” He laughs.
Ass.

“That’s bullshit. Where to next?” I say in a huff.

“Well, you still owe me some gelato.”

“Good plan. I could go for something sweet.”

“There is a great little place by the Fontana della Barcaccia.”

“Fine, lead the way.” He shakes his head, takes my hand, and pulls me in the correct direction.

Five minutes later, Chase pulls me into a small boutique. It’s a mish mash of gifts for children and adults. The perfect souvenir shop. I move about the store and peer over at Chase who’s trying on straw fedoras. I can see him taking in his appearance in the mirror. His lip twitches, and a dimple forms.

“Looking good, Chase.” My voice cracks trying to hold back the laughter that wants to erupt.

“Right? Totally my look.” It really is his look, but making fun of him is so much more fun.

“Yeah, I think it would look perfect on you paired with that sarong over there?” I point to the hangers that hold an array of colored and beaded dresses. I’m unsuccessful at holding back my amusement, and my lips turn up.

“Oh, shut it, Princess. I know I look good.” He waves me off and reaches for another hat. This one has a neon pink ribbon, and I burst into a fit of hysterics as he begins to model his new look. He continues to rummage through the bin and then his eyes widen and I wonder what has him so perplexed. When he pulls out a pair of lace bunny ears, I understand completely.

“Why would anyone buy these? They’re ridiculous,” he says as he places them down and walks over to the other side of the store. I know that they’re the perfect purchase. Chase is going to die when he sees it. I bite back a smile and walk over to the counter to buy them before he notices.
This is going to be fun.

A little while later after hitting up a few more gift shops, we finally make it to the gelato stand. We have a perfect view of the Fontana and the Spanish Steps. My eye catches on the shape of the Fontana. It resembles a sinking ship, and it fascinates me. I remember an old legend Parker once told me when we discussed traveling to Rome. It stated that the ship was carried all the way to this exact spot during a massive flood. As I recall this old folktale, I can’t help but think of the parallels with my own life. I too have been swept to Rome during a storm.

“Since I doubt you ever had gelato as a kid, what was your favorite ice cream?” As I try to recall what my favorite flavor was, a memory stops me dead in my tracks.

Owen and I were at the beach, the water stretched out for miles. We had spent countless days there that summer, Owen, Park and myself. Today was different, though. Parker was out with his family, and it was just the two of us. We were bored and had ridden our bikes there to pass the time. There was something frightening and ominous about the ocean on that particular day. There was nothing on the horizon, just blank, empty space. Endless ripples of uninhabited water. I should have known. But at twelve, I thought I was a good swimmer. I thought I was invincible.

There was no lifeguard patrolling that part of the beach. It was privately owned and was practically empty. A family playing Frisbee was our only company for a mile up the beach. There was not even a warning flag to enter at your own risk. Owen said we shouldn’t go swimming. He thought the undertow seemed strong. I sat restlessly, the water beckon to me. It spoke to me, and I answered.

Within a few minutes, I realized I’d made a huge mistake. I started to choke on the water first. My arms fatigued quickly as I pushed against the tide. I remember screaming Owen’s name. I remember the frantic feeling of becoming weightless. I remember the world becoming darker. I remember staring up to the sky one last time and seeing the clouds above me as my vision started to become speckled. Later, I was told I had passed out.

I found out Owen jumped in after me, and much later, I found out what pain really was. I found out what it meant to lose a part of yourself. When another swimmer jumped in to help, Owen passed me off to him. I learned that as the stranger was saving me, no one was left to save Owen.

I learned what hate was . . . because I hated myself.

The worst day of my life. The day we buried Owen.

I watched as my older brother was placed into a wooden box for all of eternity. My heart was hollow. One minute, I was admiring the beauty of the ocean, the next it was stealing something so precious from me. No words could ever describe the anguish I felt. It was my fault. He was in the water because of me. I hadn’t spoken since he drowned five days ago. Not one word. What was the point? What could I say? Nothing would bring him back. Nothing would wake me from this nightmare
.

“Ari? Can you hear me, Ari?” Parker lifted the blanket from my head.

“I think you need to come out. Can you do that for me?” As the blanket was pulled fully off of me, our eyes met. His were red-rimmed and swollen. His teeth gently bit at his lip.

“Come here,” he said as he lifted me by my arms and pulled me into his embrace. In his arms, I finally let go. My body was wracked by sobs.

Owen was dead.

Owen was dead.

The words replayed. I’m lost. I can’t find my way.

It was my fault. It was entirely my fault.

If I hadn’t gone swimming. If I was a better swimmer. If I’d only listened.

I felt him wrap me tighter in his arms.

They held me.

They comforted me.

They guided me.

He was my gravity. He brought me back to him. His arms brought me home. He tethered my soul to his and grounded me. As I lay in Parker’s arms, he brought me back to myself. He held me until all the tears in my body dried up. I rubbed the tears from my eyes, and breathed a choked sigh. “You’re okay, Ari. You’ll be okay. What can I do to make you happy, to make you smile?” And then he repeated what he’d said the first day I met him. “I could get you ice cream?” Our eyes met, and I finally spoke.

“Okay.”