I’m going to see.” He shook his head. “I can’t really show up with you at my side.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, nodding like I understood. But honestly? I didn’t. All I could think was that there had to be something wrong with me.
Asher was quiet for a few moments, and I tried to sink farther and farther into my seat.
“It’s my ex,” he finally said. “She spent last semester in London and is taking summer classes. When she heard I’d be coming to Europe this summer, she asked me to meet her after classes were over.” He paused, ran his finger along the window. “She wants us to give it another shot.”
“Oh.” I watched him staring out the window, purposefully not looking at me. “Why’d you two break up?”
He turned to look at me then, shaking his head a little. “I don’t know. She dumped me. I never knew why.”
“Wow. How long ago was that?”
“Five months. Right after she left for England.”
“Maybe she didn’t want to do the long distance thing?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “She never said.” He was quiet, then said, “I got the feeling she met someone, but I never asked outright.”
I nodded, thinking. “So, do you want to give it another try?”
He stared at me for a moment. “I thought I did…but I don’t know.” And then he shrugged.
I didn’t ask any more questions.
Walking out of the station in Venice was like entering a completely different world. It was quiet. Like strangely quiet after the bustle of Rome. I mean, there were plenty of people around and you could hear the chugging of motor boats, but there were no cars, no horns beeping, no crazy traffic. Water spread out all around us, and boats passed by, making small greenish waves.
We hopped on a vaporetto , a bus boat, that took us to St. Mark’s square. We had to hurry past the gorgeous, Eastern-style church with its really cool onion domes because we needed to make sure we had a place to sleep, and it was late in the day.
We went straight to the hostel and managed to reserve beds in the dorms. Then we headed back out to wander and get some dinner at a little café we found not far away.
It was perfect—watching the sun set over the burnt orange roofs of Venice (of VENICE!), the city turning a deep amber in the fading light. The buildings were more colorful than in Rome—orange, red, pink, yellow, and cream. And lots of green shutters. (What was it about the colors in Europe? They seemed richer, deeper somehow.)
We sat and talked while tourists and locals meandered about. Life here felt slow. I liked that. And it was exactly what I needed, today especially. To be soothed by the relaxed pace and the lapping sounds of the water. I was a tangle of conflicting emotions. I’d texted Paige on the train, and let my mom know that I was still alive. I was not up for talking with her today of all days—the wedding day—so my phone was turned off. Again.
Paige’s texts had made me smile, though.
ME: Herein lies my daily text to prove I’m Not Dead Yet.
PAIGE: Wow. Italy makes you talk funny.
ME: Pasta! Pizza! Gelato! Spaghetti!
PAIGE: I see your Italian has improved.
ME: Grazie! (I’m sure there’s a phrase for that in Italian. There are all SORTS of words in this language, too.)
PAIGE: Hahaha. I’m glad you’re there. Especially Today.
ME: Me, too. A thousands times over.
And I was. I was so happy to be in Italy and far, FAR away from the scene of what my mother considered to be my Greatest Disappointment Ever. I’m sure that’s what she was calling it by now. If I hadn’t left, I would have already been pronounced Mrs. Blaine Thompson, the thought of which actually made me shudder. Blaine had wanted me to take his last name and I’d wanted to keep my own. Between him and my mother—I don’t know why she cared, but she’d argued heavily for his name—I’d finally given in and agreed to take his…just to get them to leave me alone.
Honestly, I felt as if I’d escaped a life
“Oh, okay,” I said, nodding like I understood. But honestly? I didn’t. All I could think was that there had to be something wrong with me.
Asher was quiet for a few moments, and I tried to sink farther and farther into my seat.
“It’s my ex,” he finally said. “She spent last semester in London and is taking summer classes. When she heard I’d be coming to Europe this summer, she asked me to meet her after classes were over.” He paused, ran his finger along the window. “She wants us to give it another shot.”
“Oh.” I watched him staring out the window, purposefully not looking at me. “Why’d you two break up?”
He turned to look at me then, shaking his head a little. “I don’t know. She dumped me. I never knew why.”
“Wow. How long ago was that?”
“Five months. Right after she left for England.”
“Maybe she didn’t want to do the long distance thing?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “She never said.” He was quiet, then said, “I got the feeling she met someone, but I never asked outright.”
I nodded, thinking. “So, do you want to give it another try?”
He stared at me for a moment. “I thought I did…but I don’t know.” And then he shrugged.
I didn’t ask any more questions.
Walking out of the station in Venice was like entering a completely different world. It was quiet. Like strangely quiet after the bustle of Rome. I mean, there were plenty of people around and you could hear the chugging of motor boats, but there were no cars, no horns beeping, no crazy traffic. Water spread out all around us, and boats passed by, making small greenish waves.
We hopped on a vaporetto , a bus boat, that took us to St. Mark’s square. We had to hurry past the gorgeous, Eastern-style church with its really cool onion domes because we needed to make sure we had a place to sleep, and it was late in the day.
We went straight to the hostel and managed to reserve beds in the dorms. Then we headed back out to wander and get some dinner at a little café we found not far away.
It was perfect—watching the sun set over the burnt orange roofs of Venice (of VENICE!), the city turning a deep amber in the fading light. The buildings were more colorful than in Rome—orange, red, pink, yellow, and cream. And lots of green shutters. (What was it about the colors in Europe? They seemed richer, deeper somehow.)
We sat and talked while tourists and locals meandered about. Life here felt slow. I liked that. And it was exactly what I needed, today especially. To be soothed by the relaxed pace and the lapping sounds of the water. I was a tangle of conflicting emotions. I’d texted Paige on the train, and let my mom know that I was still alive. I was not up for talking with her today of all days—the wedding day—so my phone was turned off. Again.
Paige’s texts had made me smile, though.
ME: Herein lies my daily text to prove I’m Not Dead Yet.
PAIGE: Wow. Italy makes you talk funny.
ME: Pasta! Pizza! Gelato! Spaghetti!
PAIGE: I see your Italian has improved.
ME: Grazie! (I’m sure there’s a phrase for that in Italian. There are all SORTS of words in this language, too.)
PAIGE: Hahaha. I’m glad you’re there. Especially Today.
ME: Me, too. A thousands times over.
And I was. I was so happy to be in Italy and far, FAR away from the scene of what my mother considered to be my Greatest Disappointment Ever. I’m sure that’s what she was calling it by now. If I hadn’t left, I would have already been pronounced Mrs. Blaine Thompson, the thought of which actually made me shudder. Blaine had wanted me to take his last name and I’d wanted to keep my own. Between him and my mother—I don’t know why she cared, but she’d argued heavily for his name—I’d finally given in and agreed to take his…just to get them to leave me alone.
Honestly, I felt as if I’d escaped a life
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