“What do you mean?”
“You’re not acting like yourself.”
“Why would you say that?”
“You seem sad.”
“Can I not be sad sometimes?” Her face drops, and her brows lower as she sits back against her seat. I think she’s given until she takes another breath to speak.
“If it has something to do with the Scout, you should fix it.” My expression changes into one that I’m sure looks rather irritated. And I am because she has no idea what she’s saying.
“Not everything works out the way we want, Olive.”
“So, you want it to work between you two?”
“What?” I quickly shoot out, emphasizing the word as I shake my head. “I didn’t say that.” I grab the blanket that the flight attendant hands me, not breaking my gaze with Olive.
“You didn’t have to.” She opens her blanket and covers herself up, reclining her seat as she closes her eyes. I clench my jaw, so I don’t say anything else because the unquenchable fury is coming back, and I need to be able to sleep on this plane ride. I have to have my mind completely clear to present well.
The plane begins to take off, and I end up reclining my chair, closing my eyes to block everything out. The problem is, this does nothing for me. Because now I’m thinking about Scout again. I'm picturing her face when I yelled at her, her pleading words and bleary eyes. I hate it. Hate seeing her that way, hate what she’s done to me— to us… if there ever was anus,to begin with.
For the entirety of the flight, I close my eyes, drifting in and out of coherency, but mostly I’m awake, and mostly I’m thinking about Scout. My anger has slowly changed to a sadness I did not know I could feel. Is it possible that everything is meaningless when you lose the one thing you never knew you couldn’t live without?
Can I live without Scout? If I get everything I want out of life, but I don’t have Scout, will I actually be happy?
I don’t have time to answer the questions that inconveniently pop up in my brain as we land. That's usually how it goes, though. Not that I was having some big breakthrough. Just experiencing pain all over again, differently. A different level of gut-wrenchingly devastating that realizes how little control I actually have over everything in my life.
“We should get to the hotel before nightfall. It’s busy in the evenings here. Dinner is around nine or ten.” Olive is giving me the info about both of our home countries like she’s some expert before I’ve even opened my eyes. I let out a yawn as I stand, ignoring her until we make it to the cars. She doesn’t seem to mind, though. She’s content most of the time with just doing her thing. I think she’s only trying to make up for her pushiness when we first took off.
We make it to the hotel like she wanted to, right before the sun fully sets. It’s a nice hotel, one we’ve stayed at before. Mom used to love the view of the ocean from almost every room, and I have a quick memory flash of us sitting at it, pointing out every boat sailing on the horizon together.
Olive wouldn’t even remember that, she was only an infant. So, I keep the thought to myself as we check in and head up to our room. It's a decent suit, not too large, not too small. A kitchen and two bedrooms as well as a small living space towards the back where the windows overlook the Southside of the beach.
From my room, I can see where we’ll meet the elders. The copper tippy-top of a cathedral, deeper into the city. Tomorrow afternoon, everything changes for me, one way or another. I lay back on my bed and continue to stare out the towering windows, wondering what life would be like if I had never met Scout.
Would I even be in Italy now had she not helped make everything come to life? Her contributions were invaluable, and I would be an idiot not to recognize it.
I planned to ask her to come with me to Italy. Thought it would be a good surprise for everything she’s done. Turns out it would have been too generous to give someone who so easily betrayed me.
Time passes, and yet I do not grow tired. I can’t even close my eyes because every thought is tangled up in the memory of Scout. Now I’m even more frustrated than before because even in the midst of absolute loathing, everything that we’ve been through and all that she’s done. With all the lies and manipulation, I cannot shake that I feel something for her. Even now.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” I growl into my pillow as I turn over and force my eyes shut.
The next thing I know, I’ve turned over, and the sun is up. My head hurts, and my eyes are burning. I choose to lay in bed for a few minutes before I check the time. When I realize it’s 11 a.m., I wake up a little more, throwing the covers off myself. Just as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, there’s a knock at my door.
“Come in,” I call as I stand and cross to the bathroom. The door creaks open just as I reach the shower, but it’s silent. “Olive, I don’t have time to waste, I have to meet with the elders in an hour.” I turn on the water and twist around when she’s still silent.
“Hi.”
“What the hell areyoudoing here?” It pains me to speak to anyone this way. But how am I supposed to react when I’m shocked and furious all at once? Scout Summers standing in my hotel room, looking incredible as ever, pains me even more because I can’t have her. Did she ever even want me, or was that a lie too? I grimace at her, waiting for the answer to my question while I have a million others for her.
“I have to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk, Scout.” I begin to close the door, but stop when she calls my name, desperation in her voice.
“Tito, please.”
“Scout, I don’t have time for this. I have to leave soon.”