A Veil of Glass and Rain (2 page)

she was crying and breathless; I remember

that only one girl, the sister of David, Eagan's

best friend, was glaring disdainfully at all of

us.

I noticed Eagan's shadow painted on the sand,

before I saw him. And before I could turn

around and talk, he grabbed me, lifted me and

then he threw me in the water. It was frigid.

My words of protest became a startled gasp,

my legs and arms moved frantically, trying to

get warm. Eagan seized me and hurled me in

the water again, and then again.

I emerged and managed to shriek, “Stop it!”

He did. While I shivered in the ocean, he

observed me with his arms crossed and a

serious face. He was wearing yellow trunks,

the water grazed his knees, but he didn't seem

affected by the cold. Right then, I envied and

detested his strength.

“Are you done?” I spurted.

“Yes,” he said. “Lets swim.”

He dove, went under, and then reappeared

quiet far from me. Eagan was a great

swimmer, and he adored being in the water. As

I waded toward him, I saw the tension abandon

his features, I saw his smile spread, I saw his

twinkling blue eyes. The water, that loved him

in return, stroked is muscles, defining them,

shaping him into an ancient Greek statue, that

the ocean full of memories remembered from

the past.

I kept a little distance between us, panting,

trying to stay afloat.

“Are you still mad at me?” He asked.

“No,” I answered. “Are going to throw me

again?” I added, with a small smile.

He grinned. “No.” Then he pulled me to

him.

Instinctively I wrapped my arms around his

neck and my legs around his waist. His arms

encircled me, a warm cradle of velvet and

steel.

“Sorry about the throwing thing. I wanted

your undivided attention,” he explained.

I hid my face in his strong neck. “No need

for that. You're all I've been thinking about.”

He squeezed me. “I missed you, kitty-cat.”

I drew back a little to look at him. I let my

gaze caress his bright blue eyes, his dark-blond

hair, and his stubbly jaw. “You need a shave,“

I told him.

Eagan disentangled one of his arms from our

embrace and gently traced his fingertip along

my upper lip, where I knew a sparse layer of

fine hair could be seen.

I was just beginning to discover razors and

waxing; being a brunette, my hair was more

evident.

“You need a shave, too,” he teased.

I tried to push him away, but his arm went

around me again, and his hold tightened. I

trembled, but I was not sure the cold water

was to blame.

“Lets get back,” he said.

That summer he changed my nickname. I

used to be “fur-ball”, because of my

Mediterranean girl status. But as I began to

wax and shave, he started calling me “kitty-

cat”; it was gentler and I adored it. For me

he'd always been, and would always be, my

“good giant”; because he was tall and because

he protected me.

Eagan had brought towels. They were

waiting for us on the shore; one purple, and

two yellow. He wrapped the purple one around

me, he used one of the yellow ones to towel

off, and placed the other one onto the sand, so

we could sit.

“Why did you hurt Ines like that, Eagan?” I

kept my eyes focused on the black and white

lighthouse. I felt Eagan's gaze on me as he

answered.

“I didn't really mean to. Things haven't been

right between us for a while. I wanted to end

it. She wanted to keep trying.”

“So you cheated on her?”

“Yes, to send her a message.”

“Instead of talking?”

“Actions speak louder than words.”

“That's cruel and kind of immature.” As we

talked, I kept staring at the lighthouse, and he

kept looking at me.

“What can I say? I'm 18, and when I think, I

rarely use my head.”

At that I smiled, and I finally gazed at him.

He smiled back.

“I'm glad you and Ines are friends. But what

you and I have, is more important and stronger

than anything else. You are my best friend, my

family. And you should always have my back.”

I flinched. His words hurt me. “I
have
your

back.”

He probably noticed my expression, for he

reached out and brushed my cheek with the

back of his fingers.

“I know, Brina,” he said, his tone more

tender. “It's okay for you to be angry at me if I

mess up. And you have to yell at me. That is

fine. Not talking to me, avoiding me, denying

me you, that is not fine.”

I nodded. “Sorry about that. It wasn't very

mature of me.”

“You're 13. You're allowed to be immature,”

he said.

I winced.

“That was a joke,” he added.

Then he whispered a kiss across my temple,

and reclined on the towel. He brushed his hand

across the small of my back. It was a soothing

touch, and I sensed it all over my body. I

returned my gaze to the lighthouse.

“I love you, kitty-cat,” came Eagan's voice

from behind me.

“I love you too, good giant,” I told him, but

my eyes remained averted.

I was thirteen and he was eighteen, and

things were beginning to slowly change

between us; but I was the one who broke

everything.

We spent the entire day together, just the two

of us. It was heaven. At night we went to a

concert in the town main square. Various

groups played, and then a girl with short blond

hair took the stage. It was just her and her

guitar. She was magnetic and intense. I

couldn't stop staring at her fingers caressing

the strings. She made her guitar sing, and

moan and cry. It was beautiful.

When I looked up at Eagan, he was grinning.

“You're bewitched,” he said.

I was. I wanted to be that girl on the stage

with her guitar. I wanted to be an enchantress

of souls.

The following day I spotted Eagan with the

girl he betrayed Ines with, and my heart broke

a little bit. Mina was with me and she

suggested we take off and search for our own

adventure. We found on the internet an

international language school that organized

summer courses. We chose an advanced

English course in Canterbury, which was about

to start. Our parents were proud and happy.

Mina's in particular, because they both worked

for the European Parliament, therefore they

spoke various languages.

A few days later we were all packed and

ready to leave. As a parting gift, Eagan gave

me a blue classical guitar.

“I can't accept it,” I protested.

“Why not?”

“Because it's too much and I can't even play

it!”“You can learn. You break my heart if you

don't take it, kitty-cat,” he insisted.

So I accepted his gift.

Eagan has always been an affectionate guy.

He often uses warm hugs, gentle caresses and

generous gestures to express his feelings.

A couple of years earlier, when I was eleven

and he was sixteen, we went to Rome on

vacation. That was when we both began to use

words, and not only actions, to declare how we

felt about each other, about our families, and

our closest friends.

The cause was an encounter, during an

excursion to the Colosseum, with an American

screenwriter. He was old, as wrinkled as a tree

trunk, and full of vigor.

While talking to our parents, he admitted

that he favored movies where the characters

manifested their feelings with actions, and

never said “I love you”, but used alternatives

such as “I see you”, or “I feel you”.

Knowing how much our families enjoyed

being original and unconventional, we

expected to see the phrase, “I love you”,

almost banished. So we decided to make it our

own.

When the tour-guide left us free to explore,

we stood for a long while in front of the

Colosseum, mesmerized. Our faces were lifted

up, up toward the sky.

Eagan broke our astonished silence. “I read

on the internet that the Roman arch is the

strongest construction ever invented.”

Staring at that eternal stone giant with all

its arches, which resembled eyes, that had

witnessed wars and revolutions and human

cruelty, I had no trouble believing it; despite

all that, the Colosseum was still standing,

strong and proud. Right there I knew I wanted,

one day, to live in Rome, because it was

protected by a construction that could bare

the weight of the world.

“I love you, Eagan,” I said, my voice full of

wonder and delight.

“I love you too, fur-ball,” Eagan said back.

My trip to Canterbury with Mina was supposed

to be amusing. I was supposed to be

independent, free and all grown-up. None of

that happened. Mina, in the end, did not

accompany with me, due to family troubles. I

stayed because I wanted to be brave.

In truth, life forced me to be brave all year

long, because my parents were often abroad

working, and Eagan lived in the United States,

while I resided in Italy. Summer was the time

when I could have the people I loved the most

with me, and I was missing it. I regretted my

choice terribly.

The English teachers were good, the dorm

was cozy, and the other kids were nice; but

they were not what I wanted. I held on for a

week, then I crumbled.

While in the room next to mine some girls

sang and laughed, I took my lap-top and looked

for Eagan on-line. He was there. He was

waiting for me. And he was upset.

“Why are you mad?” I asked his face on the

screen.

“It's been a week, Brina. No emails. No

texts. Nothing.”

“I wrote an email to my dad,” I said

defensively.

“What about me? I heard Mina did not make

it. You're there, alone. Why did you turn off

your cellphone?”

“I don't know,” I said and stared at the

keyboard, which suddenly seemed very

interesting.

“Of course you know,” Eagan's voice

snapped.

“I wanted to do this on my own.”

“You do everything on your own almost all

year long. Summer is our time,” he said in a

softer tone.

“I know. Will you come and get me?”

“I'll be there tomorrow.”

I glanced up and Eagan smiled at me. I

smiled back.

He was staying with his grandparents, who

lived in the city of Bath, so coming to get me

in Canterbury was easy. But I knew he would

have come even if he were on the other side of

the world.

We met the next afternoon in the city main

square. I saw him before he could notice me.

He was admiring the Cathedral and the people

working to restore the façade. A group of girls

was openly ogling his ass. Eagan did not mind

them, or better he pretended not to, because I

saw his cocky grin as I approached him.

“You already have a fan-club,” I said.

“Hey, kitty-cat!” He took my baggage from

me, leaning in to kiss my temple. Then he

turned to the Cathedral.

“I think I know what I want to do with my

life,” he said after a moment.

I followed his gaze. “You want to fix

monuments?”

“Yes, I want to make things good again.”

I reached for his hand and took it. He

squeezed my fingers.

The memories I collected during the days I

spent with Eagan and his grandparents, Peter

and Beth, are all tinted with warmth and

kindness.

During the day we visited the Roman baths,

the Abbey, and the city main streets, while the

evenings were spent preparing meals, talking

and listening to jazz and blues tunes.

After dinner, while Eagan helped Beth

cleaning, I explored the immense library. I

chose a different book every night, and Peter

kept me silent company, even as he read the

newspaper. Only once he interrupted my

reading, for he wanted to tell me his own

story. He and Beth used to teach art. In the

beginning they were part-time teachers, and

they lived in a small house. Then, after the

birth of Eagan's mother, Bea, they decided to

search for a more spacious home and full-time