A Veil of Glass and Rain (4 page)

we argued once more. And I yielded another

shred of my heart.

That summer, with our families, we went on

a special cruise. The journey started in Moscow

and ended in Saint Petersburg. Though I

enjoyed the Russian capital and all the small

villages we visited when the boat stopped,

what I really wanted to see was Saint

Petersburg, because of the Hermitage, the

Palaces, and the bridges that at night, like

well attuned instruments of an orchestra, split

in two and raise, to let the ships through.

That summer Mina and her family were with

us again, and so were David, Eagan's best

friend, his younger sister Felia and their

parents.

Felia was my age, but she was rather shy,

and didn't spend much time with all of us,

including her brother. That is why what

happened during that special vacation

surprised me so much.

Both Eagan and David were expansive and

affectionate. They treated Mina and me as

buddies. And it wasn't rare to receive from

them a hug or a gentle brush of fingers on our

cheeks, when we looked sad or disappointed

for small or big reasons. We were daughters of

often absent parents devoted to their jobs,

therefore those attentions were precious and

comforting. They made us feel accepted.

When Eagan and David were with us, I could

see my joy reflected in Mina's eyes, as if we

were each other mirror images.

But then one night, when the boat was

about to approach Saint Petersburg, our

families asked all of us to meet for an early

dinner. Because of the shower malfunctioning

in our cabin, Mina and I arrived later than the

others to the restaurant.

During the entire dinner I remember feeling

the boat engines trembling beneath my feet; I

remember David scowling at his sister and his

parents; I remember the closed expression on

Eagan's face.

Our parents tried to make small, cheerful

talk, but the tension was heavy and

unbearable. My stomach lurched and refused

any kind of food.

Back in our cabin, Mina and I sat on our beds

in silence for a long while.

“That was weird. What do you think

happened?” She finally said.

“I don't know. I need to talk to Eagan,” I

told her.

“Sure. Go.”

As I stood to leave, she gave me a reassuring

smile.

I knocked on the door of Eagan's cabin, then I

waited. The door opened after a long moment.

David gave me a tired smile. “Hey, Brina.

He's not here.”

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Somewhere brooding, I guess.” David

looked up and scowled at the ceiling.

“What happened, David?”

He invited me in and told me the entire

story. In the end, it turned out to be a silly

event blown out of proportions.

Felia, David's sister, had developed a little

crush on Eagan. She had written him a love

letter, which Eagan read and then discussed

about with David. Then the two guys tried to

talk to Felia and make her understand that

Eagan was an expansive and friendly kind of

person with everyone, especially his friends

and family, but it didn't mean anything more

than that.

Felia, as any teenage girl would, got mad at

Eagan for showing the letter to David, and got

mad at them both for minimizing her feelings.

David talked to his parents. They tried to

explain to their daughter how Eagan's attitude

toward the world worked. Felia remained

upset, so her parents told Eagan that he had to

change is general behavior, because it could

lead to misunderstandings.

All this happened during the day. The boat

had stopped for supplies at a small village. My

parents and Mina's had spent the day taking

pictures; Mina and I visiting the village

museum with Bea and Arthur, Eagan's parents.

And Felia, apparently, had spent the day with

Eagan and David.

“I'm sure Eagan is going to beat himself up

and try to change his attitude toward

everyone,” concluded David.

“You know him well,” I told him.

He smiled briefly, then his expression

turned solemn. “Brina, just like my over-

sensitive best friend, I'm a very friendly

person.” He paused to take a deep breath. “I

need to know...do you have a crush on me?”

“No,” I answered.

“Thank goodness!” He sighed theatrically.

Despite my sadness, I laughed.

“Go talk to him. He needs you. He won't

listen to me,” David said, his face serious once

more.

I went.

Eagan didn't need me, or he didn't want to

need me.

I found him on the upper deck. He was

staring at the dark water, his arms crossed on

the railing, his face shattered.

I approached him carefully. “Eagan?”

He didn't turn to look at me. “I need to be

alone,” he muttered.

“Daniel told me.” My voice was so small,

that it melted into the night, among the

sounds produced by the water and the boat

engines, but he heard it.

“And?”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I tried to

speak louder.

His jaw tensed. “Your English needs some

improving. I'm pretty sure I just asked to be

left alone,” he barked out.

His words weren't important; it was a silly

joke. But his tone was hard. I tried not to mind

too much, because I knew he was upset. I

could take it. He needed me to be there for

him.

I touched his arm with hesitant fingers, but

he flinched and recoiled, as if I had burned

him. I stumbled backward and grabbed at the

railing for support. I was sure a punch in the

stomach would have hurt less. But I didn't

leave. I waited for softer words, for kinder

eyes, I waited for my good giant to come back

to me.

He didn't. He didn't really need me. So I

left.

The three days in Saint Petersburg were

supposed to be the climax of my vacation, but

the distance that Eagan had placed between us

crushed me.

I followed our group through the enormous

hallways of the Hermitage in a daze. Eagan

and David weren't with us; it was fine with me,

considering I couldn't bare looking at his cold

and closed expression.

At some point during the visit, my legs just

stopped moving and I found myself staring at a

painting, without really seeing it. A gentle

hand on my shoulder brought me back to

reality. It was Bea, Eagan's mum. I glanced up

at her, and met bright blue eyes, and my best

friend's easy smile. My delicate heart

splintered and I almost wept, because I craved

that smile.

“Lets get out of here. I want to do some gift

searching.”

Bea hated shopping, I knew, and I felt

grateful she wanted to cheer me up.

We walked aimlessly down the large streets

of Saint Petersburg for hours. We were silent

at first. Eventually, she spoke.

“My son has known David's family for years.

Regardless, what they told him was out of line.

Eagan's expansiveness is one of his best traits.”

I just nodded, for I still didn't trust my voice

not to break.

“But Eagan, just like his dad, is also over-

sensitive,” she continued.

I nodded again, without looking at her; the

Russian pavements seemed like a safe place

for my misty eyes to focus on.

“Give him three days. If he doesn't come

back to you after three days, then you can get

mad. Really mad.”

I finally gazed at her. “Why three days?”

She smiled and my heart leaped. “You know

why.”

I remained thoughtful for a few moments,

then it came to me. The previous summer,

when we went to the Lighthouse Island, I'd

gotten upset and Eagan had given me three

days to brood, before losing his patience.

I managed a small grin. “Agreed.”

During the three days I conceded Eagan, I

watched him joke with David, go out at night

with other kids their age, and drawing on his

sketchbook the Palaces and the impressive

bridges at night. He appeared to be blithe. In a

way I was glad, but it also made me sort of

sad, because evidently he could go on without

me, while I felt empty and broken without

him.

There was also an unknown ache deep inside

me, that kept me awake at night. It was at

once painful and sensual, and it emerged

within my core each time I thought about my

best friend. It was an unfamiliar stirring that I

feared, but that I also welcomed.

The three days passed, but Eagan didn't

come back to me; so I got mad, really mad.

Soon after our Russian vacation my parents

traveled to Africa, to do some research and

preparatory work for a photo-book project.

Bea and Arthur went somewhere in Eastern

Europe for a project of their own. I didn't

know, and didn't ask about Eagan's plans after

our ruined vacation. I just returned home.

At the time my family resided in Turin.

Torino
, or Turin, is a fascinating city

located in the northern part of Italy. It flaunts

one of the biggest and most beautiful squares

in Europe, and a considerable museum of

cinema. But Turin is also a rainy and gloomy

place.

Although it was still summer when I arrived,

I was met by a drizzle so thick, it seemed like

the entire city was hidden behind an

impenetrable curtain. It perfectly matched my

mood, but coming from an unexpectedly warm

Russia, my body didn't accept well the

temperature abrupt change. After my first

night home, I woke up weak and feverish.

I took an aspirin and placed a stack of

Kleenex on the coffee table. After I collapsed

onto the couch, I buried my trembly limbs

under a mountain of blankets.

We lived in a two-story house; I didn't have

the strength to climb the stairs that led to my

room. Besides, in the den I had a TV and a DVD

player to keep me company. On my second day

home, I felt so sick I didn't even have the

energy to cook myself a meal. The lady who

took care of me and the house when my

parents worked abroad, was still on vacation. I

didn't want to worry my parents, who were far

away. So I called Bea and Arthur, who were in

Europe, therefore closer.

After our phone-call I expected Bea to

come, but she didn't. She sent her son.

The sound of cupboards being closed, of water

running, of a deep voice singing, awoke me. I

reluctantly left my warm cocoon and followed

the noises. They led me to the kitchen and to

Eagan. When I entered, he was pouring hot

milk in a mug. On the table I noticed a tray full

of bread and jam.

“What are you doing here?” My voice was

rasp, but firm.

He turned toward me and smiled. It wasn't

his usual easy smile, it was tentative.

“Hey, Brina. Get back under the blankets.

I'll bring you your breakfast.”

“Why are you here?” I persisted.

“To take care of you.” He placed the mug

on the tray, then he took a few hesitant steps

toward me.

“Wow. You flew all the way from the States

to play nurse. How nice.” It surprised me how

cold my voice sounded. I liked it. All

considering, it was appropriate.

He kept approaching me. “I wasn't in New

York. I was in England,” he said.

All of a sudden I felt unbearably weak. If

things were normal between us, before leaving

Russia, he would have told me about his plans

for the rest of the summer. And, I was sure, he

would have asked me to go with him, because

he knew how much I liked his grandparents.

And they liked me. They treated me like a part

of their family. He knew how important that

was to me. Still, he had decided not to take

me with him. What had happened back in

Russia wasn't just a mere argument, it was

much more, because Eagan was clearly cutting

me out of his life.

I felt so frail I fell on my knees. Eagan was