There Is More Light Than Dark

Chapter Twenty Four

Sunday July 16

The first thing I had to do was to figure out exactly where this Valentina lived. She'd sent me the address, but I hadn't got around to figuring out how I was going to get from the airport to her place. I'd never stopped to think how crazy it seemed to just up and go like I had. Someone could have looked at me and thought how much I had to stay for – the opportunities my life and schooling would throw at me. My father and what he had achieved. But even if it hadn't been for the accident and all I still didn't want any of that.

Every time I would stop and think about the thick green hedges that you could see funnelling down every street around me, standing as if guarding something of value. It was always about keeping others out, and out of their business, their finances; their lives. But all of these green walls that they curated and shaved to within an inch of perfection gave away their most basic secrets, mainly because they all had the same one – that they were all exhausted and sick of trying to be something they realized they'd never be, not for any length of time anyway. But as they each drove past and pondered the next family cowering under their gigantic roof and weight of mortgage stress they would get that little lift, that perhaps they weren't struggling quite as much as the family next door.

And I had almost gone there. Almost copped that same burgeois yawn. When I think of that clammy, shrinking adolescence I tried to share with those around me who were safe I shudder at just how naively they all looked forward with their chests pushed out. In amongst the leaf blowers, the juicers and the daily anguish of competition and vengeful comparison I had almost been tempted to stroll and softly accept it all.

And now I stand here ready to reconnect with what is truly in me; and of me. Of Chiara and everything that might belong to her, or at least could have.

Had I known how happy Valentina and her life were going to make me I would've upped and gone at any time before I did. But, you know, swings and roundabouts – you don't know what's out there until you start looking, but you don't start looking until what you had is gone.

The first thing I noticed about Italy was how fast everything was – the cars, the pedestrians, how they talked. People at home talked about Melbourne being cosmopolitan and progressive – the outer layers of the airport at Rome had already put them to shame. The air was heavier – it was mid summer and it was sunny but it felt like I had to fight a little harder to get through the space I needed to in order to reach the next point. Not heavy, just full. I thought about getting a room in Rome for a night or two; suss out the city and get a feel for it all. But all of that looking at Valentina's pictures on the plane – her vineyard, the sunsets, her pristine skin and big round eyes – made me impatient to find her and see if the next chapter for me could be even better than the last one.

From the outset I was determined to keep myself aware of keeping more choices open to myself, regardless of how her and I might fare. I wanted to be sure I could travel, eat, sleep, even work if I had to in a place and an order that meant I kept control of what I wanted and needed. I tried to keep conscious of what I hadn't done well with Avery and all of that mess and not make those errors again. If only I could have been aware of just how easily those things transpire.

People. You just never know.

So I sent her a message – not only looking for a reply but thinking you can always judge a person by the speed of their response. The last direct communication we'd had was the night before I got on the plane, to make sure she knew I was still coming over. It had been a while before she'd got back to me. Could've been the time difference, could've been she was busy in the vines. But for a few hours I wondered if this was something that should still be a priority for me. I tried to convince myself that I could travel anywhere I wanted; wondered if it had to involve a girl.

But, this was Italy and Valentina. Really, there couldn't be any other.

And what if she didn't reply at all, or if she backed out? It wasn't as if we'd set anything in stone – Christ, it wasn't as if we really had anything more than some casual messages and photos over a few cheeky, slightly drunken Messenger sessions. The first one had been my doing after we had quipped and joked over a Trump meme someone had shared on Facebook. It was late in Melbourne on a Friday night and I had just finished what turned out to be one of the last D and M sessions with Avery. I remember leaving the house to hide and recuperate in my car outside and seeing her dad parked in his car just across the road. It was nearly dark but he wasn't trying to hide. Had his window down and he was staring, just staring at me

I knew if I went back inside it would all just start up again so I started drinking the vodka I'd stashed in the glove box. As the night wore on and I had more to drink I saw this post and this comment. She responded to my comment and I noticed her profile had that green dot. Something inside me pushed me to click on her profile and it all just went from there, I guess. By the time I knew she was someone I could pursue, Avery's Dad had gone. The world suddenly opened up again.

Now I waited so close to her home for that same response and green dot to appear as I tried to casually scan this new society that might become my next home with my coffee in hand. I saw lots of colours, lots of things moving. Cool guys in glasses, dressed like they were about to hit a dancefloor or be extras in a Scorsese movie but over here they belonged. Like, really belonged. I immediately felt less cool and more boring. If these were the sorts of guys Valentina had access to, why would she hang around for me? And I saw the women who smoked cigarettes and moved like they were on wheels. They were groomed to within an inch of their life, gliding along the footpath seemingly oblivious to all those who watched and wondered. I was lost in this compendium of beauty for a while, distracted from the anxiety that wanted to brew about any response I might get from Valentina. Often enough I'd come back to my own reality with the honking of a horn and I would again notice the thicker air, brighter by the minute as midday approached, and the chaos – colourful and glamourous – that seemed to thrive off these beautiful people.

And there wasn't more than the slightest part of me right then that had me feel awkward about coming this far for the sake of a girl I hadn't met, so soon after my sweetheart had died. When I sit here with Lola at the base of the lighthouse as I write this that does seem strange but it was weeks ago now and a lot has changed in the meantime, as you will see.

I mean, that list of faults I started earlier – I could add to that as I tell you how I came to be here from there – I meant to show I'm not perfect, but it might also serve to show how much I've had to deal with as the time has passed.

Losing the three women I have loved is not something that has you keep much of a positive outlook on life but with Lola I am determined to make sure that doesn't happen a fourth time.

At least she doesn't have a parent left who will try to blame me if anything does go horribly wrong.