Brooklyn:
After being forced to spend one summer in Italy with her grandma, Brooklyn always found her way back to the cobblestone streets but not for the feeling of a summer never ending, but for Valentino, a boy who radiates trouble and sees throu...
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POV: Brooklyn "Healing does not mean forgetting." - j.b Summer #3
Welcomes to the Bennet's, one of the richest family in the New York Society
I will never forget the way the crystal chandeliers dripped with secrets from the ceiling, tainting the polished floors with a stain not even the strongest cleaner can erase. I remember the way I would hear the drops from my room upstairs, how it kept me up at night even when I covered my ears.
On the outside we were the Bennet's, the picture-perfect family with two astonishing daughters, Brooklyn, and Elena, future lawyers ready to take over the family's business.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The sound that used to haunt me now brings me comfort, because I know no matter how many buckets I use that there will always be more.
There will always be more secrets to collect.
"Hurry up," my mamma yelled at me, and Elena hurriedly threw our clothes into our suitcases. We procrastinated until the very last minute and now I probably have only one t-shirt to wear. This will be the first summer that my sister will be going to Italy now that she is 16. Elena always complained when she was younger when I left, saying that if I went at fourteen why couldn't she, but we all know why.
She was major trouble.
"Toothbrush?" Elena asked.
"Check." I said as I paced the room grabbing random things that I would need; my headphones were as important as my life.
"Hairbrush?"
"Shit," I said as I hurriedly ran into my bathroom to grab my hairbrush. With my curly hair, I couldn't last a day without this thing to define my curls. After I cut my hair shoulder length, its not much trouble but I still have PTSD from when my hair was all the way down to my back.
"Okay I think I have everything now," I said out of breath as I grabbed my suitcase and dragged it down one of our spiraling staircases, passing the perfectly framed family portraits over the years. Each year our smiles get more strained, ridged from deception.
Elena followed close behind and we headed out the door with seconds to spear. Papa so major with time that he had a saying "better three hours too soon than a minute too late".
"You never know when you will need more time, love"
I wish I could tell him that time doesn't matter, that it shouldn't matter if you're really living.
We hurried in the car and slam the door, breathing heavily. The fact it was only 6 in the morning didn't make the situation any better, everyone was exhausted.
As the car took us to the airport, I looked out the window and took in old fashioned brick buildings splashed with colorful graffiti, people walking the streets in a hurry, and the sounds of construction.
New York never slept and that's what I loved the most about it or maybe the fact that people are so distracted of the hustle, they don't care to notice the troubles of people around them.
My hand absentmindedly found its way towards the small star necklace around my neck as I placed my head on the car's window, letting the exhaustion of the past week overtake my body.
Cobblestone streets, close tall buildings, and the smell of baked goods.
Italy.
I was standing in the middle of a busy street with tourists taking pictures and viewing the city with eyes of wonder, it was like I stuck in time with my feet glued to the pavement. The people around me just walked past me as if I was ghost, even when I tried to get their attention. It wasn't until I felt a familiar presence that I took the time to look around, not at the people but the details.
The way I saw the same people come walk around, like they were put on an endless loop, or the way goosebumps ran up my arms even though it was summer.
He was here, standing at the end of an alley way, representing everything I hated.
Trouble and secrets.
I don't miss the way how his dark green eyes scanned the crowed, even though he tried to make it look like he was casually smoking a cigarette.
Always up to something.
His wavy dark hair was as messy as usual and the way the stud in his nose dazzled in the sun should be a sin.
I must have been staring hard because when his eyes met mine, he turned and walked down the alley. I know what he wanted me to follow him, and that girl from last summer couldn't help herself.
Shaking myself out of my daze, I pushed myself through the crowd of tourist and went into the alley, just to see him at the end of it making another turn.
Frustrated, I started to run but every time it seemed I had him, he disappeared around another corner. I kept running but froze when I saw him sitting at the edge of a dock overlooking the sunset.
I took a hesitant step toward him but stopped when I saw a girl come out of an alley holding two ice cream cones approach him.
She looked just like me. No, she was me but just a younger version with overalls and two long pigtails.
I watched in disbelief as she I handed Valentino vanilla ice cream.
His favorite.
When I felt the tightness in chest begin from the memory, I turned around and walked toward another alley but hesitated when I heard a familiar voice.
"Mia piccolo stella," Valentino whispered.
My little star.
As I walked down the alley, I saw a fifteen-year-old me blush as Valentino tucked a strand of my curly hair behind my hair. Everything was too new; the wound was just too fresh to revisit past memories. Feeling a sob crawl up my throat, I turned and ran into any alley I could find but each one was filled with a memory of us. Of him.
My head felt it was spinning and without a second thought, I went back down to the dock and took a dive into the water. The warmness of the water engulfed me, and I closed my eyes as I tried to find that wave of darkness to carry me in this internal storm.
The darkness I need to forget the memories of the last two summers.
