40. Worlds apart

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                     I had a plan. I thought I did. Sneak into my house, grab my guitar and then leave again. But already from step one, I knew I was going to fail. I didn't have the keys. I must have left them in the kitchen this morning, thinking it wasn't important anyway. I was naive this morning, I was happy. This morning felt like decades ago.

    One soft knock, and my mum was already at the door. For a moment I felt thankful, but then I looked at her and something in me broke. She was up at midnight because of me. Her eyelids drooped as she looked at me from head to toe. I expected her to yell, I wanted her to yell at me. But she just embraced me, in a way only a mother could do. 

    ''Oh, Pietro,'' she whispered,'' You do this again and I swear to God I will –''

    ''I know,'' I said, ''I'm sorry, Mum.''

    She released me from the hug and let me in. I went straight to my bedroom and grabbed the guitar. When I came back to the living room, she looked at me like I was nuts.

    ''Where do you think you're going?'' she asked. 

    I put my dead phone on the coffee table, where an empty bottle of wine stood. 

    ''Look,'' she said, ''I know that you're sixteen and everything seems to be so overwhelming, but tomorrow is a school day and – ''

    ''Mum, I need to do this.''

    She seemed confused, waiting for a detailed explanation. 

    ''I just need to fix... I need to do this, okay?''

    ''Can't you do it in the morning?''

    ''It will be different in the morning. It might be too late.''

    My rambling didn't seem to make sense to her, but she knew this was important to me. That's how mums worked. They just understood even if they didn't really understand.

    ''Please be careful,'' she said.

    I nodded my head and walked out the door. 

    So I thought I had a plan. Sneak into my house, grab my guitar and then leave again. But as I stood here, shivering in front of this pink palace with a guitar around my neck, I wondered what the hell I was doing. Dozens of little stones had already hit the 4th floor window, but the room was still dark. I tried again and again and again. Most times I missed. I forgave myself, though. It was almost 1 a.m., my arms were exhausted and it was too dark to see anything.

    ''Fuck,'' I muttered. And the lights in the room turned on. Funny, huh? I had been throwing these little stones for half an hour, while all I needed to do was just swear. Sometimes I wondered how Noemi's brain worked.

    A shadow appeared behind the curtains. It was her. I gulped and tensed my muscles. Was I supposed to start now, or wait until she opens the window and pops her head out? I didn't know. I'd never done this before, I'd never imagined myself doing it. 

    My fingers ran down the strings. One sound, and the shadow disappeared again. The lights turned off and I wondered what the hell I had done wrong. I lowered my head and looked at the guitar. I still remembered that trip to Milan, our first kiss, our conversation on the rooftop. The next time I'll be there, she won't be my side. That thought devastated me. 

    I sighed and turned around, ready to leave. But then I heard the squeaky sound of the door and I knew it was her. I smiled. I saw this scene in a thousand movies and they always made me vomit. Too cheesy, too romantic. But in that moment puking was the last thing on my mind, kissing her was the first. 

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