The next day, I woke up to an empty house. No sign of my broken mother in her bedroom, no sign of a distraught Peter in his office. And no sign of the guy I loved anywhere.
I sighed, and headed into my mother's room, not turning the lights on as I sat on her bed and looked around the dark, silent room. She left her closet door open and I could see some of her clothes and shoes were gone. Peter's side of the closet remained untouched.
I felt a knot forming in my throat as I stood up and went into her closet. I turned the light on and passed my fingers past every piece of clothing she had hanging up. Silky dresses straight from Milan. Cashmere sweaters from Austria. Skirts off the runway from Paris. My mother looked so beautiful when she wore these things. So glamorous and full of life. Yet deep down, she was empty and lost. But she didn't want to let anyone help her find herself. And that's what Peter was trying to do before my mother pushed him away.
I sniffled and turned to leave when this red photo album almost hidden deep under a pile of shoes caught my attention.
I kneeled down and pulled the book out, the cover reading "BEAUTIFUL MEMORIES" In gold letters.
I opened it and felt my breath get caught in my throat as I saw of my mother and father, a picture I had never seen before.
My mom was laughing, looking up at my father, who had a big smile on his face and was overlooking the ocean from a terrace in some hotel. They both looked so happy, so young, so lively.
I slowly pulled the photo out and read the date on the back, Tuscany 1999 8th anniversary
I softly passed my fingers over the face of my father, a man I barely remembered now. I couldn't remember his laugh, I couldn't remember his voice. He passed away 3 weeks after they came back from that trip.
I put the picture back and kept flipping through the album, seeing pictures of my parents over and over, them together in Milan, Paris, Barcelona, all over the world. The same, genuine, happy smile on my mom's face. A smile I had never seen in her last marriages. But it was a smile I had finally gotten to know again these past few months. When she was with Peter.
I put the album back in its place, feeling some sort of peace. I knew no one could ever replace my father. But it was possible to let them be in our lives, and continue that love that was cut too short. Just like Peter had tried to do.
I heard the front door open and I jumped up, turning the closet light off and running out of my mom's room, afraid it was her. But when I got downstairs, I found Adam instead, drinking juice in the kitchen.
I stood there awkwardly, as our eyes met. He just kept on drinking his orange juice.
"Hey," I finally said, leaning against the counter and watching him, "How are you?"
He set his glass down and avoided my eyes, "Good, thanks."
"Oh, okay." I looked down, hoping he would say something more to me.
Instead, he shrugged and said, "Alright, well bye."
"Wait." I called out.
He halted and slowly turned around, his lips pursed. "Yes?"
I sighed, searching for the right words to say. I swallowed hard and took a step closer to him, "Why are we doing this?"
He looked away, "Doing what?"
"You know what, Adam." I was hurt, "This, you being cold to me. What does our parents' divorce have to do with what's going on with us?"
He didn't say anything. Then softly: "It has everything to do with us, Serena. You're going to go back to New York. My dad and I are going to go back to our same life here. But it won't be the same, you know why?"
I said nothing, but I felt the knot forming
in my stomach.
"Because he finally let a woman into his life, after the last women he let in just walked out on him. And what does she do? She decides to leave after less than four months of marriage. Because she thought it was going to be different this time."
He sounded disgusted and I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. But I had the courage to. And I had to have the courage to say what I did next, "I know it hurts you what my mother is doing. It hurts me to. And I know you know this because we both know damn well you were listening to our conversation last night.
His jaw dropped.
"And I know you know, that hidden between the lines of my words, I was really trying to tell my mom that I had finally found someone I loved. Someone who loved me" I swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears, "At least someone I thought who did. But even so, I don't regret a single moment of it. I don't regret that night in the closet, nor anyone one of those endless nights we shared in our haven in the attic.
"So before you go thinking about only how you and your dad's feelings were affected here, well you're wrong. Because I was too. I felt like I actually belonged. Like I actually had a family."
His face was full of regret and surprise at my words. And as a tear escaped my eyes, I knew It was time to finish up, "And what hurts the most, is that you prefer to forget what happened between us. But that's okay." I wiped my tear, "I won't forget it, Adam. I won't forget the way I love you. And no divorce or distance can change that."
And without looking at his eyes, I turned and went upstairs, as I heard the sound of the moving truck backing into the driveway. So I went upstairs, to pack my stuff and head back to the life that I no longer missed since I met Peter and Adam.