Page 80 of I Think Olive You

Reaching into the bag she’s got nestled on her lap, Giuliana pulls out my journal. That fucking journal I left in the desk drawer in my room. Her room, technically. It was only ever going to be mine temporarily.

“Shit.” I don’t mean for it to slip out but I think of everything I’ve written in there. From the first day of deceit all the way through to the end, when I’d given everything up for her. I want to say something else, and promise that I can explain everything, but the journal does that for me.

Between the article and that book in her hand my heart is laid bare.

“Did you mean it?” Giuliana asks.

“Which part?” I’m not sure if I’m actually expecting a response but she flips to a page she’s got dog-eared and it does something to me, to know that she’s read it all.

It fucks me up a little to see Giuliana run her fingertips across the paper, caressing my words the same way I’d done to hers before. As if she’s trying to gather some kind of essence of me from pen put to paper.

She clears her throat and reads my words aloud: “I’ve finally found something that makes the pain worth it. The one who makes me want to be a better person and who I’ll risk everything for.”

Her breath shudders for a moment and she skips ahead slightly.

“When I leave, I’ll carry this love home with me like a souvenir of hurt. Because I do love Giuliana. So, she comes first. Everything else is background noise.”

Past and present collide in the most potent of ways as my feelings are spoken aloud and yet, I don’t say a word. Lost in this moment, time slips away from us with the sun, darkness spreading. Soon, she won’t be able to see the words anymore. Soon, we’ll be wrapped in night, and it’ll be even harder to pretend I’m unaffected by how close we are.

“She’s like a drug, in my bloodstream and on my mind, every second of every day. I love her. I’ve finally fallen and I understand. You want them to be happy above all else. Their needs supersede your own. And Giuliana doesn’t need me. No matter how desperately I need and want and love her.”

Voice shaking by the end, I could swear Giuliana’s getting choked up. Dusk gives way to twilight and the shadows lengthen, robbing me of every detail of her expression.

“Teo…” she sighs.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I will regret it until the day I die.”

Her gaze whips up from the journal to my face and I see pain etched there.

“She’s better off.” Giuliana reads off that line and my chest cracks wide open. All my self-doubt and hatred are out in the open. “Is that really what you think? That I’m better off without you?”

“What place do I have at your side? I’ve brought you and your family nothing but trouble, and lies, and hurt. I want to say I wish I’d never come but I’m too selfish for that. I don’t want to give that up. Those memories are some of the best in my life. So, I’m sorry I fucked up but I’m not sorry I met you.” The words are harsh, hoarse coming out around the tightness of my throat and the emotion packing down onto my vocal cords.

“I’m not sorry I love you,” I whisper.

Love. Present tense. Because it’s not going to change and I need to say it out loud at least once before we part again.

“You hurt me, Matteo. You betrayed me.”

“I know.”

“Your article and these words can’t change that.”

“No.”

The sky is a wash of blues. From the darkest purple above, to a periwinkle dipped in gold where the sun’s surrendered to the horizon, stars peek out from their daytime slumber. Giuliana’s face is nothing but dark lines and curves in the evening around us. Her expression is lost to me and so I pay attention to the catch in her breathing and the feel of her body trembling next to mine.

Why are you here? If it changes nothing—if it doesn’t matter—why did you come?

I can’t ask. I don’t want to push her… away.

“But—” she starts, and I swear to god I suck in a breath like I’ve been submerged far too long and I’ve no idea if I’m about to be plunged back under. “It’s a start. You hurt me, in so many ways, but reading this…”

She holds up the journal and waves it to and fro before tucking it under her hands in her lap. “How could you possibly think I’d be better off without you? Teo, you make me brave. I’m tenacious, sure, but it’s from necessity, not belief. Spite kept me going but you gave me a chance to see myself as you saw me. You make me want to believe that I can do it all and deserve it, too, without the need to prove myself.”

“Giuliana—” I start but she lifts her hand to stop me, and I wait.

“I’m not good with words. I’m not a writer or a poet; I’m just a farmer. I’m better with actions than words, and my hands are what I use to show the earth love and respect. My hands are how I express myself. Time and strength, passion and pain, all of it shows on my palms and the callouses beneath my fingers, but I realize that you can’t see how empty my hands are without yours to hold. So, I’m here. To say the words.” Her voice wobbles as she speaks, as it rushes out of her, and she gesticulates with those beautiful hands before they knot together in a worried clutch.

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