Page 111 of Better Than Gelato
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Santorini is small, and after three days, we’ve seen most of it. We took a boat tour around the island and explored some underwater caves. We hiked a volcano and lounged on a beach with sand the color of obsidian.
When it’s time, we walk down to the main dock and catch the last ferry of the day. After this, we’ll catch our flight from Athens to Milan, and our trip will be over. The ferry slowly pulls away from the dock. We stay on the deck and watch the sun sink into the Aegean. The sky remains a stubborn pink long after the sun has gone, like it’s clinging to something that’s no longer there. I know the feeling.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
The airport smells like old carpet and crushed dreams.
“You okay?” Jake says. “Feeling bummed about going home?”
I’m curled up in a blue vinyl chair, picking at a hole in the fabric.
Bummed isn’t the right word, but devastated seems dramatic. Jake gives me a smile and it’s so tender my heart squeezes. I remember with gratitude that my favorite thing about Italy is coming back to America with me.
Jake managed to get a flight that leaves just an hour after mine. Now we’re sitting at my gate waiting for my plane to arrive and break my heart.
“You know, America’s a pretty good country,” Jake says. “Some people even come from other countries just to live there.”
“I’m sure I’ll remember the good things about it once I’m there,” I say.
“I know today sucks,” Jake says, wrapping his arm around me. “I got you something to cheer you up.”
He hands me a white envelope, and I remember some of the other white envelopes he’s given me. Sure enough, I open it and pull out a roundtrip ticket from San Diego to NYC in September. I look at Jake.
“To make leaving each other easier,” he says. I burst into tears. I’m not handling this well. I know I’m not. But I don’t know how else to handle it.
“Thank you,” I say, when I get my tears under control.When did I become such a crier?
Jake rubs my back and tells me about the cool things we’ll do in New York City when I come visit. I listen and try to feel excited. Eventually my flight is called. When there are only three people in line, I stand up and collect my carry-on.
Jake stands with me and wraps his arm around me. “I love you,” he whispers. I nod my head. I know this.
“I love you too,” I say. But I can’t bring myself to let go.
“I’ll see you in six weeks,” he says.
“Okay, six weeks,” I repeat.
And then they’re calling all passengers to board, and I finally let go. I give him a small kiss and walk over to the flight attendant. She scans my boarding pass, hands it back to me, and then gestures to the jetway. Casually. As though she isn’t encouraging me to leave behind all the wonder and magic I’ve found this last year.
I walk two steps, then turn for one more look at Jake. I feel frozen to the spot. I can’t do this. I can’t leave him.
And then Jake sprints past the flight attendant, scoops me into his arms, and kisses me like I’m oxygen and he’s drowning. My hands lock around his neck, and my toes aren’t touching the floor. He kisses me, and I know he’s feeling every single thing I’m feeling.
There’s a loud cough which we ignore, and then a “Ragazzi, per favore,”kids, please, which makes Jake return my feet to the ground and release me from his arms. He takes a step back.
The flight attendant gives us a smile and a head shake, like, “We’ve all been there.”
Jake turns and goes back to the waiting area. He smiles at me with dimples in his cheeks and love in his eyes.
“Ciao, bella!” he calls.
“Ciao, bello!” I call back. And then I’m turning and walking down the jetway and the tears are rolling off my cheeks and dropping onto the floor before I even make it to my seat.
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The trip home is long. I make a list of all the wonderful things that have happened in the last year.
