Anywhere (4 page)

“Hey, Skye. It’s fine. They’re just tears—I don’t mind.” He waited until I sat back in my seat. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Paige is getting married.” I smiled through my tears and tried not to worry that Asher would think I was insane.

I was happy for her, but I couldn’t help but worry. She hadn’t really had a chance to start her life, and here she was pregnant and soon-to-be married to someone she hadn’t known all that long. I mean, Blaine and I had dated for a year before he proposed, and then it had been another year before the wedding almost happened. And it hadn’t worked out after all that time. (Thank god.) How could she know whether she’d want to be with Danny for the rest of her life?

Not that most marriages lasted that long. My parents divorced when I was seven, and most of my friends’ parents were divorced. I actually don’t know why I looked at marriage as a life-long commitment when clearly it wasn’t. I guess it was the idealist in me. I wanted to get married once and only once. I wanted to find someone who I fit with so well that we’d be together forever. Someone who listened to me, who didn’t ignore the things I wanted to do in favor of his plans. Someone who could see
me
, who didn’t make me feel invisible. Like Blaine had.

Why did everything keep coming back to Blaine?

Let me just say that it would be so easy to blame him for everything, but in all reality Blaine didn’t deserve that. He hadn’t done anything
wrong
other than want to marry the wrong girl. He loved the person I’d pretended to be. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be who other people wanted me to be. It’s just my nature—I want people to be happy, I want them to like me. But I was so tired of getting it wrong. I couldn’t make everyone happy all the time no matter how hard I tried.

And it had only made me miserable.

I’d also come
this
close to marrying a man I didn’t really love, just to please everyone else.

So I was done with it. As I’d driven to pick up Paige in Simsbury, I’d made the decision. I was going to be myself for the first time in my life. Can I just say how completely terrifying that was? Because if people didn’t like it, then it didn’t mean I’d gotten
something
wrong, it meant there was something wrong with
me
.

Being myself was the scariest thing I’d ever done.

At the same time, I never wanted to be in that situation again, in a relationship with someone who didn’t know the real me. I needed to trust—or at least hope—that someone would love me for me, flaws and all. And if he didn’t, then I didn’t want to be with him anyway.

Because I was done pretending, and I was using this trip to get comfortable with the real me, letting her show, cementing her presence in my skin, in my mind. And that meant being her now. No matter what.

Because really, if some guy didn’t like me, did it matter? I was starting to realize it didn’t. Like with Asher right at that moment—we were two strangers on a train. If he didn’t like me, then he could go his way and I could go mine, and we’d never even remember each other. That had happened hundreds of times in college. All those guys I’d met over the past four years and hadn’t been truly attracted to? Can’t remember even one of them. So it really didn’t matter.

“I’m confused,” Asher said. “If they’re getting married, wouldn’t that mean it went well?” He raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“Yes, it did. And I’m happy and worried all at the same time.”

He grinned wider, pulled his sweater off, and stretched his arms up over his head. The muscles rolled and flexed under his skin, and he groaned softly. “I hate sleeping sitting up,” he said.

“Me, too. I’m looking forward to a real bed tonight.”

The train was slowing down, and I turned to look out the window. The countryside was giving way to a crowded city of old buildings—a blur of cream, terracotta, and tan.

“Is this—”

“Roma!”
the conductor yelled out as he stepped into our car.

I grinned at Asher and turned back toward the window.

I was in Rome. And my eyes started to water again. Being here made me miss Paige even more. We would have had so much fun together. Though I could feel in my soul that this trip was going to change my life on so many levels, it wasn’t going to be as much fun on my own. But at the same time it felt amazingly good to have made it to my first stop. On my own—I glanced at Asher—mostly.

There was so much I wanted to see here. This city was so full of history I felt overwhelmed even before I stepped foot on the ground. (Ground, by the way, that had been walked on by humans for at least ten thousand years and a city that’s existed for two and a half thousand years, which honestly blows my mind in all the best ways.)

“Where are you staying?” Asher said.

And for a moment my euphoria crashed into reality. I didn’t have a place to stay. And I had to remind myself that it was okay, it was part of the adventure.

“I don’t know,” I said, trying not to panic, trying to feel adventurous. It wasn’t entirely working.

“Hey,” Asher said, his voice warm and low. “Why don’t we go see if there’s a space for you at the hostel where I’m going to stay?”

“You think there’ll be a bed for me?”

“Only one way to find out.” And he smiled.

I don’t know how he did it. He seemed so laid back about everything, while my first reaction was always PANIC. Maybe he wasn’t worried because he was a guy. He could sleep on a park bench and not worry someone was going to rape him. Or maybe he’d already been doing this long enough to know you can always find somewhere to sleep.

When we got off the train, Asher asked someone for directions and a few minutes later we were walking the streets of Rome.

ROME.

I have absolutely no shame in the fact that I gawked like a ridiculous tourist at everything. Along the main roads, right next to these circus-like ten lane streets, people drove crazy-insane. Seriously, trying to cross the road put your life at risk. I don’t think pedestrians have the right of way there the way they do in the States. Which, by the way, was an Excellent Thing to learn right away. Life-saving. I am so not kidding about that.

The hostel was only a few minutes from the train. We checked in, and luckily they had a bed for me in the dorm. I hadn’t had a shower since two nights ago, so I excused myself to go clean up and change.

I didn’t know what Asher’s plans were and didn’t want him to feel like I was tagging along, so I wanted to give him an easy out. He could go on his way alone if that’s what he wanted.

When I came back down to the lobby—feeling fresh and cool in capris, a light green t-shirt, and trekking sandals—my heart sank. It was empty. He was gone. As I stood there alone, I felt stupid for having had my hopes up. It’s not like we really were friends. We’d been traveling companions from Paris to Rome, that’s all. And that was fine. I’d survive.

I pulled my phone out and turned it on. I needed to send a quick text to my mom, but first I texted my brother. I’d barely messaged him since I’d left and even though he was probably still asleep, I just really wanted to check in.

ME:
Hey. I’m in Rome. (That’s in Italy.)

JUSTIN:
FU. I know where Rome is. Give me some credit.

ME:
Holy shit! You’re awake!

JUSTIN:
I still have school. My last week. Btw, I owe you BIG.

ME:
Why?

JUSTIN
: You so monumentally screwed up that I’m golden for life now.

ME:
And that’s different from before HOW? Dork.

JUSTIN:
Doofus. All the same THANKS.

ME:
Welcome. At least some good should come of this.

JUSTIN:
Heard Paige came back. You okay?

ME:
Yeah. I just couldn’t come back yet. You know?

JUSTIN:
For what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t marry plain Blaine. He was too vanilla.

ME:
Me, too. And thanks.

JUSTIN:
You deserve better.

ME:
Aw, you’re giving me all the happy feelz.

JUSTIN:
Shut up. And be safe, k?

ME:
I will. Now you shut up & go to school. Love you.

I scrolled back through our conversation for a minute, missing my brother in a crazy way. He’d just turned seventeen a couple of months ago. Being so much older, I’d always looked out for him. I still did.

I sent a quick text to my mother that I’d
arrived in Rome COMPLETELY unscathed, neither kidnapped nor killed
, then quickly shut off my phone before she could respond. I couldn’t handle her again so soon.

I looked around the lobby one more time. It was empty except for me.

I sighed. Well, I’d decided to take this trip alone. And this is what happened when you did that—you were, shockingly, alone. I hitched my backpack up on my shoulders and went out the door. At least I’d meet some people tonight back at the hostel. Maybe I’d find some new friends to hang out with. I wasn’t the greatest at making friends right away, but I’d have to improve if I didn’t want to spend all my time on my own.

So I went to the Vatican and literally gaped—embarrassing, but true—the whole time I was inside the Sistine Chapel. I was Such a Tourist. But the totally restored ceiling is
beyond
stunning. I stood there so long gazing up at it that my neck was sore for days afterwards (totally worth it). But I couldn’t help it. It had taken Michelangelo four years to paint it, so he worked on that ceiling for as long as I’d been in college. I just couldn’t imagine working on one project that long. And painting something that huge—it’s twelve thousand square feet!

There’s something sacred about that space though—and I’m not religious. But seriously, if I believed in God, I would have thought She had a hand in its creation.

Then I walked over to St. Peter’s Basilica. The cathedral was intense—almost too much to look at, too much to take in. It’s overwhelming in its size and elaborate décor, and the place is HUGE—like it was built for a race of giants. Not only were people dwarfed by the size of the statues and the height of the ceiling and dome, but also by the fact that every surface is adorned in some way. It’s visually loud.

There was one peaceful spot I found—in front of the
Pietà
, Michelangelo’s sculpture of Mary with Jesus laying across her lap. I don’t know what it was about that sculpture, but once I saw it, I couldn’t move. It was gentle, heartbreaking, and full of…love. You’d think it would have a sadness to it, but it doesn’t. It just radiates love. Everything fell away around me as I took it in. I’d never seen anything like it.

Afterwards I sat in the middle of St. Peter’s Square amidst the pigeons and tourists. It felt so strange to be totally on my own. Good strange, but strange nonetheless. So much of the last two years of my life had been spent with Blaine, and even though his absence now made me feel like I could finally breathe, I also felt like I was nowhere, had no anchor in the world. You know, you get so used to depending on other people—not necessarily to make decisions, though Blaine had done that all the time, but just for companionship. To tether you, give you the sense that you belong.

I didn’t belong anywhere in that moment. Not at home, not in the busy plaza. No one knew me. No one knew where I was. I had no idea what I was going to do with my life or how I was going to face my family when I got home.

Actually, I felt like I didn’t have a home any longer. I was done with college, wasn’t moving in with a new husband, and couldn’t even begin to fathom living at home—that just wasn’t an option.

I had no place, and I suddenly, desperately wanted to find one.

five

“W
here are you from, love? You look American.”

This, obviously, was not the place for me either. The guy teetered on his bar stool, and I was pretty much in constant peril of him falling on me. Which was decidedly NOT attractive. And this guy was drop-dead gorgeous—dark blond hair falling into clear green eyes, a face of drool-worthy hard angles, muscles cut as if out of marble, and a panty-dropping British accent. But no matter how cute he was, being hit on by a drunk guy was only ever annoying.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m from the States.” And I turned away cursing myself for coming to the restaurant alone. It was attached to the hostel, and seemed like a good place to get dinner. But at the moment I was wishing I’d opted for the walk to the little café I’d seen earlier.

“Another pint for me,” the guy said to the bartender, then leaned into me and put his arm along the back of my stool, pressing his chest against my shoulder. I leaned away. “And what about you, love? Let me buy you a drink.”

“Thanks,” I said, “but I’m fine.”

“Oh, come now. What’s a lovely girl like you drinking?” He reached up to brush the hair away from my neck and I almost fell right off my stool in an effort to evade his touch.

“Water. And I’m fine, really.” I grabbed the hand that was still reaching for me and placed it on the bar in front of him. Then I looked over his shoulder toward the door, trying to determine just how hungry I actually was. Maybe I didn’t really need dinner tonight. Though, after all the walking I’d done today, my stomach grumbled in protest.