A Veil of Glass and Rain

by Petra F. Bagnardi

  That summer Mina and her family were with us again, and so were David, Eagan's best friend, his younger sister Felia and their parents.

  Felia was my age, but she was rather shy, and didn't spend much time with all of us, including her brother. That is why what happened during that special vacation surprised me so much.

  Both Eagan and David were expansive and affectionate. They treated Mina and me as buddies. And it wasn't rare to receive from them a hug or a gentle brush of fingers on our cheeks, when we looked sad or disappointed for small or big reasons. We were daughters of often absent parents devoted to their jobs, therefore those attentions were precious and comforting. They made us feel accepted. When Eagan and David were with us, I could see my joy reflected in Mina's eyes, as if we were each other mirror images.

  But then one night, when the boat was about to approach Saint Petersburg, our families asked all of us to meet for an early dinner. Because of the shower malfunctioning in our cabin, Mina and I arrived later than the others to the restaurant.

  During the entire dinner I remember feeling the boat engines trembling beneath my feet; I remember David scowling at his sister and his parents; I remember the closed expression on Eagan's face.

  Our parents tried to make small, cheerful talk, but the tension was heavy and unbearable. My stomach lurched and refused any kind of food.

  Back in our cabin, Mina and I sat on our beds in silence for a long while.

  “That was weird. What do you think happened?” She finally said.

  “I don't know. I need to talk to Eagan,” I told her.

  “Sure. Go.”

  As I stood to leave, she gave me a reassuring smile.

  I knocked on the door of Eagan's cabin, then I waited. The door opened after a long moment.

  David gave me a tired smile. “Hey, Brina. He's not here.”

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  “Somewhere brooding, I guess.” David looked up and scowled at the ceiling.

  “What happened, David?”

  He invited me in and told me the entire story. In the end, it turned out to be a silly event blown out of proportions.

  Felia, David's sister, had developed a little crush on Eagan. She had written him a love letter, which Eagan read and then discussed about with David. Then the two guys tried to talk to Felia and make her understand that Eagan was an expansive and friendly kind of person with everyone, especially his friends and family, but it didn't mean anything more than that.

  Felia, as any teenage girl would, got mad at Eagan for showing the letter to David, and got mad at them both for minimizing her feelings. David talked to his parents. They tried to explain to their daughter how Eagan's attitude toward the world worked. Felia remained upset, so her parents told Eagan that he had to change is general behavior, because it could lead to misunderstandings.

  All this happened during the day. The boat had stopped for supplies at a small village. My parents and Mina's had spent the day taking pictures; Mina and I visiting the village museum with Bea and Arthur, Eagan's parents. And Felia, apparently, had spent the day with Eagan and David.

  “I'm sure Eagan is going to beat himself up and try to change his attitude toward everyone,” concluded David.

  “You know him well,” I told him.

  He smiled briefly, then his expression turned solemn. “Brina, just like my over-sensitive best friend, I'm a very friendly person.” He paused to take a deep breath. “I need to know...do you have a crush on me?”

  “No,” I answered.

  “Thank goodness!” He sighed theatrically.

  Despite my sadness, I laughed.

  “Go talk to him. He needs you. He won't listen to me,” David said, his face serious once more.

  I went.

  Eagan didn't need me, or he didn't want to need me.

  I found him on the upper deck. He was staring at the dark water, his arms crossed on the railing, his face shattered.

  I approached him carefully. “Eagan?”

  He didn't turn to look at me. “I need to be alone,” he muttered.

  “Daniel told me.” My voice was so small, that it melted into the night, among the sounds produced by the water and the boat engines, but he heard it.

  “And?”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I tried to speak louder.

  His jaw tensed. “Your English needs some improving. I'm pretty sure I just asked to be left alone,” he barked out.

  His words weren't important; it was a silly joke. But his tone was hard. I tried not to mind too much, because I knew he was upset. I could take it. He needed me to be there for him.

  I touched his arm with hesitant fingers, but he flinched and recoiled, as if I had burned him. I stumbled backward and grabbed at the railing for support. I was sure a punch in the stomach would have hurt less. But I didn't leave. I waited for softer words, for kinder eyes, I waited for my good giant to come back to me.

  He didn't. He didn't really need me. So I left.

  The three days in Saint Petersburg were supposed to be the climax of my vacation, but the distance that Eagan had placed between us crushed me.

  I followed our group through the enormous hallways of the Hermitage in a daze. Eagan and David weren't with us; it was fine with me, considering I couldn't bare looking at his cold and closed expression.

  At some point during the visit, my legs just stopped moving and I found myself staring at a painting, without really seeing it. A gentle hand on my shoulder brought me back to reality. It was Bea, Eagan's mum. I glanced up at her, and met bright blue eyes, and my best friend's easy smile. My delicate heart splintered and I almost wept, because I craved that smile.

  “Lets get out of here. I want to do some gift searching.”

  Bea hated shopping, I knew, and I felt grateful she wanted to cheer me up.

  We walked aimlessly down the large streets of Saint Petersburg for hours. We were silent at first. Eventually, she spoke.

  “My son has known David's family for years. Regardless, what they told him was out of line. Eagan's expansiveness is one of his best traits.”

  I just nodded, for I still didn't trust my voice not to break.

  “But Eagan, just like his dad, is also over-sensitive,” she continued.

  I nodded again, without looking at her; the Russian pavements seemed like a safe place for my misty eyes to focus on.

  “Give him three days. If he doesn't come back to you after three days, then you can get mad. Really mad.”

  I finally gazed at her. “Why three days?”

  She smiled and my heart leaped. “You know why.”

  I remained thoughtful for a few moments, then it came to me. The previous summer, when we went to the Lighthouse Island, I'd gotten upset and Eagan had given me three days to brood, before losing his patience.

  I managed a small grin. “Agreed.”

  During the three days I conceded Eagan, I watched him joke with David, go out at night with other kids their age, and drawing on his sketchbook the Palaces and the impressive bridges at night. He appeared to be blithe. In a way I was glad, but it also made me sort of sad, because evidently he could go on without me, while I felt empty and broken without him.

  There was also an unknown ache deep inside me, that kept me awake at night. It was at once painful and sensual, and it emerged within my core each time I thought about my best friend. It was an unfamiliar stirring that I feared, but that I also welcomed.

  The three days passed, but Eagan didn't come back to me; so I got mad, really mad.

  Soon after our Russian vacation my parents traveled to Africa, to do some research and preparatory work for a photo-book project. Bea and Arthur went somewhere in Eastern Europe for a project of their own. I didn't know, and didn't ask about Eagan's plans after our ruined vacation. I just returned home.

  At the time my family resided in Turin.

  Torino, or Turin, is a fascinating city located in the northern part of Italy. It flaunts one of the bi
ggest and most beautiful squares in Europe, and a considerable museum of cinema. But Turin is also a rainy and gloomy place.

  Although it was still summer when I arrived, I was met by a drizzle so thick, it seemed like the entire city was hidden behind an impenetrable curtain. It perfectly matched my mood, but coming from an unexpectedly warm Russia, my body didn't accept well the temperature abrupt change. After my first night home, I woke up weak and feverish.

  I took an aspirin and placed a stack of Kleenex on the coffee table. After I collapsed onto the couch, I buried my trembly limbs under a mountain of blankets.

  We lived in a two-story house; I didn't have the strength to climb the stairs that led to my room. Besides, in the den I had a TV and a DVD player to keep me company. On my second day home, I felt so sick I didn't even have the energy to cook myself a meal. The lady who took care of me and the house when my parents worked abroad, was still on vacation. I didn't want to worry my parents, who were far away. So I called Bea and Arthur, who were in Europe, therefore closer.

  After our phone-call I expected Bea to come, but she didn't. She sent her son.

  The sound of cupboards being closed, of water running, of a deep voice singing, awoke me. I reluctantly left my warm cocoon and followed the noises. They led me to the kitchen and to Eagan. When I entered, he was pouring hot milk in a mug. On the table I noticed a tray full of bread and jam.

  “What are you doing here?” My voice was rasp, but firm.

  He turned toward me and smiled. It wasn't his usual easy smile, it was tentative.

  “Hey, Brina. Get back under the blankets. I'll bring you your breakfast.”

  “Why are you here?” I persisted.

  “To take care of you.” He placed the mug on the tray, then he took a few hesitant steps toward me.

  “Wow. You flew all the way from the States to play nurse. How nice.” It surprised me how cold my voice sounded. I liked it. All considering, it was appropriate.

  He kept approaching me. “I wasn't in New York. I was in England,” he said.

  All of a sudden I felt unbearably weak. If things were normal between us, before leaving Russia, he would have told me about his plans for the rest of the summer. And, I was sure, he would have asked me to go with him, because he knew how much I liked his grandparents. And they liked me. They treated me like a part of their family. He knew how important that was to me. Still, he had decided not to take me with him. What had happened back in Russia wasn't just a mere argument, it was much more, because Eagan was clearly cutting me out of his life.

  I felt so frail I fell on my knees. Eagan was beside me in an instant. He took me in his arms.

  I screeched, “Don't touch me. I hate you!”

  Then I began to tremble uncontrollably.

  “I don't know what to do. She's so cold. Should I take her to a hospital?”

  I was back under my mountain of blankets, but I still felt like there was ice in my veins. I wanted sleep to take me back under, but Eagan's anguished voice kept me afloat.

  “The aspirins aren't working. Maybe I should give her something stronger, or--What? Mum, are you listening? She's freezing and--Seriously? Fine. I'll ask her. She's awake. Well, sort of. Dammit!”

  His face was suddenly close to mine. His hand caressed my hair, his other hand held his cellphone close to his ear. “Kitty-cat?”

  “What?” I rasped.

  “Mum, I really think she needs--Fine. Brina, why do you hate me?”

  I emerged from my cocoon and managed to sit up. Eagan sat on the couch, close to my feet, still clutching his phone.

  “I hate you because you're cutting me out. I'm supposed to be your family, Eagan, but you've let them trash and poison what we have. I love you and I don't care what other people think about us. You're my friend, my family, and if other people don't like what we have or how we behave with each other, I don't care. Screw them! All I need is my family, all I need is you. But, apparently, you don't love me enough, if all it takes for you to give up on us are a few words.” By the end of my speech I was breathless and deplete, but at least my heart felt a little less heavy.

  Eagan smiled his easy smile. “Are we sure she's only 14, mum?” He asked his cellphone. “Yes, I'll take care of her. I'll make everything good again. Bye, mum.” He placed his phone on the coffee table, then he pulled me into his warm embrace. I let him.

  As soon as my face was pressed against his chest, and the smell of cinnamon enveloped me, I began to cry.

  His lips brushed my temple. “I am so sorry, Brina,” he whispered. “I love you so much, kitty-cat. Forgive me, please. I'm sorry. I love you.”

  He painted my skin with his sweet words, until I fell asleep.

  A rumbling laughter woke me up. Eagan's arms were around me, my cheek was pressed against his chest and a huge snot and drool stain decorated his t-shirt. I sat up and covered my leaking nose with my hand. “Sorry!”

  Eagan reigned in his laughter, but only to admire the stain on his chest. “It has the shape of Italy.” He traced the contours with his fingertip. “You even painted Sicily and Sardinia with your drool. You're very accurate.”

  “Gross, Eagan!” I blushed wildly and grabbed a Kleenex from my stash on the coffee table. Eagan began to laugh anew, while I buried my nose into the tissues.

  “Don't be embarrassed. I'm actually impressed,” he managed to say in between bouts of laughter.

  “Stop it!” I tried to sound stern, but his chuckling was infectious, and my lips curled into a smile.

  After a few more bad jokes about snot, drool, and geography, he brushed my cheek with the back of his fingers.

  “It's good to see you smiling,” he said, then he cupped my face in his hands and drew me toward him, to press his lips to my forehead.

  “You're not burning anymore,” he murmured against my skin.

  “I'm in desperate need of a shower,” I told him.

  He sniffed. “Yes, you are.”

  I pushed him away and he laughed, again. As I stood, my head spun a little and I wobbled. Immediately, Eagan was beside me, his arm around my shoulders to support me. I leaned into him.

  “I'm still a bit weak,” I stated the obvious.

  “I can see that,” he agreed.

  Then he scooped me up in his arms and he carried me up the stairs. He deposited me gently in front of my room.

  “Thank you.” I beamed up at him, but his face was tense. “What?”

  “If you feel like you need to thank me because I'm kind to you, it means I've really made a big mess of things.” He gave me a sad smile.

  I grabbed his hand. “Eagan, I-”

  Hi shook his head. “I'll fix this. I'll make everything good again.”

  When I was fourteen my hair barely reached my chin, therefore it was very manageable and quick to wash.

  It didn't take me long to shower and change into clean sweats. I even managed to descend the stairs without faltering. In the den I was greeted by a grinning Eagan; a sofa full of clean blankets and pillows; a tray loaded with toast, jam, orange juice and steamy milk.

  Eagan had changed into fresh clothes as well. I went to him, clutched a handful of his T-shirt and stared right into his bright blue eyes. “Thank you, Eagan.”

  His expression turned serious and unmovable for a few moments, but then his face relaxed and the grin reappeared. “You're welcome, kitty-cat.”

  We ate breakfast while we watched cartoons on TV. I ate toast, drank some juice, but my stomach refused the milk. While Eagan cleaned up, I hid under the blankets and waited. After a while the covers shifted and the sofa dipped. I felt Eagan's warm body behind mine. He linked an arm around my waist and pulled me back against him. I took his hand in mine and cradled our joined fingers against my chest.

  “When my mum called and told me you were sick, I got so, so scared, kitty-cat.” He nuzzled my neck. “Then, when I saw that you weren't just sick, you were crushed, I wanted to kick myself.”

  I squeezed his hand to
reassure him.

  “I know I shouldn't care what other people think about me,” he continued, “But David's parents aren't just people. It matters what they think about me. You know, according to David, Felia is already over the whole thing. It was just a momentary crush. But I knew it already. It's David's folks reaction I don't get. It made me question everything. At the airport David hugged me and I pushed him away. And he told me, 'Dude, snap out of it!'”

  “I like David. He's a great friend,” I interjected.

  Eagan kissed my cheek. “He is. And so are you, Brina. You brought me back.”

  I let go of his hand and shifted a little. His arm tightened around me. “Where are you going? You need anything? I'll get it for you.”

  I beamed and shook my head. “I want to look at you.”

  His arm loosened a bit, and I turned, so that we were facing each other. “You are an amazing person, Eagan. You make everyone around you feel special. You even made the uptight Russian crew snort. I don't want you to change.”

  He held me tighter and nuzzled the top of my head. He murmured my name, then he said, “I'm wearing a snot-proof T-shirt.”

  I chuckled and buried my face against his chest.

  We spent the entire day sleeping. We needed it. Eagan's arms were the perfect cocoon. I hoped he thought the same of me.

  The following day I felt much better, but I wasn't happy about it, because it meant that Eagan could go back to his grandparents.

  I found him in the kitchen. He was a very good nurse, for on the table there were toast and tea; the only things my stomach was able to accept. He was also preparing sandwiches for his trip back to England.