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‘I need to go home’, he had said out of the blue as they were approaching Alexandria.
Yusuf, heart always on his sleeve, had somehow managed to school his features into something entirely neutral.
‘For good?’
‘I… do not know. My sister, she is all alone.’
Yusuf had nodded and fallen quiet. Two days later, he had blanketed Nicolὸ with his naked body under the moonlight, whispered words spilling from his mouth.
‘I will wait for you. Here, in Alexandria. If you do not return before the winter solstice, then you will never return.’
Nicolὸ had gasped his name and come undone and the next morning, he had practically vanished without even saying goodbye.
That had been two months ago.
Two months of pure torture, of boredom, loneliness and heartache.
His sister had remarried. Her three children now call Anzolo “father”. His own father had passed away, followed immediately by his mother. The truth is, nothing is holding him in Genoa anymore.
He takes another sip of wine, fingers drumming absent-mindedly against the table.
It’s pouring outside. Again. He can’t even remember the last time he saw the sun, always hidden behind slate curtains.
Not much to do, then, but think. Think and reminisce, of scorching heat and sand as far as the eye can see and Yusuf’s warm brown eyes.
Sometimes he wonders why he left, although he knows what had prompted that decision. That reality turned out to be completely different is another story altogether. That Yusuf deserves someone shining just as brightly as him does still stand.
A flash of light catches his attention, effectively drawing him out of his musings. He counts to four and right on cue, thunder cracks violently, rattling the entire house.
He sighs. Wonders how Yusuf feels about storms. Whether he flinches when the clouds roar or whether he steps outside, tilts his head backwards and lets himself get soaked. Whether his lips would taste any different.
He’s once again snapped out of his thoughts by the harsh sound of a chair scraping against the floor.
Bianca sits across from him and folds her hands neatly in her lap. For a long moment she just looks at him, an unreadable expression on her face.
He takes in the white hairs at her temples, the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth and wonders what she sees when she looks at him.
‘There is someone,’ she says suddenly, a ghost of a smile on her lips.
“Someone”. Not “a woman”. He could lie, but he’s never lied to her.
‘Yes.’
‘Name?’
He hesitates, but only slightly.
‘Yusuf.’
Her smile widens first, followed by her eyes.
‘Were you happy?’
This time, no hesitation.
‘Yes.’
‘Then why are you here?’
‘I am not sure,’ he chuckles.
‘I am happy,’ she says matter-of-factly. ‘I wish that for you too.’
‘That means I must go.’
‘Yes. Perhaps you can visit. I should like to meet your Yusuf sometime this life.’
Laughter mixes in with tears.
‘You will.’