fade into you
You live your life, you go in shadows
You'll come apart, and you'll go black
Some kind of night into your darkness
Colors your eyes with what's not there
Fade into you
Strange you never knew
Fade into you
I think it's strange you never knew
A page with the smell of an old book, a speck of dust creeping through the long shelves of the room. A window ajar, the soft summer breeze whipping the curtains. Lily can't quite imagine herself being anywhere else, in the July sun. That's the way it's been all her life, and will be until she dies, of that she is quite sure.
Maybe her purpose in this world is to know and take that to her grave. There are some people who are made to share, but Lily knows very well that she is very good at keeping things quiet. Maybe somewhere there is someone who is willing to listen to them all, but not here, in this small village, under this sun, not at this time or any other.
And really, it doesn't bother her.
Being alone is not the same as being lonely, even if there is a fine line between them. But that line is quite blurred, and, at this point, almost unrecognisable. Still, Lily doesn't think she's crossed it.
Or she may not have realised it.
...
There is a beep. Lily puts the book down on the bed, but not before turning the corner of the page - her mom hates it when she does that.
She leans against the window frame, looking towards the car, from which suitcases are being unloaded. She sees her father opening the gate, and the dark-haired girl pushing the car from behind, pulling it up the hill. She watches her for a few seconds before deciding to go down the driveway.
"Oh, don't worry, this happens quite a lot" her father gives the bonnet of the car a couple of taps, and it makes a sound very similar to a whine. "These roads... Welcome to Italy!"
The girl laughs, wiping her forehead. She pushes some curls away from her face, which also fall down her back. Never having seen such curly hair, Lily is a little envious.
She leans against the door, next to her father, and he wraps his arms around her shoulders.
"My daughter, Lily," he introduces her, taking this as a cue to step forward and place two kisses on both her cheeks, hers are very warm and she immediately feels her lips adjust to the temperature.
"Mary Macdonald" she replies, looking into her eyes. Oh, so she's that type. Those who dare to hold her gaze. Lily has never liked those kind of people. They scare her.
"Yeah, I know. Nice to meet you" she points towards her. "The weather's a bit different to London, I guess."
"Oh, yeah, I've noticed." she smiles a little, just enough to show her dimples.
"You'll get used to it eventually, Non preoccuparti!" her father folds his arms. "It's the same for everyone the first few days, suppose there isn't a day of sunshine in Britain!"
Lily follows them onto the terrace without a word. She watches from a distance with curiosity as she moves, with that subtlety and naturalness so typical of those who are born for other people, those who have a gift, the kind who don't have to make an effort to show themselves as they really are.
Their gazes meet for only a few moments, because Lily found herself staring. Her jet-blue eyes bore into her, Lily, self-absorbed, swallows.
"Caro? I was wondering if it would be all right for you to accompany Mary into town?" her father asks. Lily comes to her senses.
"Sure, we can go tomorrow" this time she turns to Mary, she doesn't look away. She never does.
"You can take your sister's bike" he waves his hand, in turn, he walks in the back door Anchise, carrying some of the suitcases into the room. "Lasciali lì, non succede niente."
Mary approaches Anchise, helping him carry the suitcases between apologies in somewhat strangely accented Italian, Lily can sense the syllables softening in her throat.
"Well, I should get some sleep. The flight has been exhausting." she smiles, leaning slightly by the staircase. "Thank you for everything, Mr. Evans."
"No, please, call me Alessandro."
She simply smiles again. None of the residents have ever called him by his first name, and she certainly won't be the first. Lily still doesn't quite understand her father's eagerness to get acquainted with strangers.
Her footsteps are lost in the creak of the stairs and she disappears behind them, Lily following at a slow pace. She stands with her arms linked behind her back on the door of the room. The one that only moments ago had been hers, the duvets still dishevelled and a book on the bed. She picks it up and moulds the sheets a little before turning to Mary, who is beginning to put her clothes away in the dresser drawers.
"We have to share the bathroom, I'll be in the guest room," she explains, pointing to the wooden door in front. "If you need anything, you know, i'll be there."
Mary, still on her knees, turns in on herself, before nodding her head. Lily forces herself to hold her gaze, as if fighting a duel. Her eyes, in addition to a dark shade of jet, also have honey-coloured glints in them. Lily discovers new details every time she looks into them.
She rises from the floor a few seconds later, preening her knees before lying flat on the bed, sinking the mattress with a thud. Her arms stretch out, clutching the pillow and letting out a loud yawn, which makes Lily's eyes fill with tears too.
And there she is, the silence, the windows still open, and her body on the bed, as if it were her own room. Mary rests her head, her freckles flaunting under a ray of sunlight streaming through the glass and the corners of her lips slightly upturned.
"Let me know when dinner's ready, please. Later!"
And a few minutes later she is completely asleep, her breath coming down and rising slightly. Her long curls tucked under the covers.
Lily stands still, blinking a couple of times before stepping out and closing the door, unimpressed, or perhaps, perplexed enough to freeze.
There's something inside her that resonates with anger. It's not even something important enough to be worth mentioning. But, the way she says goodbye, the way she announces "later!" so nonchalantly, that word that means see you later, that word that isn't even a goodbye, but a see you then, gets on her nerves.
Lily wonders if, after those three weeks, when their paths part, she'll just say that, with that goofy smile on her lips and that twinkle in her pupils.
...
"Stai andando fuori?" asks Matilda from the kitchen, through the gap in the wall separating the terrace.
Lily heads for the courtyard, but not before saying goodbye to the woman, giving her a quick squeeze.
"I'll be back! " she announces, taking her leg off the bike and walking it down the stony driveway. "Ciao Matilda!"
The sky begins to darken as she starts pedalling. The early morning heat dissipates over the course of the day and the sunset bathes the pores of her skin, while the leaves of the trees create shadows on the ground.
It doesn't take Lily long to reach the square. She parks her bike on the ground and sits down on a metal chair under the umbrella of the bar. She says hello to a few of her father's friends, before heading inside to order a pitcher of sangria. Some old men at the bar, who were playing cards, have put on a Loredana Bertè vinyl, which has been well received by the other men chatting at the tables next to them. Lily finds herself tapping her fingertips against the table, keeping up. She is lifting a sip from the glass to her lips when she notices a pinch to her head.
"Ciao Lil!" his voice serene and warm, and suddenly, a body slides into the chair next to her.
Lily leans on her chin, smiling. Her eyes shining brightly, watching the tall boy in front of her. His olive skin, his hair turning golden from the sun, the scar on his nose barely visible.
There's something about Remus's presence that reassures her and makes her feel safe, at home. Maybe that's what best friends make you feel, that sense of calm and pure happiness. It's been like that for many years, about six, ever since Remus's father had rented a house for the summer. Or so she has assumed, because Lily has never actually seen Remus's father. And he himself has never denied anything. Remus never talks about his family, and Lily is smart enough to know that there are boundaries she shouldn't overstep and that, in turn, her friend doesn't want to be asked either.
"The boys and I are going to Pandino later," Remus announces, pulling a cigarette out of a pack and offering it to Lily.
Lily puts it in her mouth and waits for the boy to light it. Then he lights one for himself. They both inhale the smoke and hold it in their throats, then exhale at almost the same time.
"I see, your other friends. You have so abandoned me, Remus," she smiles, as the smoke dissipates into the air.
Remus kicks her shin under the table.
"Coglione," he spits under his breath, throwing his head back as he lets smoke rings billow over their heads. "Are you coming?"
"I don't know," snorts Lily, taking another couple of puffs, her shoulders tense. "I wouldn't want to interrupt, well, whatever you're going to do."
"Lily," Remus is staring at her now, with those big almond eyes of his. "You're her friend too."
The vinyl comes to an end, and, amidst the murmurs and langoustines, claims and complaints are raised.
"I know, don't be stupid, of course I know." She fixes her gaze on the starry sky. "It's just... sometimes it's weird."
"Is it because of James?" asks Remus, leaning forward. "I can tell him to stop bothering you."
James. The boy she's known forever. Ever since they were little, he didn't hesitate for an instant to claim his love for her, albeit always with a laugh. One summer, when they all went swimming in that river near Pandino, James backed her into a corner, and, for the first time, at the age of thirteen, he confessed it, without a hint of amusement in his eyes, and, in that moment, was when Lily realised that this was real.
She may have been too young to understand it yet, because Lily certainly didn't get the feelings James was talking about.
Lack of maturity was not a problem, because, even to this day, Lily still doesn't.
Since then, some five years later, that cycle that had begun innocently enough has repeated itself. James doesn't look at her like he did then, with that glow in his pupils, that blush in his cheeks. Now, he professes his love like a poet, raving, but always with laughter.
"It's not that," Lily replies, entwining the cigarette between her fingers. "Since Marlene left, I'm the only one. Do you understand, Remus? I'm not one of the boys, I'm just that, a girl."
Lily watches as Remus stubs his cigarette butt out against the ashtray. The silence, static, dies down amidst the sounds of the crowd.
"Are you uncomfortable with us?" he asks, rolling a cigarette by hand, barely looking at her. The tone of his voice, monotone, always seeming to have everything under control, reflects his true feelings, because, after all Lily knows him too well, and she knows he's hurting.
Lily hates making him feel that way.
"We've grown up, and there are some things we're very different now. It's no one's fault, Remus, and it's not even a big deal, it's just... I wanted to let it out." there's a pause, and a small smile breaks out on Lily's lips. "And you're a good listener, you always have been."
Lily's smile rubs off on Remus, and they both enjoy each other's company in silence.
Lily doesn't get to say what she's feeling very often, sometimes only when she notices the alcohol slowing her senses, and everything else, and other times, she's not even sure what she's thinking at all.
But with Remus it's usually easier - he makes her see that what she feels matters, and she does the same for him. Lily can't number the countless nights at this very table that they've shared, sometimes until dawn, talking nonstop. Lily is surprised by how much can be said about everything.
"Growing up, that bothers me," Remus snorts, rising from the chair, which creaks under the stony floor with a squeak, the boy offers her his hand. "Keeps putting up barriers for us."
Lily accepts it, rising from her seat.
"Maybe all we need is to be fifteen again." she laughs.
"Don't get all nostalgic on me, sorella." Remus lights another cigarette as they walk, bike aside.
Sometimes Lily wishes she'd been born a boy.
...
The lights in Lily's old room are on when they finally reach the house. Remus looks up, curious.
"Has your father's pupil come yet?" he questions, cocking his head to one side.
Lily nods, parking the bike on the porch.
"What's she like?"
Lily doesn't even know what to think about her, there's a cloudy void where she's concerned.
"Oh, you know," she replies, mockingly. "She has horrible Italian, and she fell asleep as soon as I showed her her room, literally, she fell asleep in front of me."
Remus laughs.
"You could bring her to the village fete tomorrow."
She frowns, though she knows perfectly well why Remus is proposing that.
"Maybe."
Lily says goodbye to her parents before heading up to her room. She takes the steps two at a time, trying to make as little noise as possible. When she reaches her room, the lights in Mary's room are already off. Before she closes the bathroom door, which overlooks her bed, she keeps her eyes fixed on her long curly hair and calm expression.
...
The peach trees in the garden are beginning to bear fruit, and Anchise sets about picking them with dedication. He puts them in a wicker basket, leaving them on the breakfast table.
Lily reaches across it, reaching for one of the peaches and then pops it into her mouth, watching out of the corner of her eye as Mary, looking tired, sits down.
"Tutto bene? They told me you went out last night?" her father questions, looking up from the paper.
She keeps her gaze fixed on her cup of coffee, stirring it slowly, the corners of her lips curling up a little lightly.
"Oh, yeah, a bit late," her curls tangled in a high bun and her cheeks pale.
She cracks the shell of an egg with her spoon and takes another sip of coffee, which gives off a fume in its wake.
Her mother offers her the basket, focused on her cigarette, the trail of which mingles with that of the ground coffee beans.
Mary shakes her head.
"I know myself, and if I eat another one, I'll end up eating two more."
Lily has never heard anyone her age say that before. I know myself. She finds it strange, and irritable, too. She doesn't notice herself squeezing the fruit too hard, the juice slipping through her fingers.
"Are you still on for going into town?" her father asks, setting the half-moon glasses aside on the table, turning to both of them.
"That would be nice. I have some manuscripts to pick up," she hears the girl say. Lily notices how her huge blackened eyes settle on her, as if demanding. "Grazie mille."
Lily takes this as a signal to get up. She approaches her parents and plants a kiss on their cheeks, before walking to the entrance of the gate. The bicycles are leaning against the stone wall. She hears Mary's uneven footsteps, and the click of her heels on the flagstones. She hands her one of the bikes, before sitting down on the saddle and tucking her bag over her blouse.
The ride to Crema is silent, occasionally interrupted by the sound of the stream and the chirping of cicadas. It's barely ten o'clock in the morning, but the heat is beginning to take over and the breeze from the wind stops. Dumbfounded, Lily drives quickly to the square and parks the bike, sitting on the fountain step in the shade while she waits for Mary to come out of the print shop.
She sighs, pulling out the pack of cigarettes and popping one in her mouth. Remus has accustomed her to this habit, the one that keeps her from being empty-handed.
The bakery bells ring, and before she can even get to light her cigarette, someone steps forward, sitting down next to her and raising his own. James Potter redirects his smouldering flame and the smoke mixes. Lily can tell how the boy is trying to stop himself from coughing, his eyes glazed over, behind his round spectacles.
"Buongiorno! What's up, Evans?" James has one of those smiles, the one where he shows each and every one of his teeth, wide, his cheeks rising at the same time. His charisma never leaves anyone indifferent.
Lily tries to hide her surprise. She hadn't expected to run into any of the boys so soon, considering they'd been out partying the night before, presumably, according to Anchise's groans and those of everyone in the village. Remus must probably be drowning in his own vomit, and with a splitting headache.
But James Potter isn't. Of course he isn't. James never has a hangover.
"Very early riser, Potter," Lily lets out a puff, turning to him.
The boy blinks a few times, smiling to himself.
"Same here," it doesn't take long for him to step on the butt, still lit. Never lasting more than three puffs, Lily knows James hates tobacco. Why does he keep doing it? That's something that can apply to so many things, including herself. Everyone does things they hate, for one reason or another. "Why didn't you come yesterday?"
Lili takes a few seconds to answer, hesitant.
"Tired."
The boy, toasty in the sun, nods unconvinced.
"Are you coming today? We're going swimming" the glint in his eyes dazzles as much as the light, Lily has to squint her own to avoid blinding herself.
He doesn't give her time to give an answer. James jumps up, rising from the step and holds up his hand, waving goodbye. His chestnut curls melting into the landscape.
"Arrivederci!"
See you later, is an expression so much like later, but, instead, in this Lily can assure a see you, if or if, in a near, if inconclusive, time. But later, later is just a painless way of saying goodbye.
Lily keeps her eyes fixed straight ahead, slightly confused. James's glare still instilled in her retina.
Her heart skips a beat. Maybe she's imagining it, or maybe thinking about it too much. Lily doesn't even know that just happened at all.
"Hello?" a deep voice interrupts her thoughts. The dark haired girl stands in front of her, waving her hands. She must have come out of the copy shop.
Lily blinks a couple of times, before raising her head and meeting the line of her gaze. She purses her lips and frowns, almost without thinking, as if by reflex.
...
"Well, what does one do around here?" her velvety smile, sweeping her eyes across the wide stone houses of Crema.
She has oval sunglasses, which she puts on nonchalantly, balancing them on her finger. Lily watches her bite the tip of her tongue as she fiddles with the frame.
"Nothing. Wait for the summer to end," she replies, looking down at the ground. Mary's steps are much wider than hers, almost seeming to prance.
Mary stops suddenly in front of her, Lily, distracted, stumbles forward. The girl catches her just in time, gripping her shoulders tightly. Perhaps too tightly, the fabric of her blouse folds in on itself. Mary takes a few seconds to let go, taking a step back and mumbling apologies, sounding, truly and without a hint of irony, very apologetic. Lily finds this somewhat amusing. Amidst silent laughter, Mary returns
to observing the architecture of the town, in her touristy way, and Lily concentrates on the ground.
"And what do you do?" she continues, turning slightly to look at her with interest.
Lily stretches out her arms.
"I don't know, read, have a drink, go to the river, go out at night."
Mary cuts off the conversation, nodding her head slightly, self-absorbed. They return to the square and quietly pick up their bikes.
The girl pulls ahead, pedalling towards the exit, before exclaiming:
"Later!"
Lily is left behind, alone on the landing, a nagging pain in her chest.