Talk to Him, Anyway
I look at myself on my phone, watching it ring and waiting for Aiden to answer. We’ve been so busy and it’s been a long time since we’ve been able to catch up.
I told him a call wouldn’t be enough, and I needed to see his face.
The call connects, and his face fills the screen, his smile immediately warm. He looks a little grainy and I can tell he answered me on his laptop.
“Hey, baby,” Aiden greets me.
I can’t help the smile on my face; it hurts. “Hey. You look different.”
He shakes his head, his hair longer than the last time I saw him. “Trying a new look.”
I chuckle, and he adjusts the pillow at his back.
“How’s everything going? How’s Italy treating you?”
I grin even wider, feeling my heart ease just a little at the sight of him. “It’s good. Really good. I’m settled in, getting the hang of the language, the culture, the food. I got a job helping Elena around. I think it’s just her way of giving me money in a way where I don’t feel guilty about it.”
He laughs at that. “That sounds like you and that sounds like Elena.”
I shrug. “Living in another country can only change us so much.”
“What about your painting? How’s that coming along?”
I lean back in my chair, looking around at my tiny workspace in the studio. I look at the paintings I’ve finished as they lean against the walls, along with a few pieces I’ve started. There are some rough drafts, others are nearly complete.
“It’s getting there. I’m learning a lot, experimenting with new techniques and materials. Had to throw a few of them into the donation bin, but I think I’ve got
something here. I’ve even been networking a bit, talking with Elena about new ideas.”
Aiden nods, his eyes lighting up. “That’s awesome. Knowing the right people is like 90% of it. I’m glad she’s helping you out. It sounds like you’re really finding your stride.”
I smile, the sense of accomplishment making me feel a little stronger. “Yeah, I feel like I’m starting to find my voice here.”
“I knew you’d do well,” he says sincerely
I’m about to say something else when Aiden shifts his position, and I notice something in the background, a familiar window framed by a thick wooden frame.
I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.
“Wait,” I say, my heart skipping a beat. “Are you in Virginia?”
He grimaces, the expression fleeting but enough for me to know the anser. “Yeah.”
My heart rate picks up.
“I came for the weekend to visit Zaid.” His voice drops a little, like he’s hesitant to continue.
“Oh, why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, suddenly finding my fingers very interesting.
“I didn’t want to tell you because I know you two aren’t talking right now.”
I nod, feeling a lump form in my throat, but I don’t want to let it show. I glance at the clock, and then back at Aiden, my heart a strange mixture of relief and nervousness.
“Can I talk to him, anyway?” I ask quietly, almost as if the words themselves might break something inside of me.
Aiden thinks for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, I’ll walk you over.”
He picks up his laptop, the camera following his movement as he crosses the room. I hear him knock on a door.
A moment later, Zaid answers, and my heart lurches as I catch the flash of his familiar eyes through the screen. His expression shifts from mild surprise to something I can’t quite place before he steps forward, taking the laptop from Aiden’s hands without a word. He disappears from the frame, the sound of a door closing softly behind him.
The light shifts, and then I can see him clearly.
He’s staring at the screen, his eyes locked on mine, his expression unreadable for a beat. My breath hitches in my throat as I take in the sight of him. His face is a little sharper, like he’s been working out a lot. The lines of his jaw are more defined, but he’s growing a bit of a beard. My fingers twitch to touch the screen, but I stay still, my gaze drinking him in.
“Hey,” I whisper, almost unable to speak. “I like the beard.”
He runs a hand over his chin, a soft smile curling on his lips. “Glad you like it.”
He stares at me for a long moment, his expression softening as he takes in every inch of me. I blush like I’m meeting him for the first time all over again.
“You look beautiful, love.”
I blink rapidly, overwhelmed by his attention. I forget what it’s like to be in the face of his intensity. The tears spill over before I can stop them.
“I miss you,” I whisper, my voice breaking as I struggle to keep my composure.
“Oh, fuck,” he mutters. “Don’t cry, love, please don’t cry.”
The pained look in his eyes has me reeling in my emotions. “I’m okay. I’m happy here. I’m learning so much.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his face unreadable as he looks at me. “That’s good, right?”
I nod and take a shaky breath, fighting the emotions swirling inside me. I search his face, looking for something, anything. “Are you forgetting me? Are you getting used to not having me there?”
Zaid’s expression shifts then, the sadness in his eyes giving way to something warm, something steady. He shakes his head slowly.
“No,” he murmurs, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
I want to reach into the screen and kiss him.
“I’m here, waiting for you, like I promised. I’m doing my own work. Therapy, all of it. I keep myself busy because otherwise I’d lose my mind thinking about you.”
I smile because I know what he means. I do the same thing. I feel a wave of relief crash over me. My heart lightens, the pain of the distance between us suddenly more bearable.
“How’s it going?” I ask quietly, needing to know that he’s really okay.
He exhales softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s going. Slow. Therapy has been brutal, but I’m finally talking about things I used to keep in. And I finally took your advice. I think I’m going to start my own company.”
I listen to him without interruption. His happiness is mine. His growth is mine.
We talk for hours after that. He listens as I tell him about my experiences, the people I’ve met, the small moments of peace I’ve found in Florence. And in return, he shares his thoughts, his own struggles, and his progress.
The conversation drifts into the night, the words slowing until I feel my eyelids growing heavy. I yawn, trying to keep myself awake, but it’s useless.
Not to mention I still have to find my way back to the villa.
Zaid notices, frowning. “It’s late there?”
I nod. “I’m 6 hours ahead of you.”
His eyes go to the clock on the corner of the laptop. “Shit. Get some sleep.”
I don’t want to. When are we going to talk again?
He smiles at my expression. “I’ll call you in 50 days.”
My heart lifts and I smile, nodding. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
And with that, we say our goodbyes and hang up.
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