To The Curb
Luc parks on a hill facing San Gimignano. He turns the engine off, and we stare at the full, gigantic moon suspended over the medieval city. Moonlight is spilling over the towers and walls like liquid gold, splashing its shimmery brilliance over the hills and valleys. It’s a scene straight out of a fairy tale.
Luc’s silence is the spoiler. I know how this story is going to end, and it’s not going to be happily ever after.
Luc clears his throat.
I turn to look at him, and my heart doesn’t flip. It lurches. Goodbye is written all over his handsome face.
“Just one question, Vivia.” He smiles sadly. “Why?”
I remember what Chantal told me about Celine, how she lied to Luc about many, many things, how she broke his heart. She was false and faithless. Luc thinks I have been false and faithless with Simone.
“Luc, Simone gave me a ride in his truck, nothing more. I promise.”
“You think I am jealous? Is that what you think?”
I nod.
“I’m not jealous, Vivia. I don’t think anything happened between you and the Italian.”
“Then what is it?”
Luc looks back at the moon. I study his profile, memorizing every angle and shadow, collecting one last snapshot of him. When he looks back at me, I brace myself for the blow.
“I’m disappointed.”
Ouch! His words are like an uppercut to the heart.
“I’m sorry.”
“You could have told me you didn't want to ride. Why didn't you just tell me the truth?”
I didn't want you to stop liking me. It sounds so pre-teen, but I can’t think of any other way to say it.
“I didn’t want you to stop liking me,” I whisper, staring at my lap. “I’ve finished every ride dead last. I didn’t want you to think I was completely hopeless.”
“Isn't that what you did with your ex-fiancé?”
I look at Luc in confusion.
“You pretended to be something you weren’t, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“How did that work for you?”
Ouch. Again. First the uppercut to my heart and now a sucker punch. I’m too stunned, too ashamed to speak, so I just stare at him with tear filled eyes.
Luc shakes his head.
“Honestly, I expected more from you. I thought what happened with Edwards would have taught you the importance of being genuine. I thought you were confident enough to be yourself, but I guess I was wrong. Who are you? Really?”
He’s killing me. Kill. Ling. Me.
“Who am I?” I say, tears spilling onto my cheeks. “I’m Vivia Perpetua Grant, unemployed, homeless, frightened, insecure. I’m not as perfect as you. I can’t speak multiple languages, or sail a boat, or conduct basic automotive repairs, or cycle long distances.”
There’s a long, painful pause while Luc stares at me like he’s never seen me before. Tears are dripping off my nose, but the last vestiges of my pride won’t let me wipe them away.
“I never expected you to be perfect, Vivia,” Luc says, turning the key in the ignition. “Just honest.”
And there it is: the knock-out blow.
I want to tell Luc that I have been honest with him, painfully, embarrassingly honest. My Poggibonsi prank was just that—a prank. It didn’t really mean anything. Did it?
Luc throws the van into reverse. I take a last look at San Gimignano glowing in the golden moonlight like a mirage, shimmering and then finally fading away. Is that what’s happened to Luc’s feelings for me? Did they burn bright and fade away?
We don’t talk on the way back to the Agriturismo. Luc stares at the road, his jaw clenched, his lips pressed together in a grim line. I look out the window and hear a playlist of sad break-up songs in my head. I play Christina Perri’s “Distance” over and over, especially the part about broken heartbeats. My chest aches with my own broken heartbeats.
Broken heartbeats are all I have left to give. I sound melodramatic, don’t I? I’ve only known Luc for two weeks. It’s not like I’m in love with him.
But if I’m not in love with him, why do I feel as if I have been shattered into a million jagged pieces that can never be put back together again?
Luc turns into the Agriturismo’s private drive, follows it around the hamlet, and pulls to a stop in front of the castle. He gets out, comes around the car, and opens my door for me.
There’s nothing for me to do but grab my shoes and get out.
“Bonne nuit, Luc.”
“Bonne nuit, Vivia.”
He gets back into the van and drives away, leaving me standing on the curb holding my muddy cycling shoes to my chest.