A Veil of Glass and Rain Read Online Free PDF Page A

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 biggest 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