The Long Trip Home: Archives

The alarm clock woke us both at 3 in the morning. I had not slept well all night—waking every hour and looking over at the clock to see if it was time to get up yet. Every time I sighed with relief, seeing we had 3 more hours of sleep, then 2 more, then 1. It was now only half an hour until Russ's train departed for Rome, where he was going to catch a plane and fly back home to Indiana. I, on the other hand, would be staying here in Italy for 2 more months. Now, at 3 in the morning the day of his departure, the thought of 2 more months without him seemed intolerable.

We got up and dressed, and he packed up the remainder of his things. I watched him, collecting the few moments we had before his train left: his face, tired and soft in the dim light; his hands, abrupt and white as he pulled the zipper on his bag. He kissed my forehead, and I knew it was time for us to go. I finished tying my shoes and followed him out of the room, down to the lobby, and out the door.

"I'm going to miss you so much," I told him, loudly now, since we were alone on the quick, cold walk up to the train station. "I want to come back with you. "

"I know, " he said. He squeezed my fingers between his own. In the sky we could see the constellations we now knew by memory, grateful for the fact that despite the distance, these same stars were visible in both Italy and Indiana. He looked at me as we walked, and he smiled. "This week has been wonderful. "

I doubted it had been a whole week, the way it had passed like water, quick and invisible. But I nodded anyway. It was the middle of January in Italy, and we had spent the past week in Macerata where I was living. We visited the Adriatic coast, too. I skipped my morning classes to walk with Russ through Civitanova, with the soft beach beneath us. In Macerata, we climbed the old, stonewall tower past the main piazza where we could look over the whole city and imagine it was ours, magnificent as Rome or Venice in the starlight. In the days to come, I would walk through the small town of Macerata and be reminded with every step of Russ beside me, holding my hand and laughing with me. But now, walking up the hill to a train station in the darkest Italian night I had seen so far, we still had a few minutes together.

I don't remember what else we said, except that finally we were there at the station, and the train was quickly approaching. The neon lights of the station flooded both our faces, making us appear white and empty. I started to cry a little. Russ kissed me and held on to me for a moment before the train stopped and he had to board.

"I love you! " I said so loudly it was almost a shout—if there were people around us, I didn't notice. Russ grinned and replied with his own I love yous. I helped him push his luggage on board and held his hand from the platform, wishing he would pull me on board after him and I could forget this night and the loneliness I knew I would face as soon as the train pulled away. We kissed, and the train door closed. We watched each other as he pulled his bags to a seat and sat down. We blew kisses as the train grunted and began to pull away. I waved frantically, keeping my eyes on the train's path for quite a few minutes until its outline had faded in the distance.

On the walk back to my room, I couldn't help but look up at the sky's darkness, not blue like it had been every night before but black and buttoned with white stars. Orion's belt shone above me, and I smiled. Russ was probably watching the same sky, the same stars, as he sat on a train bound for Rome. And he was probably thinking of me. It was my only comfort that night. I made a wish, and then I looked back to the path and the lamplights shining amid shadows on the sidewalk. This really is Italy, I thought, and I am on my own. I pulled my coat tight and quickened my step back to an empty room.