Wanderlove Part 32

"Just promise me something?" Victor asked me suddenly.

"Anything."

"Should your memories reoccur, let us know immediately. Let me be the first person you call. Don't wait for our readers to pick up on your thoughts. Surely, by then it will have been too late."

"Of course," I breathed. "I'll call you first, before anyone. You have my word."

Victor smiled. "Good," he said. "But let's hope that doesn't ever have to happen. For everyone's sake."

THIRTY-NINE.

The quiet hum of the background noise in Henri Coanda Airport was like a balm for my previously chaotic senses. It wasn't busy today- an added bonus. Very few travelers roamed the otherwise empty hallways. Most people walked with ease, nothing rus.h.i.+ng them. I suppose Wednesday afternoons didn't bring in much traffic.

The weather was also in alignment with the aura of the airport. It was dreary and rainy, almost gloomy-like. But although the dismal scene seemed bleak, there was some nameless energy in Terminal C which enchanted me. I felt excited, giddy. Like the world seemed full of great possibilities once again. Or, I don't know, maybe my reaction had simply been born from the feeling of going somewhere.

Christo leaned down to kiss the top of my head. The gesture seemed very fatherly. It stuck out to me, but in a nice way. Christo had never been one to be "fatherly."

"Are you sure this is really what you want?"

"Yes." I nodded to reaffirm my statement. "It feels right."

He shook his head for the hundredth time in disbelief. "Clearwater, eh? I figured if you ever did stick around in one place for a while, it would be somewhere exciting. The gulf coast doesn't even bring in good waves."

I smiled, amused by his shock over my decision.

"This isn't about the Constantin, is it?" He nodded his head in Gabe's direction. I turned to view Gabe a couple of rows away from me. He was leaned back in his chair with his hat pulled down over his eyes, sleeping.

I turned back to my father. "No, it's not about Gabe," I answered, sighing. "I wish it could be so simple."

"Then what is it about?" he asked.

I shrugged. "It just feels right, I guess."

He shook his head, confused, slightly dismayed, but ultimately accepting it for what it was.

"I'll never fully understand you, Lo. No matter how long I've known you, you always manage to dumbfound me."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Nope. I guess it's why I love you. I think I'm supposed to learn something from you. Maybe that's why we've been eternally linked."

I smiled. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, kiddo."

He hugged me once more and then he left, disappearing down the white-washed hallways. My mood turned a little morose after he walked out of my line of vision. My father was gone for good. I wondered when I would ever see him again.

Gabe, Cam and I proceeded to check-in through security a while later. Soon, we were all on board our plane. Gabe gave me the window seat and Cam took the aisle. I suppose it was good that I was beside Gabe. There were things I needed to say. I only hoped I could figure out a way to verbalize them.

Cam almost immediately fell asleep after takeoff. Gabe mentioned plane rides always knocked him out. It was a perfect opportunity to say the things that needed to be said. But for some reason, we kept dodging the important issues. Instead we only spoke about random topics.

"Where are your parents?"

I think my question surprised Gabe, or maybe caught him off-guard. But he answered me without questioning the source of my curiosity.

"My father died when I was young. I don't remember much about him. My mother is alive and well. She visits every now and then. Or we'll sometimes visit her."

"Where is she?"

"She lives amongst one of the troupes. She won't give up that life. It's too hard for her to stay in one place." Gabe paused because the plane flew through some turbulence.

I looked up to see the fasten seat belt sign had been turned on and I waited for the trembles to come to an end.

I suddenly felt Gabe's hand grasp mine. I looked down, noticing I'd been clenching the arms of the seat.

"Nervous?" he asked me.

"No," I promptly replied, but I didn't pull my hand away from his. The turbulence eventually came to end, thankfully, and I relaxed against my seat.

He seemed amused, for whatever reason, and this annoyed me.

"I know what you're thinking and I'm not afraid of flying," I informed him.

"I wasn't thinking that at all."

"Well. . .good."

A few moments pa.s.sed quietly before either of us said anything again.

"She adored you, you know."

"Your mother?" I asked.

He nodded. "I've known her for several lifetimes. She isn't always my mother, but she is always closely related somehow. A sister, an aunt. . .she's always been there. And anyway, the two of you got along famously."

I smiled now. I had often wondered if things would have been different had my mother lived into an old age, and what it would have been like having her around. I wondered if Christo would have been at all different.

"Is she the same mother whom the Royals murdered?" The question surprised both of us because it was clear I'd remembered that information from another lifetime. Gabe hadn't mentioned it to me in this one.

"Yes," he said solemnly. "She died at their hands, which is why she keeps her ident.i.ty a secret to this day."

"I vaguely remember you telling me that she was powerful."

"It's true. She has a very strong instinct. In fact, I've never seen anyone who compares, not even your Aunt Zetta. I think my mother even knew she would be murdered long before the actual crime was committed."

"Then why didn't she stop it from happening?"

"I don't know. She would never tell me and she still doesn't like to talk about it. But truthfully, I believe it's because she wanted Baro and me to get out. I think she wants the Royal families separated."

"That's really strange," I noted.

"Yeah. I guess so. I don't know why she wanted us separated, but knowing my mother, there's a reason for everything she does."

For a moment, Gabe seemed far away, lost in thought. I wasn't sure if I should keep asking him about such a sensitive subject, but he didn't seem uncomfortable- only pensive. And I was really, really curious.

"She has a theory, you know," Gabe spoke again a few moments later. He was looking at me now; his dark gray eyes were fixed on mine. "About why gypsies are the way they are. Do you want to hear it?"

"Sure," I replied.

"Most gypsies think we're blessed, especially the Royals. But she doesn't think so. She thinks we're cursed."

Intrigued now, I asked, "How so?"

"Think about it. You probably know of wealthy gypsies. But do you know of any that are renowned? Do you know any gypsies who became famous leaders? Presidents? Scientists? Do you know any famous writers, actors, singers?"

I contemplated on it, searching my mind for someone I knew who'd received any of the t.i.tles he mentioned.

"My friend Lina is a belly dancer," I pointed out. "She has over a million hits on YouTube."

He shook his head. "Bigger than that, Lo. Can you think of a gypsy whose name will be remembered throughout the ages?"

"I guess not," I said, giving up.

"It's because we are an apathetic people. We don't care about life the way normal people do. Normal people strive to solve the next big equation, creating technology or writing the next great novel. But we don't strive for anything. We all know we'll just end up dying and the cycle will start all over again. We don't care about leaving legacies."

I thought about what he'd said. I guess in a way, he was right.

"Then what are we doing here?" I asked him.

"That's the big question. And that's why we're cursed. We go through life searching for the meaning of it all. We wander aimlessly, headed for the next place or person who might give us some answers. I would say it's wanderl.u.s.t that drives us, but I don't think that's the right word." I watched as his eyes grew hazy. "No...I think it's more of a wander-love. In a way, we understand what's most important. In a way, normal people don't see the world as clearly as we do. But then again, they haven't been as jaded, either."

I frowned. "That's kind of sad."

"It's our burden to bear," he told me. "My mother believes there is a reason we carry it. And it's another reason why I agreed to let you go on with your lives, without remembering who you are. I wanted you to feel the small thrills of life."

"I think it was there, anyway," I admitted. "Nothing fazes me. I never wanted to forget anything, especially you."

Something flashed in Gabe's eyes, but he quickly looked away.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out as I had hoped."

"Don't be," I said and placed my hand over his. The touch startled us both and he stared at our hands. I quickly took mine back and breathed in a deep breath.

I hadn't even thought about my actions as they were happening. Reaching for Gabe's hand came so naturally. Like I'd done it a million times.

I knew I couldn't keep pretending in front of him. Pretending I didn't miss him after a century apart. Pretending I didn't love him...pretending I could exist without him. I wished I were brave enough to tell him that. Instead, I merely closed my eyes and let myself fall asleep.

Later, I awoke with my head crooked into Gabe's shoulder, his arm around me. We were landing. I lifted my head and drew myself away from him again. I wondered if it was the last time I'd ever touch or speak to him again.

FORTY.

I was groggy while walking up the porch steps to my grandmother's beach house. The long plane ride had left me really jetlagged. At the same time, it felt nice coming back to Clearwater. There were things I hadn't realized I would miss so much. Like the roar of the ocean waves, the salt in the air, the breezes...I guessed that meant this was becoming home to me now.

Home.

It was such a strange word.

"So, how long are you staying for this time?"

Miriam was waiting by the door. It was barely seven o'clock in the morning, but she'd known my flight would arrive this early. I'd called and left her a voicemail about it yesterday.

I was a little intimidated by the prospect of facing her. I wasn't exactly sure how she would react to my coming back here.

"Actually, I'd like to stay permanently- if that's okay with you."

I watched as the corners of my grandmother's mouth curved into a sly smile. In that one small smile, all my fears were immediately put to rest. "I like that idea," she told me. "Of course, you'll have to go back to school."

I gave her a little salute. "Straight away."

She nodded. "Okay, then, it's settled."

"Thanks, Grams."

"Child, you don't have to thank me for something you never had to ask me for in the first place."

I smiled back at her. It suddenly occurred to her to ask me, "So, Christo is okay with you being here?"

"Well, he isn't exactly thrilled by the idea. But amazingly, he's letting me make this choice for myself."

"Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned."

"I know, right? He's almost a decent and respectable person now. He said being in jail gave him 'perspective.'"

My grandmother snorted. "I wouldn't go that far. Your father can put his boots in the oven, but that don't make 'em biscuits."

It was way too early in the morning to try to understand Miriam's idioms, so I just smiled and we walked inside.