The Things You Make Me Feel Ch. 03

"I made a commitment to a certain lady that come morning I'd be taking her to a cycling trip in the beautiful countryside outdoors. It's going to be tiring and—"

"I'm in."

"You didn't even let me finish. It's gonna take up your entire day, so you should—"

"I don't care." She gazed into his brown eyes, slowly losing herself. "I'm in."

He looked back into her breathtaking blue eyes in equal intent, his heart racing, before whispering in unsteady voice, "I'm so in love with you, Ellie."

"I'm so in love with you back, Oliver."

***

"Papino! Wait for Michela!"

Oliver stopped paddling, laughing so hard. He looked over his shoulder. "Principessa, you don't need to call yourself by name. I know who you are."

Michela caught up to him on her bicycle of the Frozen sisters, Elsa and Anna, a matching helmet on her head. The sky-blue bicycle was stabilized with training wheels, and fixed to the handlebar was a small Elsa-Anna bag that she had loaded with gummy bears and toffees earlier this morning.

She was huffing and puffing by the time she reached him, her face flushed with anger. "Ho detto di aspettare per me!" (I told you to wait for me!).

"Baby, io che non era lontano. Non devi—" (Baby, I wasn't that far away. You don't need—).

"Eri troppo lontano! Ho potuto a malapena vedere te, Papino!" (You were too far away! I could barely see you, Daddy!).

"Hai ragione," (You're right) Oliver quickly sighed. "Non farlo più. Ti prego perdonami, piccola mia," (I won't do that again. Please forgive me, baby).

Michela snagged a couple of toffees from her handlebar bag and chewed on them with a smile. "Ora avete a prendere me per gelato," (Now you have to take me for ice cream).

"Did I just hear the word 'gelato' flying around?" Ellie said, returning from her phone call interlude, looking like a bona fide model.

Oliver stifled a laugh at Ellie and looked back at Michela, doing his best at feigning anger. "We haven't even had lunch, and you're planning a stop for ice cream? I don't know... sounds like you've been planning it all along."

Michela burst out laughing, the way little children do whenever their devious master-plan had been unraveled. It was music to Oliver's ears, his daughter's laughter.

"I just waited for you to do something that made me angry, so I could make you take me for gelato," she kindly unveiled the complexity of her heinous scheme before snatching a helpless gummy bear from her princesses' bag.

"Well then..." Oliver took his time to appear thoughtful. "I did make you angry."

"You did!" Michela was anxious to confirm. "You did, Papino. You made me very angry."

"Then I guess... alright. We'll have gelato. Later," he quickly added when noticing Michela had already begun her celebrations. "After we've had a healthy lunch."

"Sì! Te lo prometto, Papi. Finirò il mio piatto; Giuro che lo farò. Grazie!" (Yes! I promise, Daddy. I will finish my plate; I swear I will. Thank you!).

The siblings and Michela had driven for an hour on a Sunday morning to get to the beautiful park that was littered with parents and children by this time. It was right at the heart of nature, and Oliver had already planned to go hiking here with Michela once she was older and her tiny legs would be able to carry her through greater distances.

"Baby, Zia Ellie and I are going to rest here in front of this big tree. Why don't you ride your bicycle around here? Make some friends?"

"Va bene, Papino," (Alright, Daddy).

She took off and rode in circles, mingling with many other cyclists her age.

Oliver removed his helmet and propped his bicycle on its kickstand before he and Ellie sat on the grass and rested their backs against the hefty trunk of an oak.

"Some girl you have raised: an ice cream fanatic." Ellie laughed and Oliver joined her. "It's really incredible how she juggles between Italian and English, and she speaks English so well for her age."

"She is gifted may I remind you, and she speaks Italian much better."

Ellie smiled at her niece and gave her a wave. "I've noticed that you speak in Italian when it's just the two of you. Was it like that in Italy, too?"

"No; otherwise, she wouldn't have known English. I would speak to her only in English, and she would mostly answer in Italian as it was easier for her, but I persisted, so her English was getting better with time. She is getting more comfortable with English ever since we got here, so I suspect that it will be stronger than Italian in a few years."

Ellie poured them coffee from the thermos she had made this morning. "But now you only speak in Italian."

Oliver took a sip and exhaled, loving the hot, savory coffee. "That's so neither of us forgets the language, even though she gets plenty of daily practice with her grandparents in Milano. They skype for hours every day."

"I bet they miss her terribly."

"You have no idea. It's a sore topic around there."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. Francesca, her grandmother? Isn't even speaking to me."

"No shit," Ellie said, surprised.

"The price of taking her granddaughter away."

"Yeah, but can't she be more understanding about it? This is your home after all."

"It doesn't matter to her. I lived with them for over four years. She considers Italy my home, and without Bianca, there's now a significant gap in their lives."

"Well, they can come visit. It's not like it's goodbye forever."

"True. Michela and I are flying to there on Thanksgiving, and they've already made plans to come in February." He sipped his coffee. "We'll make it work."

"Papino, guarda! No hands!"

Oliver observed his daughter in mirth performing this recklessly dangerous stunt while supported by her training wheels. "That's great, baby."

"How are you holding up, money-wise?"

"Well... I have too much of it," he giggled.

"Oh really?" Ellie faked a sneer. "Too much?"

"Seriously. I didn't even spend a dime in Italy. Antonio and Francesca treated me like a son. They didn't let me pay for anything aside from my degree; not only that, Antonio is a revered financial wizz. He's made some investments for me, and now I have approximately... a lot of money."

They giggled.

"That's good to hear. Buy yourself a place, like Jack and I did. It will give you some peace of mind."

"I will. I'm not going to stay with the folks for much longer, and I have enough to get a really nice place for Michela and me. Most of it is still tied up in long-term government bonds, but in a few months, I'll get a home and a nice car."

"Get a reliable family car."

"You see, those were my thoughts exactly; however"—he sighed in mock pain—"Michela is really pushing me to get a sports car."

"Yeah, right," Ellie giggled, shaking her head. "Men..."

"No, I'm serious. Look." He gazed at his daughter. "Baby, what car do you want Papino to get us?"

"Ferrari 488 gtb! Rosso!"

Ellie burst out laughing, and Oliver quickly joined her after pulling the image of the car in question on his phone's display.

"It's a toss-up between that and a Volvo. We're leaning toward the Ferrari though."

Ellie shook her head, trying to contain her laughter. "More coffee?"

"No, thanks," he giggled back. "And you're one to give advices about cars. Have you noticed what monster you're driving?"

She put the thermos in her backpack. "It's different! I don't have kids."

"Still... I gotta ask, how much did you shell out on that little freak?"

"You don't wanna know," Ellie giggled.

"It's packing like tons of modifications, and that engine is a beast. It looks like Satan's car."

Ellie's car indeed looked like a devilish piece of automobile. A black Mini Cooper with carbon fiber mirrors and red sun roof, 18" wheels with blackened rims, a 10 speaker Harman kardon sound system, and red sport stripes on the hood didn't even begin to cover the amount of customization. 0-60 in 6.5 seconds was made possible with the use of almost 200 hp. It was a serious machine.

"I went to the dealership, picked the most expensive car there, and let the salesman add everything. You know, to make it pretty."

Oliver shook his head, amused. "That's a really pretty car."

"You should take it for a spin. It'll blow your mind."

"Trust me, I will."

They sat in silence for a spell, breathing the fresh air.

"You know, you really didn't have to come," Oliver said, keeping an eye on his daughter. "I would've spent the night with you regardless."

"I know," she said affectionately, caressing his cheek, though she quickly stopped when realizing they were in public. "I wanted to."

"You just look a little weary."

"Well, I did go to sleep at 3."

"Boohoo, cry me a river. I woke up at 7, mind you, and I had to prep that rascal over there."

"That's true. How dare I?!"

They laughed, yet Oliver's giggle swiftly petered out when gazing at his sister in admiration. "How do you do that?"

"How do I do what?"

"How do you look so beautiful all the time?"

Ellie giggled bashfully. "It takes hard work."

"I don't believe you. You're just being coy, which may I add, is not becoming on you, Ellie."

"But it's true! I don't look like this when I wake up with morning breath and sleep in my eyes. I look just like everyone else: like a monster."

They shared a hearty laugh.

"How long did it take you to put on this nymph appearance?"

"Nymph?" Blood mounted up in her subtly freckled cheeks. "My oh my, the pressure..."

They laughed again.

She pulled her long, fair hair back and looked at him coyly. "How long do you think it took me?"

He scoped her out. "A rough estimation, including a shower... somewhere between half-hour to forty-five minutes."

"You got me," Ellie said with a smile.

"And that's really nothing. Some girls take forever and never look like this."

Ellie didn't want to disrupt the flow of this easy-going chat they were having, but she'd actually woken up at 7 in order to be ready at 9, the time her brother had picked her up. It's not that she was lacking in beauty. If there was anything Ellie was confident about, is that she was beautiful, as was evident from her overwhelming success with guys over the years.

Her looks had made her the envy of many females, and she was well aware of that; even so, she wanted to be especially pretty for Oliver, so she made sure she had all time in the world to do her long blond hair and apply her makeup to perfection. She felt so insecure around him, in ways she hadn't felt since her high school years, where essentially everyone's insecure, both the ugly and the beautiful.

"I bet you look like an angel in the morning."

"Oliver..." she murmured as if insulted.

"What?"

"You can't... keep doing this."

"This?"

"Saying these things to me all time. You're only making this..."

Oliver's face shifted around almost instantaneously. "Making it what, Ellie?"

"So god damn difficult," she sighed in exasperation.

He looked away and watched Michela riding in circles. "I thought we settled it last night."

"We did, but..."

"But..."

She heaved a sigh. "But I stand behind what I said last night: there is no future for us however painful and unbearable the thought of us having to end."

"It's you who's writing the ending, Ellie. No one else but you."

She shook her head in tears and cut her eyes at her niece, wanting to die.

"So you're going through with the wedding?"

She looked back at him and shrugged in agony, tormented by the thought. "I have to..."

"Says you."

"Oliver, if I could be with you, I mean really be with you, we weren't be having this conversation right now, I swear to you. The things you make me feel... god help me, no other guy has ever, and the idea of that is ripping me to pieces."

"Yeah, I can see that. You're all broken up inside, I can tell."

"Don't do this. You have no idea what I have been going through since you came back. There were literally weeks where I couldn't get myself out of bed because of you, because of what you make me feel. For god's sake, I am cheating on my soon to be husband because I am finding it impossible to stay away from you. Don't you see what you mean to me?"

Ellie's jealousy sprang to mind when Oliver was trying to conjure a solution that might overturn this evil sentence. "So if I started dating..."

"I'm in no position to ask you for anything, I'm well aware; that said, if you could... not, at least until you gave me some time to..." She looked down at the ground, quivering.

"To..."

She looked back into his eyes, tears gushing down from hers. "... to get over you... I would forever be grateful."

Oliver's eyes welled up when glaring at his sister as if he were looking at his nemesis. "You really shouldn't have come, Ellie... you really shouldn't."

Michela pulled over next to them. "Papino, ho fame. Stiamo per essere qui a lungo?" (Daddy, I'm hungry. Are we going to be here long?).

He slowly rose and joined his daughter, his eyes fixed on his broken sister. "No. We're through here."

***

"Happy Thanksgiving," Ellie said when she entered her parents' home, carrying a fine bottle of merlot.

"Happy Thanksgiving, baby." Alice embraced her. "Why didn't Jason come?"

"He wanted to be with his family, and I wanted to be with mine."

"You know, you're going to be married soon. You should spend the holidays together."

"We will, but until then..." She smiled and joined everyone in the living room.

Dan, Jack, Dave, and Gena were there, each holding a glass of alcoholic beverage of sort. Aunt Linda, Dan's sister, was there also along with her daughters, Julie and Melanie. While Ellie was giving all kisses and hugs, her father fixed her an appletini. They engaged in a cheerful conversation about life and work. Ellie's upcoming wedding claimed a sizable chunk of the discussion before Linda brought up the missing sibling.

"They're in Italy visiting our granddaughter's family," Dan said.

"That's such a shame," Linda said. "I was really hoping to see him and his daughter. I think I saw him last... must have been seven years ago on Christmas."

"I think you're right, Mom," Melanie said and poured herself some more wine. "I was a senior; he was a sophomore, like Julia. I'm pretty sure we haven't seen him since."

Linda bobbed her head. "Even after you explained me the chain of events, Dan, I'm still having a hard time to understand it all."

"You're not the only one," Alice bitterly muttered and drained her glass.

"Water under the bridge, darling," her husband said. "It won't do you any good to keep moping."

"I'm sorry, Dan, but I'm not going to pretend that I don't resent him for Michela. He had no right. And now he took her away on Thanksgiving of all days."

"Mom, let it go," Jack said, snuggling up with Gena on the couch. "That's the only time he could have taken a few days off work."

"Do you have any pictures of his daughter?" Julia asked a moment later.

"Oh do they," Dave giggled. "In any pose you could think of."

"Dear, pull up the pictures on the big screen," Alice said. "All of her pictures were taken in 4K," she proudly added. "Future-proofing."

"Never mind I had to buy her a new phone and this new TV, so she could future-proof," Dan said and extorted a big laugh from everyone.

"I'm sorry, but I will not have my only granddaughters' precious face perpetuated in poor 1080p resolution. It had to be done."

A louder wave of laugher washed over the room following that remark.

Dan plugged his wife's phone to the 4K 55" screen via Wi-Fi and pulled up Michela's pictures for all to see, and Alice narrated the pictures as she clicked along. Michela's radiating smile was as crisp as in real life. The quality of her pictures could not be denied.

"A solid investment, dear, both the phone and the TV," Dan said, beaming at his granddaughter's 55-inch face.

Alice smiled, no less moved than her husband, and moved along with the pictures.

Michela was eliciting hearty responses from all as they watched her decorating the screen in indeed all the poses one could think of and in a variety of locations.

"Who's that guy?" Melanie interjected. "That's not Oliver, is it?"

A black-and-white picture of Michela and her father took over the massive screen. It was the picture Alice had taken of them months ago, when they nudged foreheads at the restaurant and smiled as they locked eyes. She'd applied the black-and-white filter later that day when tinkering with it in bed. She was already planning to enlarge it and put it on the wall of memoirs, but she wanted more pictures of her granddaughter before she had them developed.

"Yes, that's Oliver," Dan said. "Oh, that's nice, dear... the black-and-white truly makes it so much more powerful."

It was indeed a potent moment that everyone in the room could effortlessly feel as it glittered at them in the lucidity that only 4K resolution could offer.

"That's not Oliver," Melanie said in defiance. "It can't be."

"Oh, but it is," Dave said, pouring more wine into empty glasses.

"That's Oliver?" Julia said and shuffled in her seat. "I remembered him a little differently."

"A little?" Melanie echoed with eyes wide. "Aunt Alice, do you have any more pics of him?"

"I don't know. Let's see."

While her mother was moving forward with the pictures, buds of animosity had begun blooming in Ellie's heart as she looked at Melanie. She had always liked her just fine, but the obvious way in which Melanie seemed to be taken with her baby brother's new look didn't sit well with her, which brought upon Melanie everlasting hatred from Ellie since those sprouts had reached full maturity by the time Alice lingered on a picture of her youngest.

Unlike the previous picture, this one featured Oliver's chiseled build to the fullest as he stood topless next to Michela just out there in the patio, both in their swimsuits and clearly unaware that they were being photographed.

"Oh my god, that's Oliver?" Melanie upgraded Ellie's hatred to full-on loathing.

"He is quite different," Linda opined.

"I'm hungry," Ellie said testily. "Is the turkey ready?"

"In a few minutes, baby," Alice said. "Why don't you pour us another one while we wait."

Ellie filled her mother's glass halfway and her own glass to the brim and slumped onto the sofa. She'd been bending over backwards these last few weeks to yank her baby bro out of her heart, and this semi-clothed presentation of him was hampering her efforts.

Oliver and Ellie's volatile relationship had hit bottom a few weeks back. That Sunday had concluded on a morose note, and although Ellie wasn't allowing it to influence her relationship with her niece this time around, she and Oliver were completely ignoring each other; more accurately, Oliver was ignoring her, and Ellie had been playing along as it was serving her well. She had to get over him, and the sooner the better.

She was slowly beginning to resent him for making her feel so horrible, for acting immaturely, and for his incomprehension of the inevitable truths of life: siblings were not meant to be in a relationship, not in this world they weren't. She had actually made some promising progress with her heartache this last week, yet the picture of him and the way she'd reacted to what, in all likelihood, seemed like an honest expression of surprise from her cousin were sobering her up quickly.

Enter wine. Her wine-gobbling means of counterattack weren't proving themselves prolific yet, and she couldn't stop herself from slowly sinking into depression as she gazed wistfully at her baby brother through the TV.

"Can we move along with the pictures?" Ellie requested in a disheartened, weary voice.