Neroli, Italy | January 2003
He really needed a cigarette. In fact, he really needed something
way stronger than a cigarette, but a cigarette was what he had on hand. The Festival delle Arti was gorgeous and entertaining, both inside the venue and outside. He loved Neroli, though he had only been there a handful of times. He loved the environment and he loved the people. He loved art, as well. He had seen gorgeous paintings, heard new music and seen new fashion. He was inspired and in awe and wanting to create something artistic for himself. He had never been a particularly artistic guy. He wasn’t good with painting or drawing or designing, but he was good with words. He was a poet. He supposed that counted? He had spent all day wandering around the expo, ignoring his cravings as they slowly got stronger. Then, he was too far in to really find his way through the crowds to an appropriate exit, and Xan did not really want to stand outside with him when there was so much to be seen inside.
So, when she needed to excuse herself to the restrooms, he found an opportunity to sneak out for a few quick puffs. He lit up and let the smoke fill his lungs deeply, before exhaling into the air. He was probably not supposed to smoke where he was, but he didn’t care. He needed this. He closed his eyes and savored the nicotine, letting his head roll back in relaxation for a moment. He opened his eyes and looked around, watching people. It was then that he noticed a familiar face in the crowd and stopped still.
He had not seen Georgiana since their failed attempt at marriage. She had all but disappeared after she rebuffed him. He never saw her around, never reached out to her, never spoke with her or her family. He owed her so much. She was his first love, the person who taught him what love could be like. Even though things didn’t work out with them, something that would always burn in Basil’s heart, he cared for her even now. He couldn’t tell if the burning was sadness or lost pride, but either way he was uncomfortable to see her. Some may say it was like seeing a ghost, but to Basil ghosts were fascinating. This was just startling and uncomfortable.
He hesitated, unsure if he ought to reach out to her or not. Her eyes flicked in his direction, and he found himself smiling and waving slightly, despite himself. He didn’t approach her. He thought he might let her approach him if she wanted, but most of him wanted to run—either towards her, or away. He couldn’t tell which.
