Page 21 of Lost Dreams

Roberto had once looked at her like this. But he didn’t anymore. He just didn’t.

10

The following week, Aurora walked with Pino and Nadia to the beach to say goodbye. In the morning, they were already flying back to Rome with their father, each returning to the things they had to do, the responsibilities they’d taken on. Pino was to continue his work at the lab, and Nadia was gearing up for her junior year at her university in Florence.

Aurora yearned to ask her siblings if they sometimes felt similarly empty when it came to life. She wanted to know if their studies and pursuits had filled them up enough, or if they still wondered about what else was out there in the world. But she also didn’t want to frustrate her siblings more than they already were. To them, Aurora was an anomaly, the sister who’d been meant for great things, who kept smashing into metaphorical walls.

They probably didn’t want to “catch” whatever failure she had.

They’d brought a bottle of wine down from the kitchen of the White Oak Lodge, which they now opened and used to fill their glasses. In Aurora’s backpack was Great-Grandpa Charles Whitmore's World War II journal, and she considered showing it to her siblings, but she decided against it. She wasn’t sure if they cared about their American side of the family as much as she did, and she didn’t want to watch them roll their eyes. Rather, she decided to ask Nadia and Pino their final opinion on Nantucket Island.

“It’s pretty, I guess,” Nadia said in a small voice.

“Yes.” Pino sounded resigned. “It’s beautiful, sure. But we still don’t understand why you want to stay. We’re Italian, Aurora. We’re Romans.”

“And Papa is very upset,” Nadia added.

“We were wondering,” Pino continued, his eyes flashing. “We know that what happened to you in Berlin was… not good. It was really hard. But would you ever, I don’t know, want to continue your work at art school? Any art school? Even if it wasn’t in Berlin?”

Aurora laughed in a way that, she hoped, showed how little she cared about art school, or any school for that matter. “I wish you guys would make up your mind. Should I go to art school or business school? Should I run a company or paint a picture?”

They gave her looks that felt very familiar to Aurora, looks meant to remind Aurora that she needed to get her life in order. But what about excitement? What about spontaneity? She wanted to ask them what they lived for. What about how beautiful and strange and unpredictable everything was? It seemed her siblings didn’t want to take that into account. They wanted to box her into a description of someone—a business person or an artist person. It made them feel safe, being able to categorize people.

Eventually, Pino and Nadia finished their glasses of wine and said they were going back to the Lodge to pack. They left Aurora on the orange sand, her throat thick with sorrow. She wished she could relate to her family more and didn’t feel so alone.

The following day, rather than say goodbye to her father, Aurora met up with Kenny and Oren to show them Charles Whitmore’s journals. They were in the apartment that Kenny and Oren shared in one of the staff-filled alcoves of the White Oak Lodge. As he read, Kenny was delicate with the pages of her great-grandfather’s journals, reading aloud in a voice that nearly broke Aurora’s heart.

Oren interrupted him halfway through the reading of a particularly harrowing passage.

“This is really good, Aurora,” Oren said excitedly, his hands bouncing against his chest. “But what do you see as the emotional crux of this story? What is the, like, reason we’re telling it?”

Aurora considered this for a moment, sort of miffed that Oren had asked but also down to answer, then took the journal back and flipped to the passage she hadn’t been able to get out of her mind. “Maybe something to do with this?” She read aloud:

“October 22, 1944

“I’ve just heard from Mother and Father. Edmund was set to fight in the Netherlands. The story is that he was killed in battle. It’s strange. Despite my devastation, I haven’t been able to shake the fact that I didn’t know. All our lives, my brother and I were twins. We came into the world together. I always assumed that I would know if he died. I always assumed I would experience some part of it. But the truth is, we came into the world as separate souls, and we’ll leave as separate souls. Maybe the fact that we shared the same face and body didn’t matter as much as I thought it did.”

Aurora stopped reading and closed her great-grandfather’s journal. Her hands shook so much that Kenny had to reach over and steady them. Luckily, Oren was on his feet, pacing and thinking aloud, so much so that he didn’t notice Kenny’s hand on hers.

When Oren did finally begin to speak, Kenny pulled his hand away.

“This is wild,” Oren said. “Twin brothers in different World War II battles. And then, presumably, Charles had to come back to the White Oak Lodge to handle the family hotel all by himself.” Oren spread his arms out wide. “This hotel is filled with ghosts. I told you that when we first got here, Kenny. Didn’t I?”

Aurora crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn’t entirely sure if the White Oak Lodge was haunted, per se. But numerous stories were lost between its walls.

“We’ll run with this for now,” Oren said brightly, making a note in his own little book. “You’re a rock star, Aurora. Seriously. We’re so lucky that we met you.” He eyed her in a way that made her understand how much he wanted her.

Soon after, Kenny went to the staff kitchen to get them snacks to help them work. Oren took this opportunity to close his book and say, “You know, Aurora, I’m going to come out and say it. I would really like to take you out.”

Aurora was seized with a panic that she knew she couldn’t show him.

“You’re surprised,” Oren said. “I can see that. But you shouldn’t be! You’re a beautiful woman. I’ve liked you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Aurora was suddenly nervous that if she said no to Oren, the documentary project would be taken away from her. She didn’t know if she could deal with that. Sweat pooled along the back of her neck.

She had to handle this delicately.

“Oren…” She breathed. “It would honestly make me so happy to go out with you. But…” She gestured toward the space on the bed where Kenny had only just been. “I’m worried. I don’t want Kenny to get jealous, and I want us to be able to keep working together.”