The bright lights crowded Oliver’s vision as he stepped out into the harsh rays of the sun, and he squinted to relieve his eyes of the flash of pain that flooded through them. After the initial discomfort waned, he began to bask in the warm rays of the sun. He was in the woods today for the first time in years, and he declared that he would take time to notice and appreciate all the beauty around him. He leaned against a maple tree to his left and inhaled the pungent scent of the sap that was locked away inside of them. He closed his eyes and listened as birds tweeted different melodies and animals tittered around the forest floor. He opened his eyes and smirked as two squirrels ran over the fallen leaves of late autumn, stained fabulous shades of orange and brown and yellow then chased each other up a tall oak tree. He was surrounded by an air of peace as he admired the wonders before him.
Oliver walked deeper into the lush forest until he came upon a tree. He pressed his hand to it and ran his fingers over the bumps in the bark, and memories of summers spent here in America with his father flooded his brain. They would come to visit relatives here yearly and go back to Britain, his native land, every fall. He decided to move to America after the death of his father. Since his father was a single parent, and Oliver had no siblings, there was nothing left tying him to Britain. Most of his family was in America anyway so he thought the best thing to do was to leave. He couldn’t be there when his father wasn’t.
Oliver trailed his fingers back over the notches in the rough bark and smiled. Years of archery lessons with his father filled his mind. He remembered the first set of bow and arrows that he got for his tenth birthday. He remembered his father guiding him into the proper stance as he raised his bow. He remembered the faint scars that still lingered on his forearm from where the bowstring whipped his arm every time he would let an arrow fly during his first lessons. He remembered this tree, the one he would always use as a target when he practiced.
With a deep breath, he stepped back and let the memories overwhelm him. He thought of the bow that he sold after his father’s death because anything that reminded him of his father hurt too much. He shook the thought from his head and moved on.
Oliver walked deeper into the woods, his loud footsteps echoing throughout the trees as he goes, and the familiar surroundings he knew as a child changed the deeper he moved into the forestry. Eventually he found himself near a pond that he never knew was there. He looked into it and saw his face reflected back at him.
The image of his brown hair and skin, so much like his father’s, stared back at him. He lay down by the pond and let the earthy sounds around him lull him into a halfway land between waking and sleeping.
At the snapping of a twig, Oliver jolted up. He looked around trying to find the source of the sound. After nothing emerged, and no further noises followed, he lay back down, blaming the sound on some small animal scurrying about.
“Who are you?” His head whipped to the side as he sat up again, looking for the voice. He rubbed his neck trying to alleviate the pain that shot through it at his sudden reaction.
“Who said that?” He asked, slowly moving to his feet. He heard a stepping then dragging sound as a woman emerged from behind a tree.
“Now you answer my question,” she said.
“I-I’m Oliver,” he said, flustered as he gave her a quick once over. She wore tattered khaki shorts and a navy t-shirt. Her hair was a tangled mess of black waves. She crossed her arms over her chest at his scrutiny, and he noticed the scratches all over her forearms standing out against her bronze skin.
“Are you okay?” He asked once he found his words again.
“I’m fine.”
“What is your name?”
“Liliana,” she answered in a hushed voice.
“That’s a nice name,” he mused. As he took a step towards her, he noticed that she took a step back. “I know that accent,” he added furrowing his eyebrows. “Where are you from?”
She scowled at him, “Why do you care?”
“I was just curious.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be. It’s none of your business,” Liliana said, turning away.
“Wait,” he yelled. “Are you hungry? Do you need anything?”
“No,” she said sullenly, without turning around.
“Are you sure?”
She stopped and turned her head slightly.
Oliver took this as his only opportunity and pushed his hand into the satchel he kept at his hip and waded through the junk until his hand landed around the firm expanse of an apple. He quickly pulled it out and shoved it in her direction.
Liliana turned and eyed it before taking it from his grasp. “Grazie,” she muttered in thanks.
“That’s it, you’re Italian!”
She chuckled quietly, “Si Italiano.” She paused, “And you are English, no?”
“I am,” Oliver said. “Would you like to sit?” he asked a beat later, gesturing to a large rock a few paces away from the pond.
Liliana nodded and began limping towards the rock. She grimaced every time she shifted her weight to her left foot.
“Do you need any help?” He asked reflexively, but she shook her head.
Once she made her way over to the rock, she sat with a long sigh, and he sat beside her. She took no time before sinking her teeth into the bright red, glistening apple over and over again until there was nothing left. Even then she still nibbled at the core.
“Do you want anything else? I may have more food,” he stuck his hand back into his satchel and rifled through it. Sadly, he found nothing in there so he reached into his pockets and pulled out whatever he could find. He held the contents in his hand—one dollar, a piece of spearmint gum, some chocolate, and pocket lint—and sheepishly held them in her direction. She took the gum and the chocolate but left the money in his hand.
They sat in awkward silence as she stared at the water, and he stared at her. When the silence became unbearable, Oliver said, “Can I ask why you’re out here?”
She sighed. “Yes, but I will not answer.”
“Oh,” was all he said, trying to hide his disappointment.
There was a pregnant pause before she begrudgingly breeched the silence. “Do you remember all those stories about faes and faeries?” She began in a hushed tone. He nodded. “My mother would tell me a story about them every night before I went to sleep. She would always tell of the romance between the faeries, and how one day, we would all find that one person. Apparently, my father wasn’t that person for her so she left him,” she shrugged. “Without telling him that she was pregnant with me,” she added. “She moved from Catania, Sicily to Verona in search of love. She wanted to find that one person,” she said while rolling her eyes. “Anyway, apparently she did. David.” She paused. “My mother was a big romantic.
She was so proud of their love story and instead of telling me stories of faes she would tell me her love story… it wasn’t until years later that I realized I liked hearing about the faes more.”
“How did her story go?” Oliver asked.
“Same as any, boy meets girl etcetera. He was touring Verona when she met him. I was around ten and all I can remember is my life changing so rapidly. They fell in love in a week and he whisked her away to America and, of course, by extension, me.”
“Do you like it here?”
“I do, but I would rather be back in Italia.” She looked up at him, smiling sadly as her bright brown eyes glisten. “Mia madre era un idiota.” Oliver furrowed his eyebrows. “My mother was an idiot,” she clarified.
“Was?”
Liliana nodded, “She died a few weeks ago. As soon as that happened, my step father kicked me out. Said I was too old to be living under his roof. He didn’t even wait a week after they put her in the ground to do it.”
“I’m sorry,” was all he can think to say.
“No need to be,” she said, sitting up straighter and wincing when she leaned to the left. “I’m going to get out of here eventually.”
Neither of them said anything more. They sat in companionable silence for what felt like hours. The sun began to dip below the horizon covering the sky in dazzling shades of orange and pink and blue. The temperature began to drop steadily as night progressed, and the late autumn wind began to blow through the trees. He felt Lilliana shiver beside him, and before he could think, he was shucking off his jacket and placing it on her legs and taking a worn gray skull cap from his bag he placed it over her matted hair.
She smiled at him, “Grazie.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied.
They sat like this for a while longer before Liliana laid her head on his shoulder.
Eventually her breathing evened out, and he peeked down at her to find her eyes sealed tightly shut in the depths of slumber.
Oliver took this time to think of how the last weeks of her life must have been. He thought of how she must have been heavily dependent on her parents, if losing that connection reduced her to living in the woods. The loss of money that was supplied by her parents had changed her life, but she still persevered. The poverty weighing down on her didn’t discourage her, but made her stronger, and her hopes for the future hadn’t waned, only built. She didn’t accept that this was her life. She believed that she would move forward. He looked down at her and felt a mix of sympathy and admiration.
He wanted to help her, but what could he do, really? She probably wouldn’t even accept his offer. He sighed and sat up straighter on the rock, careful not to bother her. He knew that he couldn’t leave her here. Not only was that decision morally wrong, but it was one his father would never condone. His father would help her. The last thing Oliver would want to do is let his father down.
Liliana woke an hour later and startled when she noticed how late it had gotten. Stars now dotted the dusky expanse of the sky. “Oliver si dovrebbe essere sempre a casa!” She shook her head, “You should be getting home.”
“I can’t leave you here.”
“What are you talking about? Yes, you can. Go.”
“Not unless you come,” he said, strengthening his resolve.
“No Oliver andare. Go. Go home,” she said standing and walking away as swiftly as she could with her limp.
“Liliana—”
“No Oliver, the last thing I would want is to be a burden on you,” she pleaded.
“What do you plan to do?”
“I don’t know. One day I will get out of here. I do not know where I will go just yet, but I won’t be homeless for long.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I have nowhere else to go Oliver,” she said impatiently.
“You can come with me.”
“Oliver, I barely know you. Questo è pazzo. This is crazy. Besides I can take care of myself!”
“But you shouldn’t be living in the woods. There are places you could go, shelters.”
“I don’t want to go there.”
“Then let me help you,” he said. She looked into his eyes. “Just until you get back on your feet. I could never forgive myself if I left you alone.” He waited a beat then added, “It doesn’t hurt to ask for help. It doesn’t make you weak. Everyone needs help sometimes.”
Oliver held his breath in anticipation as she mulled over her answer and began to get antsy as the silence stretched.
“Bene. Okay,” she finally acquiesced, somewhat begrudgingly.
“Grazie,” he said.
