A Love Left Behind

Chapter 4 - The Summer We Became Four

I was five when I learned that some places can become part of your childhood without you realizing it. For me, that place was Istria, Croatia. A small campsite near the sea that, at the time, seemed like the most beautiful place in the world.

Looking back now, I understand that it wasn't only the country I fell in love with. It was the feeling of being there. The four of us. Together. For the first time.

We drove to Istria in May, when the summer crowds had not yet arrived. The journey seemed endless to me. I remember asking my father at least a hundred times when we would finally get there.

“Soon,” he kept saying.

“Soon” meant absolutely nothing to a five-year-old.

When we finally arrived, I remember the smell first. Pine trees. Warm earth. Salt in the air. Everything smelled clean. The sea was impossibly blue and so clear that I could see the pale stones beneath the surface.

I remember standing there with my shoes in my hand, staring at the water.

“It's like glass,” I said.

Rea smiled beside me. “It is beautiful, isn't it?”

I nodded. I didn't know many beautiful places back then. But I knew this one was special.

The campsite wasn't luxurious. It didn't need to be. There were trees everywhere, narrow paths between the pitches, small restaurants and little shops, and the sea was only a short walk away. We stayed in one of the holiday bungalows. I thought it was enormous.

Chloe immediately claimed one of the beds.

I complained.

She ignored me.

Dad laughed.

Rea tried to keep the peace.

It became our routine almost immediately. Breakfast together. The beach. Swimming. Lunch somewhere nearby. Ice cream in the afternoon. Then dinner when the sun began to disappear behind the trees.

The food was different from what we ate at home, and I loved everything. Fresh fish, grilled vegetables, bread that tasted better than any bread I had ever eaten, tomatoes that actually tasted like tomatoes. Everything was fresh and simple, seasoned with herbs, garlic and olive oil. I didn't know it then, but I would remember those meals for the rest of my life.

Not because they were expensive. They weren't. They were simple. Fresh. Good. The kind of food you remember because you ate it outside, with the sea only a few metres away and the evening warm enough that nobody wanted to go inside.

Rea was different on holiday. Or maybe I was simply old enough to notice her differently.

At home, everything had always been scheduled. School. Work. Appointments. Dinner. Bedtime. But here, nobody seemed to be in a hurry.

Rea would sit beside the water and read. Sometimes she would simply watch us. Sometimes she would join us. She never tried to become my mother. That was something I only understood much later.

At five, I only knew that she was there.

And that I liked having her there.

One afternoon, I ran into the water without waiting for anyone.

“Damian!”

My father shouted after me.

I turned around. “I can swim!”

“You can barely swim!”

“I can!”

I kept going. The water reached my waist, then my chest, and suddenly I wasn't so brave anymore.

Rea was already walking toward me. She held out her hand.

“Come on.”

I took it.

She didn't laugh. She didn't tell me I had been stupid. She simply walked me back toward the shore.

Later, my father shook his head. “You scared ten years off my life.”

I laughed.

Rea looked at him. “You're going to have to get used to it.”

Dad smiled. “Unfortunately, I think you're right.”

I didn't understand why they looked at each other that way. I only knew that when they did, both of them smiled.

Chloe took longer.

She was nine by then, and she noticed things Damian didn't. She noticed when Dad looked at Rea. She noticed when Rea looked at him. She noticed that Rea never spoke badly about Mum.

And she noticed something else.

Rea never asked her to choose.

Not between her and Maxime. Not between Dad and Mum. Not between the old family and the new one. She simply let Chloe be Chloe.

That should have made things easier.

Sometimes it did.

Other times, it made them harder.

One afternoon, Chloe and Rea were sitting together outside while Dad prepared lunch. They were talking about school, and for once Chloe seemed completely relaxed.

Then Rea asked her something about her favorite subject.

“Math,” Chloe answered.

Rea smiled. “I was terrible at math when I was your age.”

Chloe laughed.

“You?”

“Absolutely.”

“You don't seem terrible at anything.”

Rea smiled. “That's because you're only seeing me on vacation.”

Chloe laughed again.

For a moment, they looked almost like they were becoming friends.

Then the phone rang.

It was Maxime.

Chloe's smile disappeared.

She stepped away from Rea before answering.

“Hi, Mum.”

Her voice changed immediately.

Rea looked away and pretended not to listen.

The conversation lasted only a few minutes.

When Chloe came back, she was different.

“Do you want to come swimming?” Rea asked.

“No.”

Her answer was sharp enough to make Rea pause.

“Okay.”

Chloe walked away.

Damian looked after her.

“Why is she angry?”

Rea shook her head.

“She isn't angry.”

“She is.”

Rea smiled faintly.

“Sometimes people have feelings they don't know what to do with.”

I didn't understand.

I didn't need to.

Five minutes later, I was running toward the sea again.

Chloe stayed on the beach.

And Rea stayed between us, never asking Chloe to come closer.

That became the pattern.

There were days when Chloe laughed with Rea.

Days when she asked her questions.

Days when she sat beside her at dinner and told her about school.

And then there were days when something inside her seemed to snap.

She would answer in one-word sentences.

She would refuse Rea's help.

She would suddenly leave the room when Rea entered.

Once, when Rea offered to help her with her hair before dinner, Chloe looked at her and said quietly, “I can do it myself.”

Rea immediately stepped back.

“Of course.”

There was no anger in her voice.

That somehow made Chloe look even more uncomfortable.

I didn't understand why.

I only knew that Rea never became angry with her.

She never told Dad.

She never complained.

She simply gave Chloe space.

Years later, I would understand that Rea knew something we didn't.

Chloe wasn't really angry with her.

She was angry at what Rea represented.

Every time Chloe looked at her, she was reminded that her mother was alone at home.

That her parents were no longer together.

That her father had chosen another woman.

And somewhere in the mind of a nine-year-old girl, those things had become connected.

If Rea wasn't there, maybe everything would be normal again.

If Rea hadn't met Dad, maybe Mum wouldn't cry.

If Rea hadn't existed, maybe they would all still be together.

It wasn't fair.

But children don't always understand fairness.

They understand pain.

And Chloe was hurting.

The strange thing was that the holiday was still wonderful.

For Damian, it was almost perfect.

I ran through the campsite barefoot. I collected stones. I learned that sea urchins were not something you should step on. I ate more ice cream than my father thought was reasonable. I discovered that Rea would always give me the last bite of her dessert if I asked nicely.

And I loved the water.

I loved the smell of the pine trees.

I loved waking up and knowing the sea was only a few minutes away.

Most of all, I loved seeing Dad happy.

He laughed more on that holiday than I had seen him laugh in a long time.

Sometimes he and Rea walked ahead of us along the shore.

Sometimes they held hands.

Sometimes Dad would stop and look at her as though he couldn't believe she was really there.

I didn't understand love then.

I only understood happiness.

And my father looked happy.

One evening, we ate dinner outside.

The sky slowly turned orange, then pink, and finally dark blue. The air smelled of the sea and the pine trees, and somewhere nearby someone was playing music.

Chloe sat beside me.

Rea was across from us.

Dad was talking about something that had happened during the day.

For a few minutes, nobody seemed to remember that things were complicated.

Then Chloe looked at Rea.

“Are you coming next year?”

Rea seemed surprised.

She looked at Leo.

Then back at Chloe.

“If your father invites me.”

Chloe shrugged.

“He probably will.”

Dad laughed.

“I definitely will.”

I looked around the table.

“Can we come back to this exact place?”

Dad looked at Rea.

Rea smiled.

“I'd like that.”

And that was how it started.

The same campsite.

The same coastline.

Every summer.

We came back the following year, and the year after that. Sometimes we stayed longer. Sometimes we stayed somewhere else for a few days first. But eventually, we always returned to that little piece of Istria.

It became our place.

A place where Damian was simply a boy who loved the sea.

A place where Chloe could sometimes forget that she was supposed to be angry.

A place where Rea never asked for a title she didn't have.

And a place where Leo could pretend, just for a little while, that the four of us were exactly what he had always wanted.

A family.

Not perfect.

Not simple.

But ours.

I didn't know it then, but those summers would become some of the happiest memories of my childhood.

And perhaps that was why, years later, I would remember every detail.

The smell of the pine trees.

The taste of the tomatoes.

The cold, clear water.

The sound of Chloe laughing.

Rea's hand in mine.

And my father's voice saying,

“Same place next year?”

We always said yes.

We never knew there would eventually be a year when we wouldn't.