“Max, babe, me and papa are going to Italy for work, alright? We’ll be back very soon,” Elisa cooed with her honey-like voice, too sweet and enough to make him gag. Max never called her mother in his head, she never fulfilled any duties as mother, and it’d be too weird to say “Mrs. Clinton”, so he settled with Elisa.

“I got it Ma, you don’t have to worry about me,” Max faked a matching sweet tone. Failing miserably when he yawned mid-sentence. Nobody would buy a ticket that leaves at 5 AM, but then again, his parents operated on a different wavelength. One where he needs to constantly tune the radio, only to catch fragments.

“Look at our boy, all grown up,” Felix chuckled. Max stood straighter as his shoulders tensed, an attention-seeking habit he started to have from a young age. Felix tugged his wife towards the door. “C’mon, honey. We don’t want to miss our flight.”

Max dug his nails into his palms as he watched as the pair march down the front garden, linking arms and whispering sweet nothings. His parents lived a fairy tale, the kind with the childhood sweetheart experience, the church wedding drowning in rose bouquets, and the postcard-perfect white picket fence dream coming true. Apparently, the only thing that wasn’t ideal in the pristine little family? Max.

Even now, as his parents drove away, the twinkling stars shone brighter, rolling out an invisible red carpet. Too bad love songs rarely mention the third wheel.

The house suddenly felt empty, the humming of the fridge not enough to fill the void of actual voices. Max trudged upstairs. His emotions could wait. They were good at that.

The morning light waltzed through the curtain. The singsong of birds and a David Bowie ringtone drilled into Max’s head as he woke up. Accepting the call, Max grumbled in frustration.

Izair wasn’t affected in the least as he shouted, “Dude, it hasn’t been a week, and they’re gone already! You know your parents left, right?” Max winced as he remembered the time his parents vented away to their vacation home the night before his 7^th birthday. He’d planned a whole day of carnival games and a night of movies. In the end, Izair and Izair’s aunt accompanied him through the activities, enduring Max’s breakdown each time they reach a new destination.

“How’d you know they left?” Max’s voice quavered.

“Your mom’s Insta, they’ve visited the Pisa Tower just hours ago.”

Max barked out a laugh. “Oh, that,” he said, sounding miserable even to himself. Max thought about the empty house, a chill reached his spine. He needed an escape. Sure, he could have all the parties he wanted, inviting everyone in school and getting super drunk.

It felt too chaotic for Max, and Izair wouldn’t be happy. Last year, Max hosted his first party after finals were over. Izair drink-blocked him and shooed everyone out after they caught a pair of couples making out in Max’s bedroom. Parties weren’t their vibe.

“Izair,” Max called out, a plan manifesting inside his head, “What if we visit Italy?”

“What-,” the line followed by a series of coughs, “You can’t do this to me dude. If I choke on my breakfast, it’s your fault.”

“I’m being serious. It’s summer vacay. We’re 17, reaching 18. We don’t have anything to do. Let’s travel, and let’s travel to Italy!”

“You’re scarily serious right now,” Izair stated, his voice turning gentler as he continued, “Your parents aren’t the best, but they’re not important. You shouldn’t do things just to get their attention, you know that right?” Max felt the bricked wall he built inside him was crumbling down. Like it did at the carnival 10 years ago.

He was supposed to be mature though, so he answered, “Trust me, I’m not. The only thing I need is for my best friend to say yes to a trip he wouldn’t forget.”  

After agonizing minutes of silence passed by, Izair sighed, “Sorry Max, I’ll sit this one out.”

“Alright… Totally cool. I’ll go alone then.” Max hung up the call, feeling more hurt than he should have.

Max pulled through with the plan: A ticket to Florence, which he sent a copy to Izair, a hotel room for three nights, and he’ll find what to do when he got there.

Sooner than he anticipated, he was dragging his luggage to the airport gate, Izair already waiting there to say goodbye. Oddly, he sat on a suitcase. Max’s chest tightened with anxiety. It was probably a random stranger’s luggage. Izair was weird that way.

“I’ll visit Florence first,” Max paused before supplying, “It’s in Tuscany if you’re curious.”

Izair scoffed, “Of course I know where we’re going. I bought a ticket as well.”

“Wait, really? I thought you didn’t want to come!” Max felt he could dance and sing.

“You’ll starve and die alone in a foreign country dumbass,” Izair rolled his eyes, leading Max inside the airport, “C’mon. We don’t want to miss our flight.”

The first two days ticked away with peace and the good type of chaos. They spent a day in the Uffizi Gallery and another visiting cathedrals and churches. Max’s stomach was filled with pizza that can last him a lifetime. Izair’s eyebags are showing now that they already binge watched four movies in total, all French, but whatever fits.

On their last day, they slept in and packed their suitcases. The plane for home leaves tonight. In the late afternoon, Max proposed that they roam around the city.

The clouds turned a cool gray, covering the sun. Wind picked up as the curtains of their shared hotel room fluttered. Max watched as random newspaper fragments and fallen leaves rolled across the stone-pebbled street.

“You sure you don’t want to sleep some more?” Izair asked.

“It’s our last day, no? Let’s at least do something fun.” Max said as he pulled out his phone. Elisa posted another Insta, typical. In the photo, Felix hugged Elisa from behind as she posed with a view of their hotel balcony. She wore a flagrant red dress with matching red lipstick, looking like someone pasted from La La Land, or Hollywood. Felix had a plain shirt and a pair of vibrant red sunglasses which Max suspected were Elisa’s.

Max scrolled down to see the text, “Two of Us in Florence”, punctuated with a heart and kissy face. He grimaced, throwing his phone onto the bed.

“Don’t let them bother you. Think about the bakery you recommended, we could go now.”

“How’d you know it’s about you-know-who?” Max asked out of curiosity.

“You have a very specific expression when it’s about your parents,” Izair shrugged before mimicking Max’s “specific expression”.

“I definitely do not!” Max rebutted. Elisa and Felix looked like they are having a blast, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to have fun.

“You’re doing it again,” Izair singsonged, getting ready to leave.

That guy is unbelievable, Max thought as he followed Izair out the door.

They followed the map up to a busy alleyway. The air carried the clinking of glasses and the rich, sweet scent of cocoa and pastries. Most shops illuminated a warm orange glow, barely noticeable in even in the clouded daylight. The pair walked shoulder-to-shoulder, squeezing through the crowd.

Izair pointed, “Why don’t we go there?”

Max followed Izair’s gesture, seeing a worn-down bookstore just opposite of the breakfast stand they’d planned to go to. The dark red and beige sign wrote, “Radio & Typewriters”, and in small letters, “OPENED SINCE 1975”. The forest green walls already showed their wooden brown underneath, the paint being scraped off. A copper bell was hung just above the door, chiming with the wind.

The two walked in, feeling the cold wind replaced by warmth. The battered radio sang repeatedly, “M-A-M-A-B-O-Y, Mama’s Boy, Mama’s Boy……” The scent of books and ink finally settled in. As Izair stayed near the tainted window, Max wandered further into the store. The worn-out leather covers of books brushed his hand, the gold-edged letters shimmering in the dim lighting. The radio faded only to start again. 

He heard quiet laughing, coming from the floor below. The laugh sounds familiar, like a blow directed at his chest, the stone tied to his feet when he’s sinking.

Max tiptoed downstairs and peeked from the doorway. A couple cuddled on one of the beanbags, the woman’s red dress flowing to the floor. He froze.

One of them must have sensed Max’s intrusion as the men turned his head to the doorway and stood up. Max hid behind the corridor.

Max could hear faint footsteps as Felix peered out the doorway. For a second, Max felt their eyes, but then his dad turned away chuckling, “Honey, there’s no one here, it’s probably just the wind.”

Felix closed the door shut, the rest of the conversation unheard by Max. He wanted to barge in to the door, shout and scream and ruin his parents’ perfect holiday. Instead, Max trudged upstairs, picking his pace.

He searched for Izair so they could get out of there.

“Hey, look what I bought-” Izair’s sentence cut short, his expression turned to worry as he saw Max. The radio went on repeat again.

M-A-M-A-B-O-Y,

mama's boy,

mama's boy…

Izair tugged Max further into the bookstore as the singing distanced.

Max felt something cold travel down his eyes, but he allowed it to flow anyways. He wanted to pile his emotions away in the cupboard, but this time he realized that the cupboard is already full.

Izair stopped in a corner, gesturing the bean bag. Max slumped onto the soft texture, feeling himself sink in, wishing to be swallowed.

“Max,” Izair stated firmly, “Don’t care about them. They’re idiots, so let them be.”

Max nodded weakly. Izair sat beside him, embracing him into a bear hug.

They sat like that together in silence seemingly for eternity, Izair gently patting Max’s back, rocking him sideways like when they were still kids. Izair’s shirt was probably stained with tears, but neither of them minded.

“Feeling better?” Izair asked. Max hummed, colder now that Izair pulled away.

"What did you buy anyways?"

"Just a postcard," Izair said, showing Max the said object. In the postcard, Florence was bathed in dawn light. A domed cathedral and several other towers stood proud amonst the other doll-like houses. The sky was tinted purple and gold. The mountains streched across the horizon and out of the hand-sized postcard. 

"Never pegged you as the vintage type," Max teased. 

Izair simply shrugged and explained, "Reminds me of this trip."

Max's ringtone surprised the duo. 

In confusion, Max answered the call without second thoughts.

“Hi Max, just wanted to make sure you’re alright,” Felix’s smooth voice came through the speaker, “Your mother said she swore she saw you with us.”

“No… no. I’m at home,” Max barely hided the anxiety in his voice.

“Are you alright?” Elisa asked in concern, “Should we come home?”

It’s not like you ever do, Max wanted to bite back.

Instead, Izair replied, “He’s fine, just had a spicy dinner.”

“Wait… Oh my god. Max, there is a humongous spider beside you,” Izair gestured to Max’s shoulder in horror before saying, “We got to go now. Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Clinton!”

Max whirled around. Nothing. He turned back to discover Izair laughing, rocking around, a glint in his eyes.

“You fell for it,” Izair announced smugly.

“Yeah, you’re an idiot.” Max laughed and pulled Izair up from the bean bag. 

Outside, the sky already turned dark. The duo raced back to the hotel.

The stars twinkled above them, rolling out an invisible red carpet.