One Italian Summer(45)

“My most recent ex was more of a Rome person, truth be told,” Adam says, reading me. “She was from Tuscany and had some prejudice against Amalfi.”

“Is that a thing?”

Adam shrugs. “Some Italians think the coast is too overrun, too touristy, too expensive.”

“It is all those things,” I say.

“Yes,” Adam says. “But I mean, look at this.”

He gestures out to the ocean. To the rocks beyond. To the water and sky that look too technicolor to be real.

“What happened to her? Why did it end, I mean.”

Adam picks up his water glass. “She wanted to live in Italy, and she didn’t want me to travel. We fought about it all the time. She wanted a life she deserved to have, but it wasn’t realistic for me. Last I heard, she got married in Florence. That was two years ago already. Crazy how time flies.”

I can tell this still pains Adam. Or did, once. That there’s something open or unhealed there.

“How long were you together?”

“Three years,” he says. “Off and on.” He looks at me. “It’s hard for me to stay in one place. Sometimes I think it didn’t work because it wasn’t right, and sometimes I think it didn’t work because I refused to let it.”

I think about Eric, in our house, fifteen minutes from my parents. Our shared four restaurants, movie nights at the Grove. Concerts at the Hollywood Bowl. My whole life that has taken place in a ten-mile radius. I’ve been resistant to change, too. To letting someone change me.

Adam sets his water glass down with a clunk. “So what do you want to do now?” he asks me. “We could explore Capri. We can go shopping. We can go eat at the lemon tree.”

The city center of Capri is up the hill from us. The problem is that the only way to get there is by foot, scaling the pathway up from the ocean. And after this morning’s stair climb, I’m not sure I have the energy for ten thousand more steps.

“We could also go by boat to Marina Piccola and then walk,” Adam offers.

I sit back. I see our beach chairs below us.

“You know what I really want to do?” I say to Adam.

“Tell me.”

“Nothing,” I say.

Adam smiles. “You sure?” he says. “We’re already here. And Capri is pretty great. Great shopping, great bars.”

“I’ve seen pictures,” I say. “There’s a Prada store.”

“There are a lot of small boutiques. I thought that might be your thing. You dress well, different.”

“Thanks,” I say. Although, I’d never describe my style as different. Derivative with a twist, maybe. “I do like to shop, but today I just want to be here and not feel like there’s anywhere I have to go or anything I have to do. Is that okay?”

Adam gives me a slow nod. “Yes,” he says. “That is very much okay.”

For the next four hours, all we do is nap and swim. It’s heaven. I go from the ocean to the beach lounger to the rocks and back. That’s it, that’s all. Just the simplicity of water and rocks and stunning views. There is wine and water and icy lemonade. I reapply sunscreen, and Adam switches chairs with me once the umbrella can no longer cover us both. He reads. I close my eyes, and for the first time in months, there is a pleasant blankness there. I am not met with images of hospitals, or questions about my future, the uncertainty of what’s to come. All I feel is this—this complete embrace of the present.

When four-thirty rolls around, we see Amelio bobbing on the water. Adam waves and we pack up, making our way to the dock as he slowly pulls in.

We board. My skin is full of salt water and sunscreen, and my cover-up is tucked in my bag. I haven’t put it on once.

“Nice?” Amelio asks.

“The best,” I say. “I think I might move here.” I imagine a life full of endless beach days.

As we pull away from La Fontelina, I see the rocks of Faraglioni ahead. A few boats are passing under. A couple kisses in the archway.

“Would you like to go?” Amelio asks.

Adam looks to me. “Sure,” he says. We’re on the leather front of the boat. He sits up and slides his arms around his knees. “I feel I should give you the full Capri experience.”

My heart starts pounding. I have no idea what he means by that. Does he want me to see the nature-made architectural wonder, up close? Or is he going to kiss me under those rocks? What’s the full experience?

The thump of my pulse gets louder and louder like approaching horses. I feel the question hang there between us as we drive toward the rocks.

Once we’re close, Amelio slows the engine. Adam stretches his legs out in front of him and leans back on his hands. He tilts his head to the side to look at me. But he doesn’t move his body, not yet.

“Here go!” Amelio calls.

We begin to pull through the archway. There is a cool breeze off the water, and we’re surrounded by rocks. I sense Adam close to me, closer than he was mere moments ago. I sense his skin—salty, warm—and the brush of his clothing.

We’re fully encapsulated now. The moment hovers around us like an air bubble, threatening to pop.

“Katy,” Adam says. His voice is barely above a whisper, and I turn to him. He’s looking at me with so much intensity I think he’s going to kiss me. He’s really going to do it. The seconds crawl by like years. Time, doubled over, lapsed, like it is here, now, doesn’t hold the same weight. It doesn’t mean the same thing. We are young and we are old and we are coming and going, all at once.