by Prosecco
‘So you choose to believe?’ I asked him.
‘Of course you choose. You don’t just follow things blindly without questioning. Especially when you’re a lawyer. Do you believe in anything?’
‘I believe in starting over,’ I said, and walked a little faster.
Chapter Eleven
When we got back on the boat that afternoon, I was sad to go back. I didn’t want to leave this perfect day behind, and yet, I was grateful for it. A whole day where I had not felt guilty, or broken. A day of learning and being inspired.
‘Thank you,’ I said, turning to Salvatore, who was sitting next to me, saying nothing. I almost suspected he was napping behind his dark sunglasses, the fading sun in the distance.
‘What for?’ He didn’t miss a beat.
‘Today was a good day.’
He smiled, like he couldn’t understand why every day wouldn’t be a good day, why every day couldn’t be just like this.
I traced the lines of him in my mind, the curve of his lip and the folded arms, so much like a cheerful child.
One day, I’ll tell you, I thought to myself. I’ll tell you why I’m here.
And then I realized there’d be no point. By the time I got the call, my life would have changed. I would be back home and in a different world entirely. There would never be ‘one day’. And I couldn’t even hover near the truth without getting emotional. I didn’t do emotional. It was like it was catching, all these Italians caring so much about everything. Hera’s peacock feather, Juno’s two faces, one for Salvatore, one for me, each looking out at different directions. Different histories and different futures.
We were in the in-between, both of us. Waiting for the next portion of our lives to start. There was no point pursuing anything, because people can’t have a future when they don’t even know what their present is.
And yet… I loved to hear him laugh, or see that little line when he frowned in concentration. I liked to see how that eyebrow raised when I impressed him, or surprised him. I liked finding a little space in my own history of the island, someone I could laugh with and feel alive with. I had become so used to hiding parts of myself – and now I wanted… something else.
We were quiet as we left the boat, and arrived back in Sant’Angelo. Something had shifted, and felt serious and heavy, like a wet towel around my shoulders. I wanted to return to how fun it had been, light and friendly. We had worked hard to get here – I didn’t want talk of death and love and big heavy things to destroy that.
I put a hand on his arm. ‘Come and have a drink.’
He considered me carefully, eyes narrowing as he considered it. ‘Why?’
‘Because you gave me a wonderful day, and I want to thank you.’
He was torn, I could tell. I had done that before, been my usual sharp self, and driven people away before they had a chance to know me. I didn’t want to do that again.
‘I promised my cousin I would go to the bar she works at. It’s karaoke night. And I think we might get to see one of the famous proposals.’ I wiggled my eyebrows, trying to be the most charming version of myself. ‘Come on, someone being humiliated by the woman he loves in front of his whole village for the hundredth time – that’s fun, right?’
‘Don’t feel too sorry for Enzo, he brings it on himself,’ Salvatore said, still distracted. ‘You going to sing, then?’
‘I sound like a seagull with a fishbone stuck in its throat…’I watched his face; it was unyielding. ‘But if it’s the only way to get you to come with me, I will sing.’
‘Brilliant!’ He clapped his hands together, suddenly cheery. ‘Let’s go then!’
He offered his arm, guiding me away from the car, and we walked down the cobblestone streets, nodding good evening to people as we walked. The sun was setting and I suddenly realized how exhausted I was.
‘So, what shall we do at the shop tomorrow?’ I asked him, my arm tucked through the crook of his elbow. It was so old-fashioned, strangely intimate, but I enjoyed it. It made me wonder if my mother had done this, wandered along the front as a teenager, sipping cocktails and singing. I bet she sounded fantastic.
‘Tomorrow? Let’s just live, huh?’ He nudged me, suddenly so happy again.
‘You sound like your grandfather.’
‘I guess I do.’ He grinned. ‘About damn time.’
When we got to the bar, it was already busy. As busy as it could be on a tiny island on a Thursday evening. People were laughing, drinking, ready to be rowdy. But it felt safe, it felt comfortable. I tried to imagine my life here, just sitting with Nikki every Thursday, laughing my way through karaoke. I wondered if Salvatore would be sitting next to me at the bar, like he was just then, his shoulder against mine as he ordered us two beers, yelling at the bartender, launching himself up to shake hands.
Nikki grinned and waved madly from across the bar where she was serving three customers at once. ‘You’re here!’ she shouted, and I gave her a thumbs up.
‘No ring?’ I yelled back, and she rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. I felt a sudden affection for my little cousin.
The bar was strange and spangly, all brightly coloured lights strung around the bar, with a stage set up for karaoke. There were a few tables around in front of the stage, already full. It looked like the owner had seen a picture of a tiki bar once, at a distance, and decided it was a great addition to the island.
‘Oh, it’s happening tonight, definitely,’ Salvatore pointed his bottle towards the front row. ‘All Enzo’s friends. That’s him.’
The boy grinning at the centre table looked unbelievably young and fresh-faced. He nudged his friends, whooping and laughing as they chattered.
‘How on earth is he so young?’
Salvatore laughed. ‘You thought he’d be a haggard old fisherman?’
‘I thought he’d be old enough to grow facial hair.’
He nudged my arm, spilling a little beer. ‘You don’t get how it works out here. Those kids have been in love since for ever. They grew up in love. That’s just the way it is here.’
I gave him a look. ‘Like my mum and your dad?’
‘Fair point.’ He snorted. ‘Thank God.’
I looked at him in surprise, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at the stage, his smile widening second by second as the cheering started. Salvatore nudged me again. ‘Watch.’
This much I could say immediately: Enzo was cute, and young and painfully earnest. But he could not sing for shit. His voice was loud and off-key, and as he warbled in Italian, his eyes only on Nikki as she pretended to ignore him, I stopped feeling sorry for him, because he was so enjoying himself.
‘Here it goes…’ Salvatore fought a grin, shaking his head.
At the beginning of the next chorus, his friends all stood up, marching onto the stage and swaying behind him, making do-wop noises in between his words.
Trying to hold in giggles watching a bunch of burly fishermen shimmy and shake on the stage is no easy feat. Enzo finished off his dedicated song by jumping up onto the bar and waving a ring underneath Nikki’s nose until she looked up, pressing her lips together as she tried not to laugh.
My cousin raised an eyebrow and caught my eye, as if to say, Are you seeing this? See what I mean?
I could tell when Enzo proposed, even though he spoke Italian. Somehow, those words sound the same in any language. All buoyant, his voice hammed up for the crowd, Enzo must have known this wouldn’t be the time.
Sure enough, her lip jutting, Nikki shook her head. ‘No,’ she laughed, but didn’t stop smiling, taking his face in both her hands and kissing him. ‘No.’
He threw up his hands, shrugged and jumped off the bar, smile on his face. His friends patted him on the back, cheering, and handed him a beer. I was starting to get the sense the proposal was the thing to celebrate, rather than the answer.
‘I think it’s good she doesn’t say yes just because everyone tells her to. That’s how people get hurt,’ Salvato
re said.
‘Looks like someone’s gotten even more hidden history than I thought,’ I replied. ‘I thought you never had anything serious?’
He looked into the distance, swirling the beer around his bottle. ‘I never did. My brother did, once before. When you’ve got nothing else, and you feel like you’re scrabbling to make everyone proud, you think being adult is buying a ring and making promises you don’t understand.’
‘You’re too smart for that,’ I nodded, approving. I tapped the top of his beer bottle with mine, in solidarity.
He laughed, ‘God, I hope not.’
I watched him, suddenly even more intrigued by this man who had acted as a child in so many ways since I’d met him. He’d first been a surly teenager, almost a protective grandchild, standing there waving his cardboard sword at the dragon. He’d been sharp and rude, and kind and funny. And he wanted to be in love. He wanted to be stupid and sweet and ridiculous.
‘If you want this, why don’t you take out those girls your mother keeps bringing to you? Embrace it?’
He leaned on the bar, eyes intense as he searched for the right words. ‘It’s like you with the museum… you’re looking for the story, the glitter, the moment, yes? My story is not on this island. Not with a girl I’ve known since I was four, running around naked on the beach!’
I blinked, unsure what to do with that image.
‘When I find the girl I’m meant to bring a coffee to every morning, I’ll know. Just like Enzo knows.’ He tipped his head towards the bar, where Nikki and Enzo were wrapped around each other, apparently neither of them bothered that they weren’t engaged.
There was another round of drinks, and then another. There was the vague memory of me standing on stage, my arms wrapped around Nikki as we both warbled along to something old and unlikely. Frank Sinatra, I think. And then there was dancing. A few of Enzo’s friends got out their guitars, and the remainder of the tourists clapped and cheered. Cheery English women with burnt noses were whisked from their seats by toned young fishermen, and they looked thrilled about it.
Salvatore and I danced, not slow but fast, him spinning me out and back, twirling me under his arm. We couldn’t stop laughing, leaning against each other as we gasped for breath, tripping over each other’s feet. He kept pushing his hair back, eyes bright as he laughed, and… I felt it. That sudden importance, a tightening of my chest as he pulled me close and tried to lead me. I wanted to rest my lips against his neck and press myself against him, making him hold me tighter.
It felt like being a teenager again, carefree and drunk on life, pulling a beautiful boy closer and demanding he kiss me. But I was an adult now; there were consequences. A few drinks, a day of ancient history and dancing didn’t mean… it didn’t mean I felt anything. It just meant that hidden in the crowds of dancers on the floor, our foreheads touching as we looked down, concentrating on the steps of what seemed to be a salsa, it was easy to lift my head, let my lips brush his, almost accidentally, and wait for him to respond.
It was less than a second, his lips on mine, soft and hungry and close. I ran my fingers through his hair, and somehow it was like we were still dancing, still swaying in the crowd, the music thrumming in my blood. When we pulled apart, breathing heavily, I couldn’t look at him. Nothing had changed, the crowd still danced around us, time hadn’t stood still, no one had noticed us at all. And yet I felt his fingertips on my cheek, and then his body against mine as he moved in closer, whispering in my ear. ‘Shall I walk you home?’
I looked up, and there was no promise in his eyes, no awkwardness. He was just smiling, waiting for me to smile back. Why did everything have to be serious, anyway? Why couldn’t I have fun?
I laced my fingers in his, and nodded, letting him lead me through the tangle of people on the dance floor and out of the door. As I left, I caught Nikki’s eye, her eyebrow raised as she looked past me. Then she pointed to her mouth, grinning. ‘Smile!’ she yelled and I waved, resisting rolling my eyes as I stepped into the quiet.
Everything else in Sant’Angelo was quiet. A few couples strolled arm in arm, finishing their ice creams, or were sitting by the water. The lights shone from the bar, reflected in the water. It had never been more beautiful. A wave of fresh cool air after dancing like a banshee made me feel alive.
And then there was him. Looking at me, waiting to see what my reaction was. Whether I was going to smile and flirt, or bite his head off. Poor guy. I just wanted to fall into him, ignore everything about my life except those lips. I smiled and he reached for me again, tipping my head back and kissing me.
There are kisses that are unimpressive – there’s nothing wrong with them, all the mechanics work, but there’s no spark. Nothing in the engine. Salvatore’s kisses were like fire. I felt them everywhere. And, even as the rational, cynical part of my brain was begging me to run, I clung to him.
Kissing in the moonlight by the water, with a beautiful man who made me feel something… I stored that moment up as something wonderful that I knew would, sooner or later, become just a memory.
Chapter Twelve
I was reading about Saint Gennaro, refusing to move from my bed. Last night and its consequences hovered like a hangover and I was not ready for the day to start. When I put down my book and left my room, life would begin again.
Texts from Savvy sat unanswered on my phone. She was so thrilled that there was finally something fun to gossip about, and didn’t want to be left behind. But already I was regretting my carefree attitude the night before.
It was nothing, we had kissed. And yet, it wasn’t nothing. It was very much a something. I wasn’t sure I had ever been kissed like that – where everything was so incredibly right. Even the thought of it made my cheeks warm.
Before last night, I had promised to go to the shop, to carry on with our work, but now? My whole body flushed at the idea.
The light was hovering behind the blue bedroom curtains, and I heard a gentle knock on the door. I croaked out a response, trying to sit up. Oh God, did Allegra see us the night before?
Nikki peered round the door, holding up two mugs of coffee almost as a question.
‘Can I come in?’
‘Yeah, course. Aren’t you tired? When did you finish work?’
She shrugged. ‘The tourist season has barely started. Ladies with their four cocktail limits and men who drink weak beer. But I don’t want to talk about work! What was that last night?’
‘Your hundredth proposal?’ I played dumb, sipping my coffee.
‘Salvatore, the town’s most eligible bachelor, attached to you like an octopus.’
‘So, was that the most outrageous proposal, or were the others bigger?’ I asked her, completely ignoring her question.
My cousin narrowed her eyes, leaning forward. ‘Why aren’t you talking about this?’
‘Because I’m not fifteen? I don’t want to gossip about boys! I don’t want to think about what it means! I just want to feel good and be happy for a while.’ Before everything goes to shit.
Nikki sat back, a little hurt. ‘I wasn’t trying to gossip… I was checking you’re okay. That’s all.’
I closed my eyes, irritated at myself. ‘I’m sorry. I’m fine. I’m just… I don’t want to think, any more. You know?’
Nikki smiled at me, suddenly older than she was. ‘I do know. I definitely know. And now I’m going back to bed. See you later.’
I lay there for a minute, wondering what the day would hold. Wondering if I’d get a call from Marjorie, or if Dad was thinking of me. I wondered if this would be the day I went downstairs and my grandmother would see me, acknowledge my existence. And then I stopped. Because my lips felt bruised and there was a small bite on my neck and if I closed my eyes, I could still feel his hands around my waist, holding me close.
* * *
Not thinking. Not thinking was the way forward.
I pulled on my workout clothes and my running shoes, and put my headphones in. The sun was soft in th
e sky, nowhere near as hot as it would become, and it felt powerful to pound on the paving stones, running down the long, slanted steps of the village, down to the beach and round. Watching those few early birds walking by the waves, or local shop owners sipping their morning cappuccinos. I saw Enzo, swimming in the water, probably overcoming a hangover, and he waved as I ran past. I smiled and waved back, then refocused.
I carried on up, and up, jumping from step to step, until I reached the stairs that climbed even further into the mountain. In Sant’Angelo, you never really got lost, as long as you could find the sea. It was easy to get turned around, lose your place, but if I could make it back to the water I knew I’d be okay.
I stood at the top of a precipice, looking out at the brightly coloured houses, the vibrant plants, the sun now fully beating down on the town and its people. I felt, in that moment, supremely grateful to my father. He may have pushed me away, denied me the chance to be there for him, chosen his wife over me for those final moments, but he had given me the gift of this place, home to my mother’s memories. It was important to be grateful.
By the time I made it back to the house, a couple of hours had passed. I was sweating profusely, worried about burning my nose, and desperate for water. As I walked in I was greeted with laughter coming from the kitchen, and when I walked through, there sat Salvatore, chatting with Allegra and Nikki.
‘Morning! Didn’t realize you were sporty,’ he said, with that twinkle in his eye. And then he winked at me.
What is it with men when they think that they have you? I couldn’t tell if the confidence was attractive or irritating, but I damn well didn’t want him telling Allegra anything. She’d be picking out her hat for the wedding and the names of our kids before I could scream.
‘Salvatore came to see if you wanted to go to Antonio’s, Mia,’ my aunt said awkwardly, like a friend had come to ask if I could stay for tea. She was so clearly thrilled, it pained me.