by Melissa Hill
Suddenly, tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Maia immediately jumped forward to put her arms around the young woman. As cleansing as her speech and her explanation about why she was in Italy might have been, it had obviously taken its toll on her.
“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I can say you are very strong being here, attending this wedding. I don’t know if I would have been able to do the same. What you are doing is very brave,” said Maia kindly.
Amelia sniffled. “My best friend said I was just sadistic.”
“No,” insisted Maia. “You’re not. I think you have a good philosophy actually—looking for closure. But if you really want to move on, you have to realise that just seeing him get married isn’t enough. I think there are plenty of people out there, men and women both, who have pined over someone who is unattainable—only to have their heart broken time and again.”
Lori was nodding, agreeing with Maia’s words. “Watch him get married. But you have to find a reason to check out before you head to the wedding, if you get my drift.”
Amelia wiped her eyes and furrowed her brow. “And how do I do that?”
Lori smiled. “I always say that the best way to get over a guy is to get under another. And hey, this is the perfect place for an Italian fling.”
Maia rolled her eyes and laughed. “Amelia, I don’t want to sound like an old fuddy-duddy—and while Lori means well—I’m not sure if immediately diving into another relationship, fling or not, is the best advice. I think what she meant to say is you have to figure out what makes you happy, outside of the way you might have felt, or feel, for this Aaron. I think you should figure out how to love yourself first, that’s the way to get closure. Because a woman who has confidence in who she is and what she has to offer, will never allow herself to be taken advantage of—and her happiness will never be held in the balance because of the actions of someone else.”
Camilla was once again smiling and nodding. “She’s right, you know. In my life, I never let any man be in charge of my happiness. And they follow me around. I pick who makes me happy. And he is lucky for it.”
Maia laughed loudly. If one thing was for sure, Camilla had no deficiency in the confidence department.
Later, Maia was keeping a watchful eye on the kitchen door as she and Camilla began the process of making dinner for the house. Amelia had been gone a while now, had left for a walk to “clear her head” but Maia still felt a great deal of concern for her. While she had never had children, she was pretty sure that Amelia was of the age where she could in fact, be Maia’s daughter—and she was feeling some maternal concern over the state that Amelia’s heart was in.
No one deserves to be put through such an ordeal, Maia thought to herself as she breaded chicken breast filets, to feel like you have to watch the love of your life get married, just to find closure.
She was sure that she could never put herself through the same sort of scenario—she could have never watched Jim marry another woman.
Do you think I gave her good advice, honey? she asked, turning her thoughts to the ether. It sounded like Amelia had been put through the ringer by this Aaron fellow, and while it was true that she wasn’t sure if he had been cheating on her with his co-worker, the signs pointed to this.
Maia also felt confident in the idea that if there was one spot where Amelia might be able to find peace, it was here. Maybe it was a blessing then, that the wedding just happened to be taking place in Sorrento. Maybe Amelia was meant to come, and stay here in the home that Maia and Jim had created, just to find herself.
She felt comforted by the thought. Maybe she had been right to do this. It looked like all this was about more than just providing shelter and a bed to weary travellers. Thinking of the diverse little group that was lodging in her home at that moment, Maia wondered if maybe they all weren’t there for a bigger purpose.
7
“Oh, he’s back! He’s back!” Camilla exclaimed just then, quickly turning her attention from the kitchen window to her cleavage. Standing up straighter and adjusting the neckline of the top she was wearing, she then brushed her dark hair back and fluffed it. Tossing it seductively, she looked at Maia. “How do I look?”
“What do you want me to say? Hot?”
“Yes. Am I hot?” pressed Camilla.
Maia nodded. “Yes, you’re definitely hot.” In more ways than one, she thought with a smile.
“Good. I hope he likes Pollo alla Cacciatora.”
Maia simply hoped for Jacob’s sake that he was hungry this evening—otherwise Camilla was going to be completely unforgiving if another dish was wasted on him.
The kitchen door opened shortly thereafter, and Jacob entered. His eyes quickly darted around the room, assessing the situation and finally fell on Camilla, who was all but preening under his gaze. “Welcome back Jacob ,” she smiled sweetly. “You have great timing. We are just finishing dinner. I hope you are hungry now.”
Jacob instinctively put a hand over his stomach and Camilla’s eyes followed, no doubt imagining taut six-pack abs. For a moment however, he looked poised to decline the invite, but then Maia spoke.
“I hope you know it’s bad luck to turn down the culinary efforts of an Italian woman two times in a row,” she said over her shoulder. “If your family is Italian that should be part of your genetic makeup.”
Jacob opened his mouth to probably argue that point, but then he shut it again and provided them both with an unexpected, but incredibly handsome, smile. It wasn’t the first time they saw him smile, but it was the first time that it looked genuine. He put up his hands, signalling defeat. “I think you might be right Maia. I surrender. And yes I’ll eat. Sorry, sitting down for dinner isn’t something that I think about a lot. I haven’t eaten since I was on the plane, and that wasn’t much.”
Camilla looked confused. “How on earth do you not think about eating? And you call yourself Italian? Now go, sit.”
Jacob did as he was told, taking a seat at the kitchen table. After considering Maia’s offer of a beverage and settling on a Peroni, because he said he “needed it,” he sat back in his chair, and rolled up the sleeves of the white dress shirt he was wearing.
“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip of the beer from the bottle. He swallowed and took a deep breath.
Maia went about setting the table for six, anticipating that all of her guests would eventually sit down and eat at some point.
“Been a bit of a hard day then?” Maia commented off-handedly, hoping she wasn’t overstepping her boundaries.
But he appeared to be a bit more relaxed than he had been earlier.
“Understatement of the year. Kind of throws your life out of whack, when you wake up one morning and all is normal, but by the end of the day you are on a flight to Italy. Not the best time honestly, and it’s hard for me to get away even when I plan a trip for months.”
Maia nodded politely.
“So is it your job then? The reason you don’t think about eating?” Camilla asked, unconcerned about protocol.
Though Maia agreed he seemed like your typical New Yorker, fast, urgent-minded, short of time.
“I suppose you could say that. I’m a hedge fund manager.”
“Wall Street?” Maia asked.
He ran a lazy hand through his hair. “Yes. Go ahead, you can cast the stereotypes out there right now. I don’t mind.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Not my style.”
Camilla placed a bottle of sparkling water on the table. “So you had to leave New York fast then?”
Jacob shrugged. “If I’m being honest, I wasn’t going to come at all but I was receiving pressure from a persistent female to do the right thing. And like you said Maia, it’s not wise to argue with Italian women.”
Camilla’s eyes darted to Jacob’s left hand.
“Pressure, from your wife?” she queried. She knew some men didn’t wear a wedding ring. “Or your girlfriend?” she added coyly.
B
ut Jacob shook his head and took another sip of his Peroni. “I’m single,” he smiled, his eyes involuntarily and briefly appreciating the cleavage that Camilla had been intent on showing off. “It was my sister actually. She lives in Boston, but she has been here for about a month, helping out. She insisted that I get my ass over here.”
Maia grimaced. “So your father is badly ill then?” she commented gently.
“He’s been dying for years,” Jacob said, bitterness creeping into his voice. “But Adriana, my sister, said this time it’s for real. He has cancer.” Maia exchanged a glance with Camilla—where their conversation had been somewhat easy going, awkwardness had now crept in. “Sorry, I don’t mean to come across that way. It’s just, my dad and I don’t get along.”
Maia pondered what to say next. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
Jacob thanked Camilla as she placed a chicken breast and pasta on his plate and offered him salad and garlic bread. He picked up his fork and sat silent for a moment, as if figuring out whether or not he did want to speak.
Finally, he took a deep breath. “My mom, sister and I, we moved to New York when I was four, Adriana was seven. You see, my dad, he had left my mother—and she found that she didn’t have a bunch of options here in Italy as a single mother. So she took us and left. He didn’t fight her on it. And he started a new family—just like that, like we had never existed. But my mom, she was just responsible for rebuilding her entire life, with two little kids, in a foreign country, all by herself, she worked as a cleaning lady, scrimped and saved, did everything she could for us, just to get by—he never helped. Hell, he could barely even be bothered to send us birthday presents.” He took a bite of his meal and his eyebrows rose out of appreciation. “This is great, seriously - fantastic,” he said to Camilla, who looked as proud as punch at his compliment. “Anyway my mom always did well by us, and since I have been an adult, I have always been intent on paying her back, for all of her sacrifices—I bought her a townhouse in Brooklyn, she wanted something with a yard. I make sure she always has what she needs and more. But him, well, I don’t have a lot of patience for him. Real men don’t leave their wives, abandon their families. That’s just how I feel.”
Maia put her fork on her plate as she considered Jacob’s admission.
“So your sister is closer to him, yes?” Camilla ventured.
Jacob nodded. “Adriana’s always been a more forgiving person. But I suppose that she also remembers some of the happy times with him. She was older than me—I just don’t remember him being anything other than a jerk—and my mom’s struggle, after he left us, that’s always been forefront in my mind. Adriana thinks that she convinced me to come over here out of some sort of duty—but I can’t say that I did for that reason.”
Maia finished chewing the food in her mouth and swallowed. “So why did you come?” she asked tentatively.
Jacob seemed to consider his answer. A beam of sun suddenly entered from the kitchen window, striking the table where they sat—fading in its light against the pale pink backdrop of the summer sky. “I suppose I came because I wanted to show him I am successful, and that I don’t pity him—that we don’t have a relationship and we never will, because soon, he’ll be dead, and I’ll go on with my life like he never existed.”
Maia felt a bit blind-sided by just how frank this dinner table admission was. “Are you sure you want to feel that way?” she asked.
But Jacob didn’t have time to answer because the backdoor opened and Amelia strode in. Her cheeks were rosy and she looked the tiniest bit windblown. She definitely looked…happier.
“Oh,” she stumbled. “I seem to keep interrupting when people are eating.”
“Nonsense,” said Maia, jumping up. “It’s what you do in Italy—eat—several times per day. Please, sit down. What can I get you to drink?”
And just like that the increasingly difficult conversation with Jacob was forgotten—Maia didn’t think it was right to continue, not with the new introduction of Amelia to the group, nor did she think it appropriate to ask Amelia how she was feeling. So the table kept to neutral topics—jobs, hobbies, favorite travel spots and the like.
Through it all, Hal and Lori never showed up for dinner. Maia was pretty sure they were both still in the house—she didn’t think they had left.
When dinner was over, Camilla began cleaning up with Amelia’s help. Maia advised them to make sure they put some leftovers to the side, in case Lori or Hal got hungry later. With that, she walked in the direction of their room to let them know that there was food if they wanted it.
But as she neared their door, she was immediately hit with the sound of raised, albeit muffled, voices coming from within their room.
“No, you don’t understand Hal. You are one of the most insensitive people I have ever met. We are in Italy for God’s sakes. And what do you do? You want to fix the goddamn air conditioning at the place we are staying. Why don’t you just say it? That you don’t want to be here? That you have checked out of this marriage?” cried Lori.
Maia felt a surge of embarrassment rush through her and she slowly stepped away. As the argument became more heated, she knew without a doubt that she didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, should either one of them open the door, and she also knew that this was none of her business. She hoped that her footsteps were not making any noise on the wood floors beneath her.
“What do you want from me Lori? Just tell me and I’ll do it. And why would you say that? That I’ve checked out. I swear to God, I can’t do anything right. I really can’t, not with you, not anymore. I agreed to come to Italy. I agreed to this guesthouse. I agreed to this downtime because you said we needed it—I don’t know what else to do for you!”
Finding sanctuary in the kitchen, Maia couldn’t help but feel upset over what she had heard between the fighting couple. She excused herself and went outside, where the cool night breeze whipped tendrils of her hair from her temples and the scent of lemons fragranced the air around her. Maia walked down the path from her house, toward the road and the cliff side, determined to find a bit of solitude to clear her head. And she knew just the spot.
Finding her way easily to a small overlook that gave a clear view of the city lights of Naples at night, she felt herself calming down as she walked. However, she was shocked to find that when she reached her goal, she was not alone—Jacob had apparently found this secret place too. And he was so fully immersed in taking in the view that he didn’t hear Maia’s footsteps as she approached.
“Hello,” she said softly, announcing her presence. She certainly didn’t want to shock anyone when they were standing that close to the side of a small mountain. “I didn’t realise this place was that easy to find,” she said with a smile.
Jacob turned around, finally realising he was no longer alone.
“Oh, hey, I’m sorry, I was just walking a bit and I stumbled upon this area. A bit off the beaten path, yes? I hope you don’t mind. If you needed some time alone, I can go,” he offered.
But Maia waved a dismissive hand. “Please, not a problem at all. It will be nice to have some company here. I haven’t in some time.” She took a seat on the grass. “Care to join me? Best seat in the house.” She patted the soft ground next to her, and Jacob dutifully sat.
The young man next to Maia sighed deeply as he got comfortable and cast his eyes out over the Neapolitan vista. The seashore was dotted with lights and low lying buildings filled the Napoli harbor. The sky had not fully given up the setting sun, and off into the West, the last remnants of daylight headed toward Jacob’s New York.
“It sure looks different - from the skyline of New York that is.”
“It is quite different yes,” agreed Maia.
“Have you been? To New York that is?” Jacob asked to which Maia offered an affirmative nod.
“Twice, but not recently. Once as a teenager and once with my husband, Jim, right after we were married. It’s a great city.
I don’t suppose I could live there though. I like the quiet this place offers. I feel like I might be a fish out of water in a place like that,” she smiled, turning her eyes to Jacob, who was now looking back at the city beneath them. He had a strong Italian profile—like many of the men that she saw here each day. There was no denying he was handsome, she could see why Camilla was attracted, but he was much more refined than most of the men she met.
Probably because he was a full on New Yorker and had been his whole life. But, she knew Italian passion that still drove through his veins. His feelings toward his father were evidence of that.
“Do you remember Sorrento at all?” she asked. “I know you were very young when you left.”
Jacob shrugged. “There are snippets, I guess. Little memories. I don’t know if they’re real or if it’s something I saw in one of my mother’s photo albums. Honestly, probably one of my most clear memories is of going to Pompeii, probably right before we left for the U.S. I remember thinking it was absolutely hilarious that there were pictures of naked people, now I realise in various sex positions, on the walls of one of the buildings. It was a brothel that serviced the city,” he laughed. “But I was just a little boy who thought it was funny—these naked people painted on the walls, all twisted around each other. I didn’t know what the purpose of the establishment, I guess you might say, was.” He laughed. “It’s weird the things you remember.”
Maia nodded and smiled. “I deal with some of the same. Little random things—especially when it comes to my husband. Like the time that we got into an argument about something while sitting at the dinner table—I can’t even recall what—but during the whole thing, he had this piece of corn stuck on his cheek. And I was so mad at him that I just let it sit there. It honestly made me feel better. It’s hard to argue with someone who has food on their face. But I always wondered, after he died, like why did I remember that? Out of all things? What was its significance to my life?”