All In Mid-August

by Nunzia Castaldo

  ***

  Trizia and Mark return home

  August 16, Tuesday afternoon

  The hour ticked past fifteen.

  Trizia and Marco arrived on time, in the lobby of the hotel, with bags packed and waiting for each supported at the opposite end of the same bench of acceptance. Soon after came their escort, the one that he had picked up at the airport. She wore the same uniform, but more wrinkled then. She was expecting the usual tourists. When half an hour later, finally arrived nearly everyone, she cleared his nasal voice and explained the situation, shouting, now that she was instinctively. "Have you seen today's windy and the sea is agitated; just now, but the more you delay the more you risk; we have to hurry and see if the hydrofoil part yet, otherwise we have to take the ferry".

  The visitors did not give much importance to his words. They were struggling with the bags do not forget, the last gift to be placed in the bags, postcards from the bellboy to leave the ship, calls for notice to be done at home. Trizia not expecting anyone at home and souvenirs in red hard case, they were packaged so that it would suffer setbacks in the luggage compartment of the plane. She thought that if you could dance a little ' to the sea, was amused. Marco sleepy and offended, others followed like an automaton. The micro taxi had arrived. Trizia thanked the manager for the exquisite and refined hospitality to its customers.

  They went out. The waves crashing on the rocks impetuous and disorderly and climbed up to the first steps of the entrance of the hotel, he saw the night of arrival. It seemed they had spent months, not just one week. He felt changed. The island had awakened the innermost part of his being, drowned in daily living of appearance. They arrived quickly at the port and stood under the awning. Trizia was careful about where he was going, did not want to leave his shoe. The guide they gathered. "So, have you seen the sea is worse; now you must take the ferry dock to another; everyone brings his suitcase and be careful."

  Hushed mutterings of squeaks and rattles plastic wheels unfit to undergo Shake up on the black volcanic stone lozenges irregular. They skirted the harbor to the sea through the eyes of the ancient submerged crater. From the mainland did not seem so rough. Once at the ferry went up the gangplank lorry. Trucks, cars and light transport were embarking. Between sounds sinister, the ferry swayed left and right while the means brake in his belly and were insured by huge steel hooks.

  "Damn it, you can dance for real!" Trizia said. Meanwhile, the guide stopped the benches of the wrappers and aft, and left that tourists disperse between the inside and the outside. Trizia wanted to give a final farewell to the island and watch the sea for as long as possible. She sat on a bench. Marco remained distant from her. A bus went up and he was chained. Groups went up the ladder and they settled at long tables with benches, as in the brewery. The siren sounded the last cry. The moorings were giving it up. The anchor was hoisted. The ferry maneuvered back to front, back, half turn and then off to catch the sea outside the harbor in the storm.

  The air was so clear to show the gulf islands and the coast in the sun. Surface waves, high and irregular, slapping the boat from all sides. Trizia was held stable fatigue attached in the back: "I sailed, know their stuff: sea captains are scrupulous, careful, and capable." She watched the tourists who were laughing and talking at the tables. They had bought many beers and occasionally he poured into glasses and sipped. Marco began to feel nauseous and turned away to take the air on his face.

  The ferry was pushed to cross the open sea. A wave higher and more powerful struck the side of the hull at the bow and hijacked. Bottles , glasses, inline objects tumbled on the quarterdeck , crunches, sizzling, sounds of breaking glass and comments in a low voice. Now the ferry resumed his route and forcing Rolling engines. The wind was reinforced. Now the stern and the bow were made to rise and fall as opposite ends of a seesaw. Trizia followed the horizon, thus counteracting the imbalance of dizziness scar on his ear. Staring out, bobbing up and down like an insect caught in the blades. In a moment went by to see, almost under his feet, the sea cobalt blue, gray and green in the distance and then the white foam and then land on the horizon and the blue sky and clouds thin, then even have time to recover by rocking the bow that already resurfaced and sky and horizon, and the blue sea below and hope not to end up in it, forever.

  Trizia was thrilled, excited and scared as ever, but there were those who needed his comfort that he was worse than her. Marco slumped on the bench, was in the throes of an obvious motion sickness . Him tenderly. Although he was alone. Approached him offering him support. " What does faints? " The strong wind rubbing her words and her red hair. "Do not tell me about it," replied folded in two. "Oh, he thought to make a will?" Laughed sadistic, at times he could not help himself. It looked better in the face. One eye was swollen toad.

  "What did you do to your eye?" Sputtered thin tuft, the wind had put in his mouth. "Nothing, nothing, an encounter with a bee" It made him very ill, but he would not have confessed. She ran a giggle throat. "Come on, that the worst is over; look there, Naples; how beautiful; you do not say - See Naples and then die - " Marco snapped clutching his thighs, knees knocking.

  The ferry went along the promontory of Posillipo. Ahead of them flowed the beautiful green areas, dotted with villas, gorges, caves and cliffs beaten by the wave, then the sumptuous buildings Bourbon, the promenade and the pier soon. The guide appeared. "Have you seen what happens: the sea is calm first and then ... No one threw up, right?" She paused with a look at the woman in skirt and jacket, holding his mouth with a paper towel. She continued: "Now you go up and the ferry moored on the bus that takes you to the airport; I wish you a good trip and I'll wait another year, goodbye."

  Trizia listened stretching the dress flax rust that the damp sea salt was crumpled like an accordion bellows. She felt sad and empty. The holidays had come to an end. She thought it was bad to lose his friendship. A little ' if it was sought the reaction insolent of him, should have been more explicit. "His company was very pleasant, I have to thank; I spent an interesting vacation; because I do not see you; we can go to museums together." He looked at her and shook his head. She continued: "Call me, my studio is on the list ." Mark looked at her puzzled. He was destabilized. Well, after all his toil had made, in part. We would have done a little thought. Yes, a little thought. In his own way, of course.

  Meanwhile they landed lenses. Trizia boarded the bus and sat in a window toward the bay and Vesuvius. Beautiful, she thought. His last thought, however, was to children and simple people he had met. The bus was now full. It was already boarding the lady on crutches. Trizia noticed that he walked very, very best. She thought to reinvigorating baths taken in the warm waters of the spa park and rising up from the bay. "A slice of heaven" let out. She immediately noticed the happy smile of him, while pointing. Then smiled and raised his voice. "Is just a slice of heaven; do not you think?"

  End

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