“We’re good. In fact, we’re having the time of our lives. We went on a boat tour yesterday and today we spent some time by the water getting some sun.” Leah continues to go on and on about the hotel we’re staying in and the gorgeous pool she sat by today. I have to give the girl credit, she doesn’t lie once.
Bend the truth? Sure.
Lie? Absolutely not.
Mom and Leah have a lively conversation. Every once in a while, Leah gets carried away in her conversation, and Mom makes comments like, “You’re so fresh” and “Behave.”
The two of them have a comfortable relationship. They can get silly with each other. Actually, that’s just Leah. It’s in her nature to draw you in and make you feel as comfortable as possible.
“How’s Emma? Is she there with you?” Mom asks.
I shake my head dramatically but Leah’s flashes a huge smile and says, “She’s right here.”
I pinch my lips together, scowling at Leah but my face quickly turns into a polite smile when the screen is turned in my direction.
Mom is sitting there wearing a T-shirt with an orange calico cat on it that says, “Every life should have 9 cats.” It’s early in Ohio so she must be getting ready to go out in the garden.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, baby. How are you feeling?” she asks, her voice turning down an octave from when she was talking to Leah.
I run my nails along my neck and scratch down the sides. “I’m good. Just as Leah said, having a great time.”
Mom moves closer to the screen as if she can see me better if she rests her retinas against the glass. “Leah said you went out to a club. Did you have fun?”
“I did.”
“You’re getting out and seeing the sites?”
“We are.”
“Are you eating?” Her eyes skim my face.
“I am.” Leah’s staring at me from the other side of the screen. She doesn’t understand how I can answer in two-word answers. She is the world’s biggest chatterbox.
“Is it beautiful?” Mom asks and I find myself smiling out of natural instinct. Capri is the most magnificent place. We’ve only been here for three days yet I can commit to memory every sparkle of the sun on the copper landscape and every crash of a wave against the granite rock. It is as if I were meant to be here. I just feels right.
“More so than I’ll ever be able to describe.”
Mom’s eyes crinkle as her cheeks rise up. “That’s good to hear, baby.” She shifts in her seat and then leans forward again. “I’m glad you’re together. It’s your brother’s birthday soon. He’d be so happy you two are in such a beautiful place.” Mom’s eyes tear up at the mention of Luke and I have to turn my head to the side and take in a deep breath.
Luke.
We don’t talk about Luke. At least, I don’t. What is there to say? If it wasn’t for me and my stupid relationship and my stupid desire to get out then he would still be here.
I can’t stand to see the sadness in my mom’s eyes, nor can I handle her seeing me break down. I turn the iPad away from me and point it back toward Leah whose mouth is wide open. Her face is giving me a what-the-fuck expression.
Rising from the bed, I leave Leah to talk to my mom while I head out of the room. I open the sliding door, step out on the portico and walk through it to the grassy area looking over the Marina Grande.
The sun is still out but the sky is taking an orange-ish color, as the sun is in the early stages of its decent. Plopping down on the grass, I pull my legs in to my chest and rest my chin on my knees.
I am so far away from home. So far away from the troubles that leave me feeling broken and afraid. It doesn’t matter how far away you are from your problems, they live with you, deep inside your soul. You cannot escape.
My throat heaves out and I bellow from deep inside my gut. I know I am a bitch. No one needs to explain it to me. My poor mother lost a son and instead of thinking about how sad she must be that her baby boy’s birthday is in two days and he isn’t here to see it, I am so caught up in my own selfish head. I can’t comfort her because I don’t even know how to process it all.
Luke was my baby as well. I was only four years old when Mom and Dad brought him home, but I remember it vividly. He was wearing a soft blue layette with white ruffle trim.
The first time they placed Luke in my arms I was nervous. He was so small and delicate. The adults kept on chanting things like “Watch his head” and “Hold on tight.” He had light red hair and these dark eyes like mine and Mom’s. When they looked up at me for the first time I was in love.
When Luke was old enough to sleep in his own bed he would go in properly at night, just as Mom and Dad told him to. But every night, like clockwork, he would crawl into my bed when the adults were asleep. He said he was afraid of the dark, but I think he just wanted to be close to me. When Mom and Dad found us snuggled together in the morning they never said a word.
When Mom started driving me to Pittsburgh for music lessons, Luke would come for the ride. He had to endure four hours in a car and more hanging with my mom in a lobby, waiting for me to finish my lesson. Leah kicked and screamed when she had to go, so Mom made arrangements for her to stay with a friend on those days. Luke was different. He came because it was important to Mom and me.
I went to college two hours away from home at the time Luke started high school. My formative years were much different from his. I was a music geek who spent my free time playing the violin. Luke lived the life. He was on the varsity football team and held the keg parties in the woods. I looked forward to our weekly phone calls during which he described every escapade of the week. Sometimes he asked advice about problems with girls or a fight with a friend. I tried to give him solid advice and I’d like to think he took it.
The last year and a half, we spoke less as he partied it up at Ohio State and I settled into my career. Still, once a week we were on the phone. The bond was still there and still strong.
I can’t talk to my mom about Luke because I am still trying to figure out how such an awful thing happened.
I raise my head from my chin and wipe away the tears that are soaking my face. Leah comes around to look at me. As soon as she sees my red, splotchy face, she falls to her knees.
“Oh, my God, Emma. Are you okay?” She holds her hand out to me and puts it on my back, rubbing up and down in comfort.
When my palms are full of moisture, I use the backs of my hands to continue wiping my face.
“I’m fine. I . . . I’m just not ready. Okay?” I look up at Leah, who is nodding.
“Sure. We don’t have to go there right now. I just—” Leah moves her hand in broader circles on my back and takes a seat next to me. “I thought you were doing better. You are doing better. You know that, right?”
I sniffle and try to breathe while I pull myself together. “I know I am. I just can’t talk about him yet.”
Leah pulls me into her side and rests her head on top of mine. She breathes out a sigh and sits with me, looking out onto the world in front of us. “We all lost Luke. We are all grieving. You are not alone in this,” she says. If I were her, I’d hate me. “You went through a lot, Emma. You lost your music and your brother in one night. We are all giving you time to heal. But at some point, you’re going to have to let someone in.”
I turn and face her. Leah was a mess at Luke’s funeral. She cried and grieved like everyone else. Even though she was sad, she did manage to give an awesome eulogy. She told funny stories and reminded people about the incredible life he lived. Luke would have loved it.
Looking at Leah now, I see a woman who is concerned for the well-being of her sister. I don’t want her looking at me like that.
“Was Adam able to send us money?” I ask.
Leah lets go of my back and brushes her hands on her knees. She knows how to take a hint. “Yeah. He did. And the passports arrived today. As promised.” She rises and holds out her hand. “Why don’t you and I go out and have a really
expensive dinner and drink our weight in wine?”
I get up from my spot. “I’ll settle on a reasonably priced prix fixe dinner and a glass of wine. I think I lost enough of our money this week. No need to go for broke.”
Leah turns to head into the room. “Killjoy,” she says, but then turns toward me and walks backward. “But I get to pick out our clothes.”
I agree and that seems to bring Leah back into her natural state: absolutely crazy.
Last night, Leah and I ventured into Anacapri. It’s part of the island of Capri but on the opposite side of where we are staying. We had to walk to the Piazetta to catch a bus. My heart was in my throat as the bus wound up the steep mountain with little guardrail protecting us from driving off the cliff.
We made it there in record time, and caught the last chairlift to the top of Mount Solaro, the highest and most panoramic point on the island. It was on Leah’s list of places to visit. From up there we could see the Bay of Naples and the Amalfi Coast. Since we’d lost our phones, we stopped at a store to buy a disposable camera. We were both surprised they still sold those.
In town, we visited the shops. Leah and I both bought silk scarves and added them to the dresses Leah picked out for us to wear. Leah wrapped her scarf around her neck, and I tied mine around my head, making a headband.
It was nice being a tourist with my sister. We ate a great—and reasonably priced—dinner, then settled into a cafe where we had a cappuccino and dessert. We stopped to listen to a band play in the street and by the time we settled into bed last night, I almost forgot about the crazy day I’d had.
Almost.
Today, we are at a beach club on the Marina Piccola, on the south side of the island. I say beach club, because that is what it’s called, yet it’s a far cry from what I was expecting. We walk along narrow stone steps, following signs for the place we chose to spend our afternoon in the sun. We approach a stone structure of three levels leading down to the water. Each level has lounge chairs on it, facing the water. We walk down to the level on the water. We came to use the beach, so we want to be on the beach.
The beach, however, is not the white sand beaches we are used to back in the States. Instead of sand, the beach is made of small rocks hot from the sun, so we keep our flip-flops on as we walk to our lounge chairs. There is a cafe inside and music playing over a speaker. A family of four is to our left and a couple who seem to be on their honeymoon are to our right. I’m surprised there aren’t more people enjoying the sun.
From my chair, I can see the rock formation I passed with Asher yesterday, which, I now know, is the Faraglioni. Three spurs of rock formed by erosion of ocean waves. In fact, every time I look up, I see the rocks and try not to think of Asher.
Lathering on the sunblock, I take in the sunshine. After a while, Leah gets us a few cocktails and waters and when those are done we decide to go for a swim. We tentatively walk into the water, trying to keep our feet steady on the rocky ground. My feet actually hurt from the pebbles digging in my skin. The family to our left is all wearing water shoes. Smart.
After a few hours of enjoying the beach club, we head back to town. Instead of taking the bus, Leah wants to follow the map and walk back, cutting through the mountain. I tried to warn her it was farther than it looks but, Leah being Leah wants to have an adventure and “do like the locals do.”
Trust me, there is no way the locals endure this torture. If I say we climbed a thousand stairs, I might be underestimating the climb. Leah whines on the way up and I remind her how great her butt will look after this exercise. It seems to make her happy enough to keep on going.
When we reach the top, we treat ourselves to gelato.
Between last night’s trek to Anacapri and today’s climb up the mountain, we are both ready to head back to the hotel. A nap is in order before we can even think about where to go for dinner.
Leah and I enter the hotel and pass through the lobby, walking to our room. In front of our door is a large package. From the distance it looks like a bouquet of flowers. When we get closer we see that it’s really . . . shoes.
In a large wicker basket is an array of shoes, each on its own stick, assembled in a display to look like a flower arrangement. In between each shoe is tissue paper and the entire thing is wrapped in cellophane.
Leah picks up the basket while I take out my room key and open the door. When we’re in the room, Leah places the basket on the table of the seating area and removes the card on the front.
“It’s for you,” she says, handing me the envelope.
“Me?” I take the envelope from her and look at my name written on the front. I open the envelope and slide the card out.
I look over at the bouquet that Leah is unwrapping. Inside are a dozen shoes. These aren’t any shoes. There are six pairs of Sperry Top-Siders in the basket. The same shoe I lost when I fell in the water. I left the other on Devon’s boat and wore slippers home.
I look back down on the card and read the next line.
Leah rips the card from my hand and reads it. “For someone who didn’t talk to the guy, you certainly made an impression.”
I wave her off and look at the shoes. It’s an odd gift. Who buys someone six pairs of shoes? There is a gold pair, a silver, red, navy, white and green. All in my size. I don’t know how much Asher gets paid but he spent a pretty penny.
But why?
I take the card from Leah and read the note again. It’s actually pretty funny. If I were in a different headspace I would appreciate the cleverness of the gift.
“Looks like you have dinner plans tonight.” Leah says with complete excitement.
“No way. I am not going to dinner with a stranger.” The card feels like a lead weight in my hand.
“Yes, you are. This is awesome. He sent you shoes! That’s better than jewelry!” Leah starts taking the shoes off the sticks and pairing them together on the couch. “I’m picking your outfit!”
“No, you’re not. I am not leaving you to go out. This is our vacation, remember? Our sister’s sabbatical.” I take the shoes and place them back in the basket.
“You’re going. Besides, I am so tired from all the walking today. I’ll be more than happy to drink a bottle of wine on the patio and talk to Adam.” She leans down and grabs the navy Sperry’s and walks them over to the closet. “I know just the thing for you to wear!”
“I don’t think you’re listening, I’m not going.”
Leah opens my closet and pulls out my favorite yellow racer-back tank dress. “Emma, yesterday you were sobbing on the grass. Today, a beautiful man wants to take you out to dinner. Let me ask you, do you want to be the girl who cries in her hands or do you want to be the girl who has fun?”
Her question takes me completely by surprise. Is that who I am? The girl who cries? It’s not who I was. I was the mature one. I took care of our family. I didn’t need taking care of.
I take the dress from her hands and walk into the bathroom. “You’re doing my hair!” I shout before slamming the door in her face.
The note said, “Dinner. 9pm.” There was no location. Hell, there wasn’t even a question in there. It’s as if I don’t have a choice whether I want to go to dinner or not.
I’m wearing the dress Leah pulled out. It’s tight and hits a few inches above my knees. The racer back makes it difficult to wear a proper bra so I put on a strapless one that’s thin and doesn’t show through the fabric. The front is a scoop neck and shows ample cleavage but nothing pornstar-esque. Leah insisted I wear the navy-blue Sperrys. It’s not the shoe I’d normally wear with a bright yellow but it works. The dress is cotton and casual. Sexy without looking like I’m trying too hard.
My hair is blown out with a soft bend at the ends. Leah wanted to do my makeup but I did it myself, subtle and natural-looking. As the clock strikes nine, I find myself fiddling with the gold “E” I wear around my neck. If someone writes something like “Dinner. 9pm,” you know they must be punctual.
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�Am I supposed to wait here?”
Leah thinks for a second, then says, “Wait in the lobby. It’s less first date-ish.”
I agree and head out the door. My stomach is in knots. Is this a first date? It’s weird if it is because there won’t be a second. We’re in Italy, for Christ’s sake. I don’t even know where he lives. I’ll go back to Cedar Ridge and he’ll go back to . . . wherever it is he came from.
This is stupid. I feel stupid. I want to turn around and go back to the room. I should.
I turn on my heels and start heading back. Then what? Leah will just push me out the door again. And do I really want to be the girl who cries?
I do another one-eighty and head for the lobby. The clock behind the desk reads 9:05. Should I stand in the middle of the room? Have a seat? Ugh! I don’t want to look like I’m waiting. I walk over to the man behind the desk and ask him if we have any messages. This way if Asher walks in, I won’t look like I’m desperately waiting for him to arrive.
Which I’m not, for the record.
“Your name?” the man asks.
“Emma Paige.” I look over at the door. The anticipation is killing me.
“Paige?” A look of realization crosses his face. “A gentleman was here. I have no Paige. I told him you no stay here. I look in the computer and see you with Reingold. I tell him I’ll call. He leave.”
Asher was here and left already? Where did he go? I walk out the front door and look outside but he is nowhere to be seen. I can’t believe he is standing me up when he’s the one who asked to go to dinner. No. He demanded dinner. I didn’t have a choice in the matter.
I walk to the street, looking both ways. If he came in a car, it’s long gone. Where would he even get a car? No, he had to have walked and if he came from the boat he’s headed back to the marina.
I make my way toward the stone steps Leah and I walked up on the first day we got here, carrying our suitcases to the hotel. The stairs lead to the marina and is most likely the way he went. Taking two at a time, I skip down the steps until I see his six-foot frame, walking down the path in a slow and purposeful manner.
Reckless Abandon Page 8
