28
Positano, Amalfi Coast
L ucky for Dad, I’m easily distracted. When you’re in a place as beautiful as the Amalfi Coast, the last thing you want is to rehash a fight you’re never going to win. So I leave it alone ... for now.
Not that I have much of a choice. Dad is treating us to an adorable little Airbnb. It’s orange with green shutters, nestled into the cliffs of Positano. The inside is cozy, decorated in soothing shades of blue and white. There are only two bedrooms—one for Mei and me, one for Dad. Teller seems perfectly happy to take the pullout couch in the living room, probably because it’s a million times better than the hostels we’ve grown accustomed to. But the real crown jewel is the lull of the waves crashing over the pebbly beach below. They’re audible from everywhere in the house.
After we unpack, Dad takes a work call and Teller takes a nap. Keen to explore, Mei and I set out on foot, meandering through the narrow, winding streets and alleyways dappled in sunlight.
There’s something about Positano that feels simple, timeless. Sure, it’s crowded like the other cities we’ve visited, but the people here are relaxed. No one is elbowing each other on the sidewalks or speeding ahead of slower walkers. Everyone meanders in bathing suits and knit wraps, padding around the worn cobblestone in flip-flops. Unhurried. These are my people. This is my vibe.
It seems it’s Mei’s vibe, too, considering she’s already stopped at two art galleries, one pottery shop, and four local artisan stands along the way. She’s purchased a whole new “Amalfi aesthetic” wardrobe, including a linen dress embroidered with lemons, funky sea-themed jewelry, and a straw fedora with a blue-striped ribbon (all on sale, of course).
“You and Mom didn’t come to Amalfi, right?” I ask Mei. We’ve stopped at a cute little café overlooking the glimmering water.
She pauses for a moment to sip her cappuccino. “We both wanted to come here, but it was way too expensive. Too bougie, even back then. She would have loved it here, though. Her butt would have been glued to those loungers at the beach the entire week. The ocean was her happy place. She wanted to travel everywhere, but especially places near water.” There’s a hint of sadness in her voice.
Yet another thing I didn’t know about my mom. “Really?” I ask through a mouthful of cannoli.
“Except she had this fear of whales.”
I crinkle my brow. “Whales? Do you mean sharks?”
“Nope. Whales. Like, Free Willy ,” she says, eyes partially obscured by the brim of her new hat.
“Why?”
“I have no idea. Maybe it was their size? But once, we were on a family trip in Cape Cod, and we saw some breaching in a cove and she cried. Ellen and I made fun of her for days,” she says, eyes brimming with nostalgia. “She would have loved knowing you’re traveling, seeing the world.”
“You think?”
“When we were little, she had this atlas where she color-coded all the countries based on how much she wanted to go. She always had a system for everything.”
“Sometimes I don’t know who I take after. I grew up in a family of total nerds,” I say teasingly.
Mei smirks. “You’re like Ellen, I think. A free spirit.”
I give a half-hearted chuckle. “Speaking of family, Dad’s been acting weird.”
“You’ll have to be more specific. Your dad is always weird.”
“When we were in Pompeii, I brought up Mom and asked about when they first met. He totally shut down.”
She’s quiet for a moment, shifting in her seat to cross her legs. “I’m sorry, Lo. What did you want to know about her? Maybe I can help fill in the gaps.”
“I asked about her vision. If she knew he was The One when they met.”
She tilts her head in thought. “From what I remember her saying, she did. She thought he was cute but a bit of a dweeb, which wasn’t her normal type. We actually didn’t get to meet your dad for almost six months after they met.”
That surprises me. “Six months? That seems like a long time.”
“They had to sneak around for a little while because they worked together. That, and I think they were just in a love bubble. Didn’t want anything to disturb it. And when she finally introduced us, she was so ... scared, for some reason. Maybe because he was The One? Maybe because he was so different from the rest of us? I don’t know. I think she just wanted us to love him as much as she did, especially Nai Nai,” she says.
“Understandable. The women in our family are pretty scary. Did he fit in?”
“He was like a scared deer at first. But eventually, he got used to us. She liked to joke that Nai Nai loved him more than her.”
I smile. Nai Nai always treated Dad like her biological son. After Mom passed, there wasn’t a week where she didn’t stop by to bring us food, way more than we could eat. She didn’t approve of me living off Dad’s specials, a.k.a. frozen McCain’s curly fries and chicken fingers. I still remember the heaps of saucy food crammed into clear containers with rainbow-colored lids. The steam always singed my fingers when I eagerly lifted the lids to smell it. Dad always washed the Tupperware, and she’d refill it with another feast. When Nai Nai passed, Ellen took it upon herself to continue the tradition, despite being a notoriously terrible cook. It took Dad months to work up the courage to tell her we didn’t need her to cook for us. The transition back to bland, frozen food was a tough one.
“Anyway, your dad isn’t the most open guy,” Mei says. “It still hurts him, even though he doesn’t show it. He loved her more than anything. When she passed so suddenly, it broke him, and he hasn’t been the same since. I wish you could have seen them together when you were old enough to really remember.”
Same, Mei. Same.
This right here is exactly why I don’t love talking to Mei or Ellen about Mom. On one hand, it’s comforting to hear about her. It feels good to talk about her like she was a real person. But it’s a double-edged sword. They have so many memories with her that I simply don’t have. And as ridiculous as it seems, I’m bitter, almost angry, about the time I was robbed of. About not getting to know for myself that she hated peanut butter, or that she made up a whole dance routine to the song “Push It!” by Salt-N-Pepa.
We’re quiet for a few moments, with only the Italian radio from inside the café and chatter of patrons to quell the silence. Quiet is rare around Mei. It strikes me that she seems a little sad. Maybe being back to Italy without Mom is difficult. I guess I’m not the only one struggling with memories of her.
I plunk my elbows on the table, biting the inside of my mouth. “What if I’m like Cousin Lin? Destined for a lifetime of loneliness and shit luck?”
Mei frowns suspiciously. “Ellen told you?”
“Don’t get mad. I made her. She had no choice,” I explain.
She sighs. “Well, you’re not going to end up alone. Things will work out with Caleb.” I should probably feel some sort of relief. Mei is rarely wrong when it comes to these things. But at the memory of the horror on Caleb’s face, it’s hard to imagine how things will work out.
“But what if they don’t?”
“They will. Again, this only happened to two people. In every other case, things have worked out, even if there were some hiccups.”
“Hiccups?” I confirm, feeling even worse about myself.
She tilts her head in thought. “Well, there was Second Great-Aunt Chun. She fell in love with another man after she was already married to Fourth Great-Uncle.”
I nearly choke on my half of the macaron we decided to split. “Wait, Uncle Wen? Excuse me? Why didn’t I know about this?” Apparently, there’s a lot I don’t know about my family.
“It’s not really a secret. You’ve never asked.”
“Who was this other man?” I whisper, unsure I actually want to know. Nai Nai had always told me stories about them when I was young. Supposedly, Great-Aunt Chun and Great-Uncle Wen were married for seventy-five years, the longest of any couple in the family. They even died only two days apart, unable to bear life without each other.
“Bart. He was the neighbor. Totally cliché. They’d had an affair. Everyone in the family was horrified. Anyway, she was convinced she loved him more than Wen, her soulmate. And so she left Wen to be with Bart. Three years later, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. And guess what? Bart left her.”
“Left her? Really? That’s awful.”
“Yup. And guess who came back to take care of her? Wen.”
“Wow. That’s wild.” The thought of frail Chun and doting Wen made me sad.
“Yup. In her lucid moments, she was completely devoted to Wen after that. She felt awful that she’d made such a huge mistake, went against the vision. And so she corrected her mistake.”
“So technically, the vision did work out. Chun ended up with her soulmate regardless,” I say, unsure if this makes me feel hopeful or even more pathetic.
“Are things okay with Teller?” Mei asks, interrupting my reflection.
Her abruptness takes me aback, and I turn my gaze to avoid eye contact. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t things be okay with us?” Teller and I had been pretty conversational in the car, at least enough to cover up any weird vibes.
She gives me a puzzled look. “I didn’t mean between you two. I meant how are things going with him since his breakup.”
“Ohhh.” I toss my head back, momentarily relieved. “He’s doing well. I think he still misses Sophie, though,” I add with a grumble, thinking about his text to her after we hooked up.
Mei dares me to make eye contact. Her gaze is penetrating, and I swear she’s reading my mind. A small smile curves her lips, like she’s just made a miraculous discovery.
“Something happened between you two—sexually,” she says matter-of-factly.
Shit. Nothing gets past Mei.
“No! Ew!” I practically yelp, scooting back in my chair. “We’re just friends, obviously.” But she keeps staring at me with that knowing look, and I break in record time. God, I’m weak. “It’s really annoying and unfair that you’re psychic, you know. Makes it hard to lie.”
“Sweetie, I don’t need to be psychic to know something happened between you two. I can tell by the way you look at each other.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“You could cut the tension with a teaspoon. But you’ve always had a bit of a crush on him, haven’t you? That’s why you were so freaked out about your vision?” she asks.
“What? A crush on Teller? No. Never. Absolutely not,” I say, almost as a reflex. I check over my shoulder to make sure he’s not standing right behind me or something.
“Be honest, Lo,” she says softly.
“No,” I say, without as much confidence as I’m used to. Through the years, people have asked me if there was something between Teller and me. I’ve always answered, “No,” without a beat. Without an ounce of hesitation. Until now. Still, I hold firm until Mei’s penetrating gaze breaks me.
Teller has always been off-limits to me, whether he’s with someone else or not, because he’s ... just Teller. He’s my Teller. He’s the guy who makes sure I drink my daily recommended intake of water and bans me from eating lactose so I don’t get constipated. The guy I tell about my ridiculous ideas, share all my wacky pet names with.
“There can’t be anything between us,” I say.
Mei leans forward. “Why not?”
Where do I even begin? “We’re total opposites. We’d never work in that way.”
I think about how cold and distant we’ve been the past few days. It doesn’t feel like us in the slightest. Then again, we just slept together. It’s bound to take some time for things to normalize. When we’re back home, in our normal environment where we’re just us—the same us that met at The Cinema—surely this weird, pesky tension will disappear for good. Right?
“Besides, we aren’t supposed to be together,” I add, blinking away clips of the vision—of our fractured friendship. “He’s going back to Sophie the moment we get home, and I’m destined to be alone forever because I messed things up with Caleb.”
“Not true. Maybe it was just the universe’s way of telling you you’re not ready for Caleb yet.”
“Why wouldn’t I be ready? I was totally ready. He was the one who wasn’t ready for me.”
“That might be true. But you have to be honest with yourself, Lo. Remember, we can’t be fully ready for forever until we’ve fully closed the chapter on the past. You have to let go of what’s holding you back.”
“Like what? There’s nothing holding me back.”
Her lips curl in a sly smile. “What about the possibility that your heart belongs to someone else?”