Chapter 44
Capri
Brady
A deep red tomato sauce with chunks of garlic and sprinkling of green herbs covers bright orange shrimp, black mussel shells, chunks of pink salmon and grey-blue clam shells on top of a mountain of spaghetti.
“This is so good. It’s like eating the ocean and a field of tomatoes and herbs at the same time.” Hayes’ eyes roll back as he savors each bite. “You’ve got to try some,” he says.
“I guess if we both taste like we’re warding off vampires the other won’t notice.” I take my fork and stretch across the table to twist some of the pasta on to my fork. I carefully put the strands in my mouth. Now I’m the one with my eyes rolling back.
“When you get to medical school you should do some research on why pasta always tastes better in Italy. It’s a scientific fact.”
Hayes nods his head, pretending to consider the idea with one eyebrow raised. “We’d have to come back here to gather the materials, I assume.”
“We’d want science to lead of course,” I say, playing along and sticking a fork in the zucchini pasta I’m enjoying as much as his frutti di mare.
Evening changes the island of Capri. The sunshine and turquoise waters surrender to endless inky nearly indistinguishable sky and sea, except for the stars that begin to poke through as night falls.
The gleaming white walls of the town fade until there are only clusters of orange and yellow lights seen through windows and archways.
Our terrace overlooks the marina visited by the world’s most lavish yachts, but amid the luxurious cruisers, scrappy fishermen manage to haul in tuna, octopus and anchovies, some of which have made it into Hayes’ meal.
I watch Hayes enjoying each mouthful. I know I’ve been quieter the last few days.
More than usual at least. He suspects it was the run-in with my mom and he’s not entirely wrong.
I’m nervous about all of it. I know I want to be with him, I just wish it didn’t mean so much change.
But maybe that’s the point. To change with the person you love.
I grab my wine glass to see if finishing the bottle will help me figure it out, but before I can, I hear, “Brady! Brady Gibson!”
I don’t recognize the voice so I turn around.
I don’t remember the face either. It’s a woman about my age dressed in a boho chic sundress with geometric zigzags in white and red from a designer I know hand sews every stitch.
She’s wearing a clementine and honey gold scarf I saw at Hermès in London.
Her arm is wrapped around the elbow of a handsome man a bit older than my dad.
Oh. It’s Maude Tinsely, we went to boarding school together.
She was maybe a year or two older. I heard she married an older guy who does something with bitcoin or crypto-something.
“Hello, Maude,” I say, and get up to greet her. I kiss her on both cheeks.
“This is my husband, Ian,” she says, adjusting her scarf. Ian smiles enough to be polite.
Hayes gets up and extends his hand. “I’m Brady’s boyfriend, Hayes.” A rush of pride sweeps over me to have him introduce himself that way. I could almost burst. I’m getting used to it again but I don’t think it will ever not feel special.
I mumble some pleasantries and then Maude says, “Your mother said you are here for the big wedding.” I catch a glimpse of Hayes. I know he wishes I had already made my big declaration to my family. “Are you staying with her at the Silversteins’?”
“No, I’m staying at a hotel up the hill. It’s a converted movie theater. It’s really fabulous.”
“Incredible view from the pool,” Hayes adds, not missing a beat. He thinks he’s this country boy out of place everywhere but he’s able to talk to anyone.
Ian and Maude look up toward the building. “No doubt,” Maude says. “Some of Ian’s colleagues are having an event tonight on one of their yachts.” She turns to the marina and points to the yacht in the slip. “You should join us.” Ian’s expression does not change.
I remember Maude as a nice enough person. Our families were in the same social circles but she and I never really hung out beyond that. Still, there is a certain expectation to attend invited events, an expectation I’m trying to shed.
“I wish,” I say in my politest voice tempered with pretend sadness. “We have plans. But that’s a lovely invitation and it looks like it’s going to be a fabulous night on the water. Just enough clouds out to make the sky interesting.”
She looks out toward the water. “I think you’re right. Well, we’ll see you both at the wedding?” she says and kisses me goodbye.
“Sure. Absolutely,” I say, and I can feel Hayes shoot me a look as they walk away.
“Why did you tell them we were going to the wedding?” Hayes asks. As soon as I said the words, I knew he would catch me. It’s one thing to not correct her assumption but another to make false statements.
“Oh, it’s just Maude and her daddy-husband man.” I wave my hand like I’m swatting a mosquito. “It was easier to tell them we were going than have to make a whole statement about why I’m here in Capri and why we aren’t going.”
“Sure,” he says, turning his attention back to his meal, finishing the last few bites. I push mine away. I can tell he’s not buying what I’m saying and I’ve lost my appetite. Maybe it’s time to push the conversation.
“Of course…” I take a sip of water. “We could just go to the wedding. I mean, it’s just a meal and some dancing.”
Hayes doesn’t say anything. Then he puts his fork down.
“If you really want to go, then you should go.” He goes back to his meal.
“But I can’t see myself at that wedding.
” Well, I can’t see myself in a tiny studio with a kitchen next to the bed.
I don’t say that, but I’m aware that he’s being the old rigid Hayes again.
My foot rapidly taps the ground under the table. Maybe a new approach.
“I did hear Samantha Garcia is singing.” Apparently, she’s taking a break from her sold-out world tour to do a set at the wedding.
“She’s doing karaoke duets. You could sing ‘Love More Fearless.’ I know you love that song.
You could sing it with her.” I think I’m making an irresistible offer.
I know he bops to that song every time he hears it but my mentioning it has the opposite effect on Hayes.
He laughs. It’s not dismissive or mean, that’s not Hayes, but it does have an edge that makes me apprehensive.
“Seriously. Me? Belting out ‘Love More Fearless’ in front of a bunch of strangers? I’ll stick to the shower with the door closed.
” Door closed is exactly right. I thought he had cracked it open and the idea was to make the opening wider, not temporary.
But we’re having such a good time tonight there’s no reason to hash it out now.
“Did I mention there’s a bakery a few yards away that makes pistachio cannoli that are to die for?”
We finish our meal and stroll through the crowded piazzetta with other tourists taking in the charming cafes and shops.
A clocktower built on ruins from centuries ago has a string of lights that help the stars create a sense of magic and wonder over the square.
Hayes and I walk hand in hand, heading toward the bakery but not in any rush.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding since Maude showed up.
Out in the distance I can see the yacht Maude pointed to.
A floating party of wealth and influence.
I’m glad I’m not a part of it. I want to be with my boyfriend here on terra firma, on our way to get a matching set of cannoli.
But I also feel the stress that comes from the uncertainty of making my own way.
I turn to look at Hayes and catch a shadow moving across the bump on his nose.
I think about how he helped me climb the last few feet of the Phoenician Steps, holding out his arm for me to grab.
I wonder if that’s how the future will be – a sweaty climb over treacherous paths.
Can I even do it? I have to admit being on that yacht would feel familiar and easy.
I know that world and I know where I fit in.
I squeeze Hayes’ hand for reassurance and he squeezes mine back. With Hayes in my corner, I have a chance.