chapter EIGHT
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. She 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.
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 hands me the envelope.
“Me?” I take it from her, look at my name written on the front and slide the card out.
I look over at the bouquet 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.
Looking 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.
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!” She 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.”
She 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.
“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.