Chapter 13 Tyson
Planes, trains, automobiles, and ferries.
It’s a long journey to Capri, and it crosses my mind that people need to stop saying they “love to travel” when the actual traveling part sucks. Especially when it involves jet lag and Lainey.
I’m mostly kidding about Lainey, though she does have a way of making things more complicated than they need to be. When we arrive in the Naples train station, she suggests that we take a long, expensive Uber ride in the direction away from our ferry to a pizzeria that she once read about in a novel. We are literally surrounded by pizza, yet she wants to eat a slice that a fictional character declared orgasmic.
I put my foot down and tell her that ain’t happening—I just want to get to Capri and relax. She lets the dream die, but is now in a souvenir shop by the ferry landing, trying on straw hats. She models each one for the young male clerk while Hannah and I watch her from outside the store.
I feel myself start to get agitated. “If we miss our ferry, I’m going to be so pissed,” I say to Hannah.
She nods, glances at her watch, and says, “I know. But we should be fine. Give her a few more minutes.”
A second later, she emerges, beaming in her new hat, then leads the charge to the ferry.
“See?” she says, giving me a smug look. “I told you we had plenty of time!”
When we finally pull into Marina Grande, Capri’s main seaport, I’m exhausted. It doesn’t help that deboarding the boat is a complete cluster, everyone clamoring to collect their baggage from a holding pen crammed with suitcases. The concept of a queue is clearly nonexistent in this country, and the lack of order stresses me out. I remind myself that we are on vacation—not in a law firm. I have no obligations or schedule. I can just go with the flow.
As I grab my bag, step off the boat, and merge into the crowd on the pier, I realize that the feeling is equal parts liberating and disorienting. Although I relish the freedom of being my own man on my own timetable, I’m not quite sure what to do without all the usual goals that have guided my life. Some of that pressure has always come from my parents, but a lot of it has been internal, the way I’m wired. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had the deep desire to achieve and climb the next rung of the ladder of success. Get into college, then law school, then a top law firm, then make partner. It was one of the reasons I could relate so much to Summer. She was the same way. I remind myself why we are here—and that I need to take this opportunity to do some soul-searching.
I look beyond the crowd on the pier and take in my first glimpse of Capri. It’s just like a postcard, the scene somehow glamorous and quaint at once. A mix of large yachts and small, rustic fishing boats are anchored in the sapphire-blue waters. A pebble beach stretches along one side of the paved street while cliffs hugged by colorful pastel buildings rise dramatically on the other. Lush vegetation dots the landscape in every direction, and the balmy air smells of citrus and salt. If only Summer could be with us. She was right about this place.
“Holy smokes!” Lainey says in a voice so loud that an entire family of five turns to look at her. “It’s freaking gorgeous!”
“Gosh. It really is,” Hannah says, glancing around with wide eyes.
When we get to the end of the pier, Lainey looks at me and says, “Where to next?”
We turn onto the street and stand on the shoulder as I study a map to get my bearings, remembering the email I received from our hotel concierge. “Depends on whether you want to take a taxi or the funicular,” I say.
“The fun-icular sounds more fun,” Lainey says.
“Let’s do it.” I smile, then lead the way down to the station.
The ride is an efficient five-minute climb through lemon groves. The views are amazing, and when we exit the station at the top, the panoramic vista is even more dramatic. Lainey pulls out her phone and starts taking pictures like crazy. She takes a few selfies, too, changing her pose every few seconds, smiling into the camera.
I watch her, marveling that she can be so unself-conscious.
“Hannah! Come here and get next to me!” she clamors.
Hannah shakes her head. “No way. We’ve been traveling for twenty-four hours!”
“But we have to memorialize our arrival!”
I watch for as long as I can bear it, then finally turn, heading toward the heart of the square. Refusing to look back, I feel like a parent strategically walking away from a stubborn child, knowing Lainey will eventually follow, if only to avoid being abandoned.
Sure enough, she scrambles after me, her roller bag making a racket on the cobblestones, while Hannah keeps pace at her side.
“Wait up, jerk!” Lainey happily yells.
I wait for them to catch up, then quietly remind her she might not want to be the loud American.
“And you might not want to be the American who can’t stop to smell the roses.”
“How about the tired-as-fuck, jet-lagged American who just wants to check into his hotel and take a shower? Can I be him?” I ask her, as I do my best to orient us in the busy square.
“Look. They have a Tod’s!” Lainey says, pointing to a storefront. “Let’s get matching loafers!”
“Maybe later. But for now, look for Via Emanuele,” I say, scanning the street signs affixed to buildings.
“Everything looks so upscale,” Hannah says, sounding surprised.
I nod, a little surprised at how cosmopolitan the scene is given that the town is situated on such a tiny island. The crowds are dense—which is a bit of a bummer—but I love the energy, and I make sudden eye contact with a gorgeous woman. She smiles at me, and I smile back.
It’s a harmless exchange, but Lainey catches it and says, “And I’m the flirt? Sheesh. Could you be any more obvious?”
“What?” Hannah says.
“Tyson just tried to pick up some hot chick.”
“Please,” I say, thinking that I can’t recall the last time I randomly picked up a girl at a bar, let alone walking down the street. “And for the record, I’m focused on my friends right now—not looking for action.”
I give Lainey a pointed look that she clearly misses, seemingly forgetting all about Dog Boy. Instead, she turns to Hannah and says, “Do we believe him?”
“I do,” Hannah says.
Lainey stops walking, then says, “Care to place a bet on that? Fifty bucks?”
Hannah takes the bet as I roll my eyes and keep us moving toward our hotel.
“How about a wager on your action?” I say to Lainey over my shoulder.
“No line on that,” she says, grinning. “That’s a lock.”