“The alphabet. They had a twenty-two-character alphabet in like the twelfth century BC. The English alphabet is based on it.” He holds up the water bottle and drinks.
“So?” I ask, not sure what connection he’s making.
“I’m a terrible speller. I have never once spelled probably right without having it auto-correct. I don’t know how I’m going to be any good as a kindergarten teacher. Most of the kids will spell better than I do.”
His voice quivers on the word kindergarten just enough so that I notice and I can see the tension in his shoulders. There’s been more self-doubt creeping into his conversation since our first day in Capri. Two days ago, he pretended he couldn’t figure out the tip at lunch and yesterday he said he read the map of the gardens of the villa we were touring upside down. He had the tip exactly right and the map was an enigma. But what I can’t help thinking about is how he’s been acting this way since he said his mother stopped by. There has to be a connection.
“I’ve only seen the studio apartment in Boston online but it’s not far from North Boston University and the School of Education is right next to the hospital.” Maybe changing the subject will help him see how great the future is going to be. I keep the tone light, casual. His shoulders come down from his ears.
I get the tripod and start extending the legs while stealing glances. I can’t get enough of how the sunshine makes his curls look even more golden. We turn to face the cliff we’ve been leaning against. It rises straight above us, a wall that almost touches the sky. I make sure to get Anacapri in the background with its sun-washed buildings and roads that wind between patches of vibrant green and blue.
I take off my jacket to make sure I’m showing off my tan and my muscles. Anything to help Brady earn the money he needs for independence. Brady doesn’t have to do anything. He’s adorable as he is. I brush the curls off his face, not for the aesthetics, but because I want to touch them.
“We could have lunch,” Brady says, pushing his lips together.
“We just ate,” I say, twisting the tripod to make sure I have the right angle.
“No, at North Boston. I mean if I get into grad school at all.”
“You will,” I say. “I know you will.”
“Maybe,” he says, not meeting my eyes. “But it would be nice to have lunch during the day.”
“Sure, sometimes,” I say. I want to be honest. “Medical school is not like undergrad. The grind is twenty-four-seven.” I want to be sure Brady understands that.
“Oh, right.” He’s thinking. “Wait. Didn’t Maria Wong get a job in Boston? You remember her from Clarkson? From New Mexico. Data Science major.” Brady looks off to the side. “I’m realizing I won’t know anyone in Boston. Not really.”
“You’ll know me,” I say, hoping that will be enough for him. “And, Brady Gibson,” my voice changes to a pretend high school motivational speaker. “I’ve yet to meet someone you cannot charm. You’ll have more friends by the end of orientation than I’ve had my whole life.”
I finally have the camera ready and snap a few shots of us smiling with stunning Capri behind us never needing any filters or adjustments.
I kiss him on the cheek for the camera. I want to make sure I get the right shot, so I do it again, and then he kisses me with one eye on the camera and then again, but closer to my mouth.
I see the camera has gone back to sleep mode and I kiss him again. But this time for real. I hold his face in my hand. My mouth moves over his cheek. I’m trying to kiss away whatever worry is lurking under the surface.
I know he’s nervous about having to talk to his family and take such a big step. I’ve been preparing for medical school my entire life, but this is all new to Brady. I hold him in my arms tightly and look back at the path we just traveled. We’ve hiked a long way up. But then I look the other way to see where the trail leads. We still have a way to go, and there are many steps to climb.
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 hisfrutti 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!”
