I turn and face her. Leah was a mess at Luke’s funeral. She cried and grieved like everyone else. Even though she was sad, she did manage to give an awesome eulogy. She told funny stories and reminded people about the incredible life he lived. Luke would have loved it.
Looking at Leah now, I see a woman who is concerned for the well-being of her sister. I don’t want her looking at me like that.
“Was Adam able to send us money?” I ask.
Leah lets go of my back and brushes her hands on her knees. She knows how to take a hint. “Yeah. He did. And the passports arrived today. As promised.” She rises and holds out her hand. “Why don’t you and I go out and have a really expensive dinner and drink our weight in wine?”
I get up from my spot. “I’ll settle on a reasonably priced prix fixe dinner and a glass of wine. I think I lost enough of our money this week. No need to go for broke.”
Leah turns to head into the room. “Killjoy,” she says, but then turns toward me and walks backward. “But I get to pick out our clothes.”
I agree and that seems to bring Leah back into her natural state: absolutely crazy.
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. Leah 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. After a while, 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.