“It wasn’t a compliment,” he says, but he’s grinning at me. “So you want me to play tour guide for you?”
I lift my shoulders in deference. “You said you’ve been coming here forever.”
Adam looks out over the ocean. I see a hint of something in his gaze I can’t quite place, a passing thought that’s gone before I can identify what it is. “Well then, let’s go.”
Chapter Thirteen
After two plates of breakfast, seconds of bacon, and a cinnamon roll to go, I head upstairs to shower and change. The French doors to my room are closed, beating out the morning sun. I take a cold shower—the water feels delicious on my hot skin—and get dressed.
I meet Adam in the lobby twenty minutes later. He’s still in his gray T-shirt and board shorts, but now he’s wearing tennis shoes and a baseball hat that saysKauaion it.
I point up. “Have you been?”
It takes him a second to understand what I’m talking about. “Oh. Kauai. Yes, of course. It would be weird to wear the hat if not, no?”
“I guess.” I don’t mention that Eric has a hat that saysMozambiqueon it. We’ve never even been to the African continent.
His eyes graze down my body. “You look nice,” he says.
I’ve changed into denim shorts and a white lace top with a blue bikini underneath. Sun hat firmly on. My belly is full, and my legs feel pleasantly wobbly from the hike this morning.
“Thanks.”
“Are you going to be able to walk in those shoes?”
He points down at my feet that are clad in pink plastic Birkenstocks. Besides my Nikes, they’re the most comfortable shoes I brought on this trip.
“They’re Birkenstocks!” I say.
“And that means…?”
“It means let’s go.”
I have my straw cross-body around me, and I tuck a bottle of water from the front desk into it. I haven’t stopped drinking since I got done with the walk. I want more and more and more water.
Adam holds his arm out for me to pass through the door, and I do. Outside, the day is bright and friendly. Tourists and locals alike are in the streets, finishing breakfast at outdoor restaurants and opening shops to begin the day’s work.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Relax,” he says. “We’re going to walk. The best way to explore Positano is to simply wander.”
We start walking down Viale Pasitea. I look at the red and orange buildings we pass. Shops and restaurants and little grocery stands. There are baskets of fresh produce, and mannequins wearing hand-painted dresses. I spot a blue one with silver stitching. There are racks of sewn dolls for children and wraps in every shade of blue the ocean and sky are capable of offering.
“It’s all so beautiful,” I say.
“The stuff to buy or the views?”
“Both. But the views really are incredible. Up high this morning… you could see the whole sweep. It was spectacular. I think Positano might be the most stunning place I’ve ever seen.”
Adam nods. “You know where the real best view of Positano is?”
“I don’t know how you could beat the view this morning,” I say. “Today was pretty great.”
“Be that as it may,” he says, “the best view in Positano is actually from the ocean.”
A bicyclist on the sidewalk almost knocks into me. I jump back out of the way, and a car honks. All the vehicles are tiny, like we’re in a movie.
I’m reminded, when he says this, of something Eric used to say when we lived in New York. How the best view in New York was in Jersey City.The best view in a place is actually a viewofthe place.
