The ferry docked in Sorrento and she took a taxi through the beautiful old seaside town, admiring the graceful architecture, narrowing winding streets, and the charm of it all. Taking a bus, she sat beside the window and watched as the bus slowly curled along the highway, slipping past the coastline as the day grew long.
Mia loved seeing all that she saw, and she loved being in Italy, but she realized that no matter where she went, no matter how far she traveled, she was not going to be able to escape him or at least lingering thoughts of him, doing what she was doing. She decided that Ava had been right, and she needed to find herself an Italian lover to get her mind off of Alexander, and back into Italy with no distractions from where she was at all.
When the bus stopped in Positano, she stepped off of it and looked up at the massive mountain rising straight up out of the deep blue sea, and she stared at the wonder of the colorful old village sitting nearly on top of itself as it clung to the side of the hills. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, and it captured her heart immediately.
She asked for directions, and soon enough she found the little bed and breakfast where she would be staying beside the beach. The old couple who owned it also owned a restaurant that was connected to it, and they were gracious and kind to her as she settled into her room. Marco and Isabella welcomed her as if she was family, and she loved the feeling of being in a place that in some other world, maybe in some other life, might have been home to her.
Isabella took her to her room and showed her all of the aspects of the old house. Mia loved all of it.
“Bella, you are here alone?” the older woman asked her with a note of disbelief.
Mia nodded and shrugged. “I am. This holiday is just for me,” she said quietly.
Isabella looked at her and Mia felt that the old woman had the same uncanny ability to see straight through her that Alexander seemed to have. “You are here with a broken heart?” she asked as if the subject was of course up for discussion.
Sighing, Mia gave her a little smile. “I suppose so. I’m hoping to find myself here again,” she said quietly. “I kind of feel like I’ve lost myself along the way, because he is in my heart and mind so much, in places where I used to be by myself, but he is there now, and I can’t seem to make him leave me,” she tried to explain.
Isabella nodded. “I know. I had a broken heart before I met Marco; when I was in Spain. I fell in love with a man, and he was beautiful and terrible, and he broke my heart right in half, but then I came here to Positano, to heal, and I met Marco, and we fell in love, and that was fifty years ago! You will find some happiness here. You will heal again and I will help you. I will introduce you to Paolo. Paolo is a good boy. Paolo could make you happy.” The old woman winked at her and gave her a warm smile and Mia felt her cheeks warm as she laughed shyly.
Isabella seemed to make up her mind that Paolo was the answer to all of Mia’s problems, and she said, “I will tell him to come for dinner, and you can meet him then. It will all be solved!” she said as if the matter were already done and taken care of. Then she went to the doorway and looked back at Mia. “Dress pretty for dinner, and he will be here.” She gave Mia a wink and then left and Mia closed the door and heaved a deep sigh, looking around her at the room.
It was simple but sweet, and it felt more peaceful than any place she had ever been. She could see why there was such a draw to so many people to go to the Amalfi Coast. There was a tall, narrow window in her room that opened to a little balcony overlooking the beach and the water. There were long, sweeping white curtains that seemed to float on the air, and the air was something like Mia had never known.
It was almost cool, it was light, seeming to drift in and wrap its arms around her while simultaneously moving through her body and her soul. It was filled with the scents of blossoms and a hint of fresh sea without the briny smell that she found so often at the edge of the Manhattan island.
The room had a double bed and she laughed at the irony that she was trying to get away for herself and she had gotten a bed that fit two people. She raised one brow, wondering if maybe she would find someone there in the little village to share the bed with. There was a tall, old, wooden wardrobe with a mirror inset into it, and a tiny private bathroom with a shower in it.
The little tables beside the bed were set with lamps, and the little table beside the tall windows that opened out to the balcony was set with a pretty vase of flowers and bougainvillea that had brilliant shades of purple, red, and hot pink.
She stepped out onto the balcony and rested her hands on the edge of it, looking all around her at the breathtaking sea and shoreline, and what small part of the village she could see from where she was. It was like finding herself in a dream, and she hoped she could lose herself in it and then come back to herself completely.