Racing the Sun(83)

We hail a cab from the terminal parking lot but not before Derio pops into a coffee shop and quickly downs a cold beer. “Best beer I’ve ever had,” he says, seeming utterly refreshed now. I don’t think I’ve seen him stop smiling.

The taxi ride to the hotel is a trip and a half. The kids are delighted as the driver seems to have no regard for traffic lights, or other cars, or pedestrians, or roads, or even life itself. Somehow we make it to an elegant yellow hotel up on the surrounding hills and nearly collapse onto the bed.

The twins bounce around on their beds in the adjoining room until I yell at them to stop (they’re tall for seven-year-olds and smacking their heads on the ceiling wouldn’t be the best start to our mini-vacation) and I flip through a guidebook, trying to figure out what to do. Tomorrow is Pompeii, which I might be the most excited about out of all of us, but we have half a day and night here in Naples to explore. Of course, the truth is I don’t mind just walking around the city and taking in the fact that I’m in the city. I don’t care if it’s full of beggars and pickpocketing children. I just want to feel that excitement thread through the air, the novelty of something new.

“Put that away,” Derio tells me derisively. “I know Napoli like the back of my hand.”

“So you’ll be the tour guide?”

“I’ll be the tour guide.”

We start out by getting food because we’re all starving. Since Naples is famous all over Italy—and the world—for their pizza, we find a pizzeria where I have pizza napoletana marinara, made with the juiciest tomatoes I’ve ever tasted, washed down with beer and Neapolitan espresso, which is strong enough to give a woman balls. Then we stroll downward through the streets, licking cones of gelato that drip down our arms until we come to the Piazza del Plebiscito. The square is so big and open, enclosed by the giant duomo of the royal palace and a curved colonnade, with rows of ochre, terracotta, pink, and lemon-yellow buildings beyond it. Derio tells the kids of a tradition and gets them to close their eyes and walk through the middle of two bronze statues of horses without bumping into them. Of course, the twins take this challenge—I was about to do it myself—but it’s harder than it looks and Alfonso comes dangerously close to walking into not only one of the statues but a crowd of Japanese tourists who are snapping pics. Naturally, being the worrier I am now, I yell at him to stop and open his eyes.

“There is a slope to the piazza,” Derio says, laughing. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”

“You’re a meanie,” I tell him.

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into him, pressing a long, wet kiss on my lips. “Oh yes, I am so very cruel,” he murmurs.

“You’re the Beast,” I remind him playfully while I attempt to remove myself from his grabby hands. The kids are marveling at the bronze horses now but I’m not sure I want to be molested in the middle of a busy piazza.

“I thought I was a frog,” he remarks, not willing to let go so easily.

“You’re all those things.”

“And a great tickler.”

His long fingers deftly find the tender spots on my sides, and I giggle. “Stop it,” I tell him. “Basta!”

“It is so good to see you smile.”

“You’re tickling me, it’s impossible not to,” I tell him, finally swatting his hands away. “Don’t you understand how tickling works?”

He sticks his hands in his shorts pockets and tilts his head as he looks at me. “No, I mean today. You have been smiling all day. I haven’t seen you smile in some time.”

His words bring me back to reality. I look around, feeling so very hot all of a sudden, the late-afternoon sun baking the square. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“You should think of things that make you smile, then.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It can be,” he says, stepping toward me just as the kids come running over.

“Fa troppo caldo,” Alfonso complains, throwing his arms around.

“It’s too hot,” Annabella translates, looking at me for approval.

I nod. “It is hot.”

Derio takes a moment to peel his eyes off of me, though something is still on his mind, then he says to the twins, “Allora, why don’t we go where it’s cool, then: underground. Sotterraneo. Cripta. Catacombe.” He makes a scary face.

The way he says it makes even me feel a bit apprehensive but the twins cry out excitedly, obviously intrigued by the bones and creepy passages of the catacombs. I just want someplace cool. As long as there are no spiders ready to drop on me, I’m good.