Where The Water Meets the Sea

An air conditioner whirls to life as the Italian midsummer rays touch the window of the apartment. Eyes closed, the mixture of cigarettes, espresso, and bake shops combine with gasoline with the passage of taxis and compact cars. A watch reads seven in the morning.

The Naples metro sucks the air out of the terminal in the moments before it arrives. Kate step into the car and hugs her carryon suitcase in between her knees. The subway swells forward and her lids droop. Coffee at the airport. Wait until the airport.

Warm salty air greets her at the top of the metro steps. Birds swoop down toward cream colored outdoor cafes. Taxis pile up outside.

A hand wraps around Kate’s wrist. “Leaving without saying goodbye?”

Individually, a breath holds little significance. Lungs pump air in and out like clockwork. When combined with another, that breath holds life. An intertwining of air, of heat, and tension. It flows back and forth like waves. It may disappear in a low tide as the cliffs hold their breath, waiting for the crashing of the waves on their shores once more. In high tide, there cannot be enough. A gasping for air and scramble to the surface, salt spraying and heart beats racing.

In this life, I choose high tide.

A small puff of dust escapes the pages of an old book. The binding is leathery, the cracks of time sealed. Short, manicured fingernails slide it into place on the middle shelf. Kate brushes a slick strand of hair off of her forehead. The bottom of her shirt doubles as a rag to dab the sweat. The dull thrum of the ceiling fan barely moves the air in the tiny bookshop.

Books cover the walls and shelving in the center. Deep red chairs are nestled in the corner nearest the window. Piles of pillows are arranged on and around it. A simple display of historical and modern books are stacked for passersby to notice.

Cobblestones separate the bookshop from a travel agency and espresso bar across the way. Families and well-to-do persons frequent the sea-blue awning of the agency as they check in to their vacation. Fresh sandals tuck under the sun-warmed stools of the bar to enjoy a rich and dark drink. Sunglasses slip down noses from the Mediterranean humidity. The children sip on lemon granitas and soda pop in a bottle, watching the world go by. The alley-wide road doubles as a sidewalk and two-way street. Two women stroll arm in arm whispering in low undertones and nodding to the men standing beside motorbikes.

According to the brochures that are stuffed in windows, the island attracts visitors as a destination vacation, complete with serene sunset boat tours, caves to dive in, and single Greek men to have harmless flirtations with for the weekend then never speak to again.

The street is cast in long shadows as the day passes into evening. Light jackets are adorned when shifting from place to place. Shop lights are lit. Groups of five and six meander toward the port.

Kate reaches out to flip her sign to close. Her other hand brings out a phone with a locked screen full of messages. Andrea.

Kate? I’m on your island. Where are you?

Can I meet you?

Tonight, Bar 360, the port. Be there. Please. Answer me.

The screen goes dark, messages unanswered. She walks back through the shop, facing all the books and tidying up behind the counter. The clock on the computer reads nine in the evening. Soon pulses of life and energy would radiate from the port. The lights would reflect on the water and shine into her bedroom. No peaceful sleep was in sight.

Kate catches her reflection in the window. Lips pursed. Eyebrows pulled down into a critical scowl. Chin a little flabby. Her hair was an unruly mane that poked out at random spots. She flicked the switch and the lights along with her reflection were engulfed in darkness.

Her feet took her to the base of the spiral staircase. The cool iron railing guided her into the second story. The must was released to the open evening air with a squeak of the shutters.

Cloudless. Kate turns to her desk and shifts her work papers to the side. The little mirror is tipped down to show her face. Her stomach swirls and knotts until she’s nearly nauseous. Her heart pounds against her ribcage.

The screen lit up on the desk. Andrea.

Well?

She moves with achingly slow precision. Unlocks the phone. Opens the messages. And types.

10:30. I’ll be there.

The response is instant.

11. Running behind.

A rock forms in her stomach. Shaky hands pour black sambuca into a shot glass and flick it up and back. Hardly a wince and a refreshing breath.

Eyeliner emphasizes her eyes. Concealer and bronzer chisel out her features and mask the long day’s work. Every inch of her face is analyzed in the mirror until no flaws are visible. A quick rummage through her dresser. A black crop that wraps around to the side. Paired with white pumps and black jeans, everything is tightened and synched.

Kate twists from side to side in front of her mirror. A pinch at her waist to make sure that there is still fat. A deep breath to suck everything in. Ready.

The cobblestones were slightly damp from the nighttime dew and condensation from the sea. Her heels click on the stones and echo around her in the night. Traffic had halted to a near standstill. A lone motorbike puffs past in route to the water with two passengers stacked on the back. The houses that were vibrantly painted during the day now lay silent in muted colors.

Some lights are on in an upper story. Laughter and the smell of baked cheese wafts down to mingle with the moist stone.

Kate catches movement in the window of a terrace a block ahead. She slows to a stop. A couple stand facing the window. The man wraps his arms around a woman’s waist and buries his face in her neck. Kate can feel the touch of lips and warmth just below her earlobe. The closeness. A body pressed to her back. Breath tickling the loose hair around her face. The couple in the window stand immobilized, a painting frozen in time. Simply existing. Being. Their own form of art tucked away from the world to see. A painting meant to be felt by only themselves, seen and reflected upon until every inch of it was memorized.

Kate’s gaze is broken by a flinch. A fiat panda buzzes past her beeping furiously as she hops to the side, back against a wall. Her heart races. She checks the time. 10:30.

Perfect, she thinks. Enough time to grab a few drinks at the bar before he arrives. A few shots make everyone more attractive. Kate’s heart spirals. He could be a different person entirely to what his media portrayed him as. I may not even recognize him. Or he not recognize me. What then? He’ll go up to a pretty blonde tourist at a nearby table and invite her home with him. That’s how these meetings always go.

No, her mind argues. He’s here for you. It’s been a year since you first started talking.

He’s still here. Still communicating. Trust your gut. Go. Meet him. It’s time.

One more turn until the port.

Life springs into Kate’s step. The deep blue water sparkles with lights. Laughter and chatter sing harmoniously in tune with the swish and lap of the water against rock. Black leather skirts hug the hips of delicate women. Heels click along the cobbles, men at their side. Muslin and light cotton button downs cover sun-tanned skin. Tops of white, light blue, and dark navy are the primary colors among them. Well fitted trousers lean up against bars and settle down into cushioned chairs. Soft golden light bounces off of high cheekbones and gets lost amidst trimmed stubble along the jawlines.

After weeks managing the shop on the island, Kate had only ventured out to the water a handful of times, each during the day to grab living essentials and food. Tonight, the world is magical. The moon peeks up in the east, just crowning above the low houses. Stars twinkle overhead. Music from a small club further down beats to a hypnotic sway.

Kate pauses at the third bar. A purple neon sign signals Bar 360. It’s packed. A hostess whisks out a platter of chips and peanuts to a table. A waiter dishes out martinis right beside her. The table of men in the corner catch Kates’ eyes and wave enthusiastically, beckoning her to join them. Her eyebrows twitch down and her gaze flickers to her feet. She turns back to the path that follows the water and continues down the port.

A lesser crowded bar catches her attention. She ducks inside. It’s a simple black bar, dimly lit, with a few couples spinning and dancing close to the restrooms. Near the register, she slaps down five euros and holds up two fingers. Two shot glasses are flipped onto the rubber bar mat and black sambuca is layered with green. The absinthe chills her throat as the sambuca warms it soon after. Kate’s breath steadies.

She tucks her wallet under her armpit and straightens her posture. The second floats down effortlessly. The clock behind the bar reads 10:50.

The world moves in sluggish motions. Fifty-one, fifty-two, eleven o’ four. Kate props her elbows on the back of the bar and rocks her head from side to side. A deep breath and fresh salty air tickles her nostrils. A man to her right catches her eye. Tall. Built. A black v-shirt and straight jeans. He holds a clear cocktail glass in his hands. His head is bent in conversation with a shorter man, arms bulging out of his white shirt. His eyes glance up. They lock on Kate’s. She doesn’t flinch away. Rather, she holds his gaze. Steadily helped by the warm liquid in her stomach. She cocks an eyebrow and dips out of the bar.

Bar 360 stands before her. The crowds are still there, minus a table or two that have been cleared. He’s there. Andrea.

Intense blue eyes beneath thick brows were locked on Kate. Striped linen pants and a loosely buttoned shirt clothed him. A glass of red wine swirls in his hand. Her heart stops, world throbbing to the beat of the music. He’s at her side in an instant.

“Katharine.” “Kate, please.”

“It’s been some time.” “We’ve never met.”

“My point exactly. You wouldn’t return my messages.” “I was cautious.”

“Why?”

Kate holds his gaze, nose to nose. He positions himself square against her, breast to breast, nose to nose.

“Why? Were you afraid?”

Her stomach flutters. Chills run along her arms. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“You don’t.” Kate whispered. Andrea’s head moved in, his teeth barely nipping at her earlobe.

“Your body is saying otherwise.”

One hand slides around to her lower back. The other holds his wine. Kate sways into him.

His warmth passes into her, a gust of wind breaking on his back.

“Are you going to allow me to buy you a drink or shall we go?” “Where?”

“You’ll see.”

Andrea’s car fit the two of them snuggly. His left hand managed the wheel and stick shift simultaneously. His right managed Kate. Two fingers flicked open the buttons of her jeans, another slid down the zipper.

“Don’t stay quiet,” he murmured. He sped around corners, slowing only when there were pedestrians. “I can feel you. Don’t be shy with me.”

Kate’s eyes remained locked on the road. Her breath quivered and her legs loosened.

The populous of the port fades away. The night envelopes the two of them. Thick trees teeter on cliffs. They are the only two left on the road. Warm air floats in through the open windows. The breeze carries off Kate’s soft gasps like a feather in the wind.

“I want you to finish before we get there.” “Get… where?”

“You’ll see.”

The two stop on the shoulder of a road. Kate rebuttons her jeans and surveys the area. A cliff drops off to the right. A small restaurant is to the left. The clock on Andrea’s car reads midnight. He catches Kate’s gaze on the hour.

“Just in time. Come.”

There was a sloped pathway that zigzagged down the cliffside. Andrea grabs a small backpack and beckons for Kate to follow.

At the base of the path is a set of natural pools at the end of a small bay. A white building is tucked into the side of the mountain. The lights are mostly dimmed to cast a gentle light upon the pools. There are multiple groups immersed. Subtle conversations mesh together. Laughter and cigarette smoke become one. Andrea sets the backpack down. He pulls out two pieces of clothing and hands them to Kate.

“See you in a minute.”

Kate fingers the bikini and glances over her shoulder. None of those in the pools were paying her any attention. The jeans slip over her hips and knees. Her top unravels. The string bikini is just her size.

She feels the nip of the midnight air on her skin. Her breasts perk up and her skin is chilled. Andrea appears. His chest is smooth and defined. The slope of his hips disappears into the fabric of his trunks.

The two stand immobilized. Each breath is a tidal wave. Each exhale, a swirl of water on the rocks. His hand grasps Kate’s. A few steps take them both to the edge of the pools.

“It’s warm!” Kate exclaims.

Andrea leads her further in until the water reaches their waists. “Here thermal water mixes with saltwater. The combination is…” “Magical.”

“Yes,” he chuckles. “Yes, and you are here with me to share it.”

His arms pull Kate in. She sits in his lap straddling him in the water. All the voices fade away. The chill is whisked away by his person.

The water pushes and pulls them against one another with each gentle wave. His hand drifts lower and under her. The thin bikini is brushed to the side. Kate glances over her shoulder at the others.

“No,” Andrea whispers. His finger brings Kate’s chin back to face him. “We’re the only two that matter.”

His mouth envelopes Kate’s. An urgent pressure is returned. His tongue brushes hers.

Their breath remains mingled and unmoving for a moment, broken only when his fingers enter. Kate’s mouth emits a subtle gasp, noticed only by Andrea. Her hands drift down his chest and to the tie of his trunks.

Andrea lifts Kate up just enough to position her on top of him. The first entrance takes her breath away. She comes down on his, enclosing her mouth on his, hand on his back. The water ebbs and flows and the two rock against one another. A single vessel in their own personal ocean.

Nothing else matters. His hand caresses her front, teeth nicking her ear, her neck, her breasts. She pushes up, settles down, and rocks in a circle.

Only them. The water. And the sea.

Their breath becomes rasp and quickened. Kate’s grip on his back tightens. His thrusts become urgent. Her head tips back. The stars shine magnificently. Unblemished by city lights or clouds. Dazzling. A soft smile settles on her face and her eyes close.

Tipping her chin back down, she finds Andrea. Swirls of passion, skin, and water mix and they are one.

Their skin had not quite dried when they reached the car when sweat brought their heartbeats racing once again. They lay layered in the passenger’s seat, engulfed in one another’s’ presence. Everywhere his hands touched left scorched embers of feeling on Kate’s body. Chills ran up their arms and down to their toes. Their touch reached every inch of one another, leaving its own distinct imprint.

“When are you leaving?” Kate questioned. The two sat silent and re-clothed in their respected seats of the car.

“When are you coming to Naples?” “When do you want me?”

“Now.”

“No, really.”

“I’ll always want you.” “Name a date.”

“Three weeks. I’ll have the place to myself. Be there."