CHAPTER 1

Part 1

POSITANO, ITALY

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The sound of a late bird flying to catch up with its flock before nightfall brings me back to my miserable reality. I look around in daze, and it takes me a few seconds to realize where I am. I lost track of time and have been sitting on the damp beach right on the edge of the water, staring vacantly at the horizon and off into space. Now the sun has completely set, leaving sporadic, puffy clouds tinted with the beautiful range of red, orange, and purple colors. But I am not in the mood to appreciate these amazing beauties. My mind is completely numb.

I look around, but there is no one to be seen; the beach is empty, and so am I. I wipe away my tears, get up, and, shaking my skirt, climb the steep stairs from Laurito Beach. This secluded, small, and wild beach is Positano's best-kept secret. For decades, it has been the place where locals escape the noise and crowds of the summer rush. And it is exactly for this reason that I came here to be alone. The name Laurito derives from the abundance of laurel shrubs that grow wild in this small cove. I am so exhausted that I must practically drag my body up the stairs; going down, it didn't seem this long.

I don't know how long it takes, but finally I get to the hotel and my room. I take a hot shower and drop myself on the bed, letting the tears roll down my cheeks, now sobbing aloud.

It is two days since I have had any real food. For the past couple of days, I have had only water, coffee, and few pieces of apple. I can hear my stomach growling, begging for something tangible to eat. I am starving, but at the same time, I feel sick in my gut and can't eat anything. Even the thought of food makes me want to puke, so I just push my knees into my belly and stay in bed.

I'm not crying anymore; there are no more tears left to release. Now I am just angry, wanting revenge. The events of the last ten days pass in front of my eyes like a movie. Ten days ago, I had a fiancé, a well-paying job in a law firm, and a wedding to anticipate with excitement. I was stressing over every little detail of the wedding, reviewing the dinner menu, the dessert menu, and the decorations. At night, I paced my apartment, sorting out my vows, wanting them to be more emotional and heartwarming than John's vows. That worthless cheater — how naïve of me!

Finally, the day was here. I looked beautiful in my tight, white dress, showing my slim and muscular figure. I am grateful to God for my tons of shiny light-brown hair. I don't care for heavy makeup or big, sticky hair, the kind that, due to lots of products, even a blowing wind can't move. I prefer a more natural look. So I softly gathered my hair back and placed in it an orange flower matching my bridal bouquet. I wore a soft-peach lipstick and was ready.

I heard my uncle knocking. He was waiting at the door to walk me down the aisle because my father was never around. I took one last look in the mirror. I was completely happy, with a big smile on my lips. I walked toward the door and opened it. My uncle and I walked slowly with the music. All the guests were standing, looking at me with admiration. Gliding by, head high, with a big smile on my lips, I heard the compliments, and my entire face shone with joy. What a fool! John was standing with the groomsmen, and the bridesmaids were on the other side, holding their small bouquets. My uncle kissed me on the forehead and went to his seat.

Finally, the moment of the truth was upon me. The priest started the ceremony. I was reviewing my vows silently when suddenly John blurted out, "Sorry! I can't do this. I am in love with Cindy." And with this, he rushed out of the church. Cindy, one of my high school friends and one of the bridesmaids, dropped her bouquet and ran after him.

I was frozen in place, shocked and humiliated, not understanding what had just happened. Swiftly, I was ten again, begging my father not to leave while my mom sobbed and my two brothers stood in the corner of the room, shaking and watching the scene. Hearing my mother's voice, I came back to the present, feeling confused. My mom hugged me tightly and guided me out of the church. And as we were passing through the aisle, I could feel the heaviness of everyones pitiful stare at me. I was trembling uncontrollably. My entire body was numb. My legs were frozen in place, refusing to move forward.

It is embarrassing enough to be left at the altar. Now imagine being from a traditional Sicilian family and being left at the altar at the age of thirty-two. That was a total disaster and a dishonor for the entire family. My first thought was how to explain this to Grandma Rita — and how disappointed she was going to be. My uncle and mother helped me, or practically pushed me, into the car, and my uncle drove us to the hotel. And since then, I have been crying in bed or by the beach and avoiding the family, not wanting to see anyone, to talk, or to eat anything.

The sad memory of my father leaving us comes back, hunting me in my dreams. As a little girl I was extremely attached to him despite his cold attitude towards his children. At night I cried in bed for months after he left. And now John leaving me for someone else, Why these things happen to me?

There is a knock at the door, and I hear my friend Rachel pleading with me to open the door. I get up reluctantly and let her in. Rachel, my kind and bubbly friend, hugs me, "That is enough. You can't lock yourself in this room forever. Get dressed. We are going out to eat and talk."

The fact is, I'm starving and tired, so I grab the first thing my hand finds in the closet, put it on, and go out with Rachel. We walk out of the hotel and find a cozy, local restaurant. I like to be in a quiet place away from everyone, so we get a table at the corner and sit. I am drained, empty of any feelings, and have a big headache.

Rachel starts with a calm and comforting voice, saying I deserve someone who truly loves and appreciates me. It is better, she says, that I discover now what a jerk John is rather than after the wedding. Rachel is usually cheerful and jokes around. But in tough situations, she is the one who needs comfort and relies on me. Thus, seeing her serious face as she tries to console me, I start to laugh. She says, "I am trying hard to be calm here. Otherwise you know I would be tearing John and Cindy to pieces."

The waiter, a young, good-looking guy, approaches us to get our order. Rachel, wanting to cheer me up, starts flirting with him, but I fall right back into my sadness again, just staring at the table without any reaction. We order our food and two glasses of red wine.

Rachel starts again, reassuring me, "You are strong and will find true love, and all these events will become a distant memory." I appreciate her effort to comfort me but do not see love anywhere in my future now.

I say, "No more men for me ever, Rachel."

She looks at me warmly, "You think that now, but it will change."

The cute waiter brings the food, and we start eating our dinner and drinking our wine. I try not to think about what has happened and let Rachel enjoy her meal. At the hotel, Rachel says my mom is deeply worried and has been trying to contact me, so I should go see her. I call my mom and then go to her room. She starts crying, hugging me, and saying how worried she is; she has been trying to talk to me for the past two days.

I call my brothers to join us. I tell them not to worry and to go back to their lives. I say, "You don't have to stay here. Everything will be okay. Please go back to your work and your lives, and forget about this sad incident. I want to take a few days, and then I'll go back home."

My mom says, "What about Grandma? She is old and frail, and you know how devastated she is going to be. This isn't going to look good with our relatives."

Her insensitive remark makes me so angry that I want to explode.

I look at her with rage. "Mom, please! I can't worry about my Sicilian family's reputation now. Let me deal with that in my own time."

She hugs, and kisses me with tears is her eyes, and accepts to go back home with my brothers.

My family, friends, and all other guests are back to their homes and daily lives. Disappointed, and sad from what they had witnessed at the wedding ceremony, each offering me some words of comfort before leaving.

I need to take some time to grasp what exactly happened. I talk to Rachel, about my decision, and she agrees to stay for few more days.

John and I had chosen April for our wedding because the weather would be pleasant without the crowd of tourists in high season.

Now Rachel and I are grateful for the peace and quiet we can have. She says, "Let's forget about that worthless guy and just have fun." I love Positano and don't want this to ruin my wonderful memories. We like running down the stairs every morning to our favorite café to get cappuccino and breakfast. Rachel has been a superb friend; even when my father left, she and her parents were there for us.

She wants to cheer me up, and I am trying not to disappoint her, but it isn't always easy to keep my spirits up. I loved John, believing we were going to have a life together. Every night in bed, crying, I conclude that something must be wrong with me, How can a father leave his little girl and never look back? Didn't he love me? As a child I didn't know better, and thought maybe it was my fault that my father left us.And now John leaving me at the altar reinforces that idea. I pray, asking God for guidance on what to do now. Where should I go? New York, where those two cheaters live?

Every corner of Positano reminds me of John, and the last time we were here.

Seeing my despair, makes Rachel angry beyond measure. She screams with rage, "That ugly Cindy couldn't find a man for herself, so she had to steal yours. What kind of a friend does that?"

After spending a few more days in Positano, We have to go back home. I hate going back to New York, and even the thought of it stresses me to my bones. But for now we have to go back to our jobs and our families. On our last day we walk to the beach, and go to a restaurant for lunch. And sitting there reminds me of the events of our previous trip to Positano.

Since very young age, I was curious about the world, and dreamed of traveling to different countries. I wanted to explore the world, meet people and learn about their culture.

After finishing law school and passing the bar exam, I immediately started working for a big law firm to aid my mom, so she could teach fewer classes, and have some free time to herself. She had worked hard for years to raise her three children without our father, and to pay for our education. I thought now it was our responsibility to help her. Therefore I put the world travel dreams on hold.

I was approaching thirty, and my mom was on my case to get married, saying it was going to be late for having children. Most of my friends from high school and college were already married and with one or more children. I was in no rush to get married, but my mom and my brothers wouldn't leave me alone. They kept pressuring me to find a man and get married. My mom said she wanted grandkids, and my brothers wanted nieces and nephews. My response was, "Tell your sons to get married and give you grandchildren."

I was happy with my life but felt that something was missing, and for me it sure wasn't a husband. I always thought, What is the purpose of living? There is definitely more to life than our everyday routines. I believe we human beings have extraordinary potential and should try to reach for our highest capacity.

Sometimes I revisited my childhood dreams and planned for traveling to different countries.

I talked to Rachel about taking a vacation together, and after calculating our budget, we decided to take a trip to Italy. We had dreamed about traveling there for years, and had been saving and planning with anticipation. We had been looking at travel books about different cities, searching online, and talking to our friends about it. On weekends we sat at our favorite coffeeshop for hours, fantasizing our adventures in Italy.

Finally, we purchased our tickets, got on the airplane, and arrived in Rome. I didn't contact my cousins who live in Rome to avoid family obligations.

Rachel and I wanted to visit the famous Trevi Fountain that is featured in many romantic movies.

Trevi Fountain, the largest Fountain in Rome is a Baroque master peace and a site that all tourists visit. The tradition is that we stand next to the fountain with our back to it, and throw three coins over our shoulder in the water. The first one is for returning to Rome soon, the second is to bring love, and the third one is for marriage. On our first day in Rome, Rachel and I walked from our hotel to the fountain. We passed a narrow alley, and then the crowd of people around this large fountain with huge statues appeared in front us. Rachel and I each took three coins out of our wallet, pushed our way through the waves of tourists, and got to the fountain. We threw our coins one after another over our shoulder and found our way out of there. In the street Rachel said, "Did you ask for love?"

"Maybe, and you?"

She responded, Maybe, with a loud laughter.

We stayed in Rome for a few more days visited other historic sites and had a fantastic time. Then we visited Florence and went to Marsala, Sicily, visiting my grandma. She was happy to see Rachel and me but disappointed that I wasn't married; instead of coming with my husband, I was traveling with a girl.

For our last stop, we had chosen Positano in Amalfi Coast. One afternoon, as we were passing the hotel lobby to go out, I saw John as he walked toward us, coming from outside. Our eyes met, and we just stood there, staring at each other for few seconds until Rachel pulled my arm and we went out.

She said, "What happened, Tara? Do you know that guy from somewhere, or did he hypnotize you?"

"No. Let's go eat. I am just hungry," I replied.

Coming back from our dinner half drunk and laughing, we saw John sitting in the lobby of the hotel, facing the entrance. He got up and walked toward us, standing right in front of me. Rachel and I, after finishing a bottle of wine with dinner, were in a giggly mood. And seeing this guy's face blocking our way and staring me directly in the eye made us laugh.

But without moving, he said, "I have been thinking about you since this afternoon. May I invite you to dinner, drink, or dessert?" We consulted each other with our eyes and told him we already had food and drinks, but we could go out for coffee. We sat in a café and ordered espresso with some pastry. John and I talked for hours without noticing the time. He said he was a businessman traveling between Europe and the USA. After a while, I saw Rachel yawn.

We walked back to the hotel, and after saying good night, John asked whether he could spend the following day with us. I wanted to see him again, but this was my vacation with Rachel. I wanted to ask how she felt about it first. Hugging John, I said, "Let's talk about it tomorrow." In our room, Rachel and I stayed up until past midnight, talking about John and deciding whether we should see him again.

She said, "If you want to spend some time with John, it is okay with me."

After that, John and I were inseparable. John was kind and accommodating. He invited us to the best and most expensive restaurants in Positano; Rachel and I had been refraining from entering them due to the steep prices on the menu. He was warm and respectful to Rachel, knowing how important she is to me, and if she was unhappy, I would be too.

In the few last days of our vacation, John and I become closer. We talked about the future since I lived in New York and he lived in San Francisco. Every night Rachel and I stayed up, talking about him; she asked whether we had kissed yet.

"When do you think that happened, Rachel?" I replied. "We are always together, and I prefer it this way."

Finally, when we were leaving Positano, he held me, and we shared a long, delicious kiss.

Back in New York, I talked to John for hours every day, in the morning and at night. I was happy, thinking I had finally found my soul mate. I told my mom about meeting John, bragging about how kind and different he was.

"Are you happy now that I have a boyfriend, Mom?" I asked.

She kissed me saying, "Yes, I am happy, and it was definitely time that you find a boyfriend and get married."

After a few months of missing each other and talking on the phone, one Friday night around nine o'clock, someone knocked at my apartment door. Looking through the peephole, I saw John on the other side, holding a bouquet of pink roses.

I opened the door, looked at him for a few seconds with widened eyes from surprise, and jumped into his arm. We spent an intense, passionate night together. The next morning I woke up completely happy and made coffee and breakfast for us. We had a heart to heart conversation about our future together.

"This long-distance relationship isn't working for me," John said. "I miss you every minute. I am going to move to New York and work from here."