The serpentine descent to the harbor by taxi was a blur, bringing us into the Marina Grande at ten minutes past the hour. We fetched our things from the bar and lumbered toward the docks. I had Holly’s cumbersome bags in either hand. Unease flowed through my body, making me queasy.
Patrice came running toward us, waving. “She have gone,” he said.
“Who?”
“This ferry to Napoli. She has disappear without you. The time is passed, and you have missed her.”
I shook my head. It was impossible to return to the Villa Clio now, heaving our suitcases, tails between our legs. We’d have to wait in the Marina Grande until morning, staying at a hotel. “Fucking hell,” I said.
“Not to worry, Alexi. I have Giovanni to help,” Patrice said, fluttering his wings, beckoning. “Please, come this way.”
Rather dazed, we followed him to the western part of the harbor, where yachts and local fishing boats were tied up for the evening, hip to hip. Giovanni’s ungainly vessel idled at the dock, deep-throated, ready to board. The water had turned deeply sanguine in the harbor, and a yellow moon hung in the sky like some improbable lantern, lighting the way to Naples.
“Giovanni and I will take you,” he said. “He has no problem. I have engage the boat for you.”
I looked quizzically at Giovanni.
“Napoli, no?” he inquired, with a sweet smile.
“Napoli, sì,” I said.
“Andiamo, subito,” he called, matter-of-factly, revving the engines in neutral as Patrice helped Holly onto the deck. I lowered our suitcases in, then leaped aboard as Patrice untied the lines.
There was a click as the gears engaged, followed by a low groaning sound of the engine. The familiar marine smell of diesel mingled with salty air, the boat yawing from side to side, lifted by currents. We followed a bright yellow swath of moonlight on the water, making our way across the Bay of Naples toward what, for me, seemed like the greatest mystery of all, my life to come.
“I am sad for this,” Patrice said, quietly, with a hand on my thigh. “You are my best of friend, Alexi,” he said.
“And you’re mine,” I said, my thoughts turning to Nicky. Funny how good you can feel, he’d written, when you hear certain things, which is probably why we say them. To cheer ourselves up. To make it possible to put one foot in front of the other without losing it.
I glanced briefly at Holly, who watched Capri dwindle in the dusk behind us, sinking from view. But I refused to look back myself. I had looked back enough for a man of my age, and from now on, my direction was forward. That was my only resolution, and one I knew I could never keep.