Good at Being Alive(54)

“We can climb it,” Caden says. “I’ll go with you.”

Ugh. An hour and a half spent with Caden? No thank you.

“I’ll go,” Theo says, as if Caden hasn’t spoken. “Maybe you guys could shoot us taking off and just grab some stock footage of the top?”

“Fantastic,” says Lars. “Take some video too. We might be able to use it. But don’t forget to be ready to leave for the airport by five.”

Theo and I hand our mics back over and turn to head up the gravel path. We’re out of view within minutes, surrounded by trees, and my shoulders settle—it’s a relief to know we’re not being watched. “Thank you for doing this.”

“I wanted to see it too,” he says. “I also don’t trust Caden.”

“Yeah, me neither,” I reply.

His head jerks toward me. “Has he tried something?”

I shake my head. “He’s been a little gross. Nothing I can’t handle.”

After fifteen minutes of climbing, we’ve got a view of Capri below us—umbrella pine trees and white stucco homes sprawling all the way to the deep blue sea. Not long after, the chairlift suddenly begins moving far overhead and I turn to grin at Theo, who smiles back.

I think I sort of prefer this quiet climb anyway, our breath and our sneakers slipping over gravel the only sounds. Hopefully he does too.

Soon we’re high enough that Capri is tiny below us and the sea makes up most of the view, with Sorrento a haze in the distance. It’s drier and cooler here, mostly rocks ahead and little vegetation, the path wide enough and empty enough that we can easily walk side by side. I reach into my bag and offer him the bottle of limoncello I brought. “Go ahead. It’s just alcohol-flavored water.”

He laughs. “Only you would bring booze for a hike.”

“To be fair, I brought booze for a chairlift. Very different. To give you an analogy you’d understand, it’s like when the royal family drinks at Wimbledon versus when they’re playing tennis in the backyard.”

“Nothing about that analogy clarified the situation,” he says, but he takes a swig and so do I.

We reach the top at last and take some video of the view for Lars—the same rock formations we sailed near yesterday, and the yachts anchored close to them. He takes a few photos of his own—I’m pretty sure I was in the shot too, but I seem to be in most of the pictures he takes, and he no longer complains. Apparently, he’s good at editing me out.

We’ll take the chairlift back, obviously. It’s for the best since we both need time to pack and shower. I sort of wish it had stayed broken anyway.

“This trip went fast, didn’t it?” I ask, pulling the limoncello out of my bag again and taking a swig. “Although waiting for your erection to go down seemed like it took a year.”

“Rebecca.”

I laugh and push the bottle toward him. “Sorry. Just had to slip that in there, which is what you clearly hoped would happen yesterday. But yeah, it’s weird to go from doing so much, like nonstop, to doing absolutely nothing at home.”

“I’m so glad you’ve introduced the topic.” He takes another sip of the limoncello before he hands it back to me. “Have you given any more thought to what you might want to do with your life?”

I lift the bottle. “I’m pretty sure this covers it. There will probably also be some sleeping.”

“Bex.”

I exhale heavily. He’s so tiresome when he’s pursuing the truth. “I don’t know. It’s like I’m not sure who I am anymore.”

Tourists unload from the chairlift and descend toward us. We step closer to each other, like pioneers circling their wagons.

“Why?” he asks. “Your situation has changed but you haven’t.”

I tip my head. I think maybe I have changed. I sense it inside me, this odd sort of opening up, an unspooling. I’d stop it if I could—but I don’t think I can. It’s as if there’s an entirely different girl, long buried, and she’s digging her way out whether I want her to or not.

“I was always going to come in second before, and I was used to that,” I admit slowly. “To give you an analogy you’ll understand, it’s like Bronwyn was William and I was Harry.”

“You realize we do actually have regular family issues in the UK? You don’t have to relate everything back to the royal family.”

I shrug. “I was going to do a Harry Potter analogy, but nothing came to mind.”

“Truly, the analogies are unnecessary. Let’s start at the beginning. What was your favorite topic in school?”

“Physics,” I say, turning for the line to the chairlift. “I really liked physics. I failed it, but I really liked it.”

He laughs. “So you weren’t good at it? This might not be helpful.”

I hesitate, then release the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “No, actually, I was. I failed on purpose.” I told myself I just didn’t care enough to try, but that wasn’t it at all, was it? “They wanted to put me in AP Physics. But I couldn’t do better than Bronwyn without it becoming a problem for Jessie. It was…” I shake my head. “I did it for a very long time.”

“Jesus,” Theo whispers. He grabs the limoncello from my hand and takes a long drink. “Is that why you do it? Is that why you try so hard to convince everyone you’re some slacker who does nothing but watch TV all day?”