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“Where are we going?”
“Nowhere.”
“Ok.”
The stars twinkled above, their lights catching on the surface of the ocean waves that gently lapped at the base of the cliffs by their side. The grasses and reeds swayed in the wind, flashing past in blurs of green and brown, the occasional blush of lilac as wild flowers caught in the headlamp of the beaten-up Vespa as they continued to climb. It was silent apart from the low grumble of the engine that worked to pull them higher. It had been a few hours, and they’d passed the last of the farmhouses sometime back. When Luca looked over his shoulder, he could see the soft glow of the village lights brightening the horizon. There was little between them now, the hillside dark and sleepy.
Up this high the night wind was sharp, and Luca pulled himself closer to Alberto’s back, arms wrapped tight around his front trying to steal some extra warmth. Alberto laughed softly, one hand moving from the handlebars to grasp Luca’s own. His fingertips were rough, coarse even, as they brushed his skin. Luca ran his thumb over his own. They were soft; this one small difference highlighting the divisions between them that had grown over the years.
“Don’t worry, we’ll stop soon.”
Luca nodded against Alberto, head turned to the side to look out over the sea. He’d never been this far out from Portorosso. Even after having spent the past three summers back in his home town, he’d never really strayed too far. The months were spent lazily drifting between his parent’s home and the Marcovaldos’, filling time with chores that made him wistful of a simpler time, or playing childish games of tag or beach ball. He’d never wanted more. As much as he loved school, the city life of Genova wore him down, so when he returned, he was happy to spend his days doing nothing much at all. It had never occurred to him that just beyond these hills there were places worth exploring. It was a beautiful perspective.
As he watched the slow movement of the waves, and the silhouette of the island becoming smaller and smaller, the Vespa turned suddenly, causing him to start. They’d turned off the main road onto a much less worn path, barely wide enough for them to pass. The grasses brushed up against his legs, and the Vespa bounced, struggling to find grip on the loose rocks as it valiantly attempted to continue. The trees were becoming denser, the light of the moon reflecting off the ocean becoming more distant, and either side of them the fields were dark, his pupils expanding to pick out the shapes of farm animals sleeping, huddled together in the cold night.
They carried on like this for another few miles, Alberto whispering encouragement to the old Vespa, the only source of light now the headlamp that threw shadows off into the distance. Luca shivered. He trusted Alberto, but he had become accustomed to the constant buzz of traffic outside of his window, of the sounds of city goers passing by in the early hours on their way home from the bars and cafes. The stillness out here scared him. They were completely alone.
Eventually they stopped. Alberto killed the engine and suddenly the silence and the darkness was absolute. He unwrapped Luca’s arms from around his waist and slowly climbed off the Vespa, bending down to release the kickstand. Luca watched quietly, still seated as Alberto stood up, pocketed the keys and then turned to him. His eyes glowed softly in the darkness, as Luca knew his would be also, a subtle reminder to both of them that this was a well-crafted façade, one built up now over years of practice and imitation. He held his hand out to him.
“Come on, we’re here.”
“Where’s here?”
“You ask too many questions, just come on, you’ll see.”
Luca paused, looking around. He couldn’t see anything much beyond the walls they had stopped next to. Reluctantly, he took hold of Alberto’s hand and threw his leg over the Vespa, stepping up. The ground was uneven and the stones shifted as he lost his footing, Alberto quick to catch him by the arm.
“Careful,” he said, pulling him back up. “Stick close to me. Can’t have you getting hurt before you’ve even seen it.”
“Seen what?”
“Hush. Just wait.”
And so they started to walk. It was slow going in the dark, and Luca quickly understood why they’d left the Vespa behind. The path became windy and steep, the ground even more unpredictable. Luca envied the way Alberto moved so effortlessly, his predator eyes sharper and better able to spot where to step next, but he was glad he was patient with him, never letting go of his hand as they made their way further up. Neither spoke.
They followed close to the stone wall along their right-hand side, climbing higher into the hills until they reached a wooden gate, slightly ajar. It was an old pedestrian through gate, the timber beginning to rot and the hinges long-rusted. Alberto pushed against it, the gate giving with some resistance, widening the opening until he could comfortably squeeze through. A worn signpost hung loosely by a single screw, the words proprietà privata - nessun intruso just visible. Luca pulled back.
“Wait, Alberto, are you sure we can go this way?”
“Yeh, don’t worry. I know the guy whose land this is. I helped him out last winter when he needed an extra pair of hands around the farm. That’s how I even know this place exists.”
“And what is this pla-”
“Hey, I told you. No questions. Now come on, it’s just through this field.”
Cautiously, Luca followed through the gate, careful to avoid the splinters around the edges, and continued to make his way across the field with Alberto. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been this high before. Looking up, the night sky was darker than he’d ever remembered seeing it. The stars shone with such an intensity; bright white specks dappling the black canvas of the night with an abstract beauty, like someone had thrown them there with reckless abandon. Chaotic and wonderful. Focusing, he could make out the constellations he had spent evenings pouring over as a child in the book Guilia had given to him. Ursa Minor, Cassiopeia, Pegasus. They looked even more beautiful out here than they ever had through a telescope in Genova.
As they started to come to the crest of the hill, Alberto turned, grabbing both of Luca’s hands.
“Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“ Luca. ”
“Sorry, okay, okay.”
And he did, letting Alberto guide him slowly forward. It was so quiet, just the whisper of the wind through the grass and their breathing as they made their way the final few feet. They stopped. Luca felt Alberto move behind him, arms wrapping around him and head resting gently on his shoulder. He could feel his breath tickle his ear and it made him smile.
“Okay. Open your eyes.”
So he did, and what he saw made his heart stop.
Laid out before them were sprawling fields and vineyards, patchworks shades of greens and golds, falling down the hillside to Portorosso beyond. The village was like a picture book. The lights from the town welcoming and warm, little beacons in the distance that shimmered and shone. The tower of Portorosso stood above it all to the left, and if Luca squinted, he could see the path that snaked down the hillside, bringing back memories of bike races, and silly competitions and all the things that felt like the most important things in the world when you were thirteen.
And then past the village, out across the harbour, the island. With its broken tower steadfast against the night sky, dark and lifeless. He was hit with a wave of sadness, not for himself, but for Alberto. They hadn’t ever really spoke about what had happened before. Alberto always wanted to focus on the here and now. But seeing it like that, imposing and giant and lonely, isolated from the town by miles of cold ocean filled him with something he couldn’t quite grasp. For him, the island was a reminder of what was to become his future, the start of a summer that changed his life in a way he would have never imagined. The day he was pulled out of the water by a young boy who was brave, and friendly, and everything he wasn’t felt like yesterday. It felt like a lifetime ago. For Alberto, the island was a constant shadow, a threat lying dormant. Luca felt him nuzzle against his neck.
“Well, what do you think?”
“How many times have you been here before?”
Alberto laughed, grabbing Luca hard around the waist and pulling him down into the grass.
“What is with you and the questions? Answer mine!”
Luca laughed back, untangling himself from Alberto’s embrace and sitting up on his knees to gaze out over the landscape.
“It’s beautiful. I don’t think there’s much more I can say.”
Alberto sat up, side brushing against Luca’s.
“That’s okay. We can just sit here for a bit if you want?”
“Yeh, I’d like that.”
They sat for a while in silence. The wind had calmed and Luca rested his head against Alberto’s shoulder as he spent time picking out tiny details in the town. He could just about make out the piazza where they’d met Guila. The tall cork oak tree just outside of town where Alberto had crashed the Vespa that summer. The olive groves where they’d firs-
“A couple of times a month I reckon.”
Luca, head cocked, turned to look at Alberto who was staring out towards the ocean. “What?”
“You asked, earlier. How many times had I been here before. I probably come a couple of times a month, when I just need somewhere to think, you know?” He paused. “I probably waste too much time coming up here.”
He went silent, still. He turned away from Luca, head down, pulling his knees close to his chest.
“You’re probably thinking it’s a bit of a waste of your time as well, me dragging you up here too. It’s not exactly the easiest place to get to.”
Luca thought. It really wasn’t, and the ride up had been somewhat cold and uncomfortable. But he smiled, nudging Alberto gently in the side, prompting him to look up. Those green eyes, so bold, so bright, tinged with something sad; he could dive right in, he just might.
He lifted his hand, running his thumb softly along Alberto’s jaw, tilting his face.
“No, that’s okay.”
He leaned closer, breathing the same air.
“I want to waste all of my time with you.”