Expiration Dating (19 page)

Chapter
Thirty Two

S
pring break seemed like eons ago. After our discussion, Andrew and I spent more time together than ever. We found ourselves spending fewer nights in the dancing circuit and more time making dinner or grabbing a beer with friends.

Later in the week,
we were making our way back from a bar, surrounded by his roommates. On this evening, Andrew caught himself holding my hand in front of his roommates. Though Andrew and I weren’t
official,
they were all aware of our situation; my company a few times a week in Andrew’s bed gave it away. For a second, as he looked down at our interlocked hands, he looked like he wanted to disengage our fingers, but after a second he broke into a grin. I watched the emotions flash across his face like a short film. Instead, he grabbed my hand tighter, leaned over, and planted a kiss on my mouth.

             
“I don’t even care, anymore!” he said into my ear, nodding toward his roommates. It wasn’t a whisper and it wasn’t a shout; it was a revelation. I squeezed his hand and traced his palm with my thumb. For Andrew, public hand holding was a huge step.

             
The next day was Friday, and I could barely fall asleep as I lay in bed with Andrew; tomorrow our class was heading up to Cinque Terre. The field trip was planned for only a day, so we were going to hike during the sunlight hours, eat dinner, then head home on the night train. It was supposedly one of the most beautiful places in all of Italy, which was quite a prestigious title.

In the morning, I arrived at the train with Andrew, and together we secured car with Emilia and Megan. We attempted to play cards, but the early hour combined with our mild headaches resulted in the group dozing on and off the majority of the ride. When the brakes jerked to a screeching stop, we were more than relieved to stand and stretch our legs, shuffling to dismount from the platform.

I’d been watc
hing my feet to avoid slipping, so by the time I raised my eyes to the sights in front of us, I was a good distance away from the cars. First in my line of sight was the cliffs; I dropped my bag, and brushed a hand over my open mouth. The hair on my arms stood straight up. Five small cities were built directly into the hills next to the ocean. It looked like a child’s painting; the colors were vibrant, the houses scattered haphazardly across the green hills at treacherous angles. The apartments were painted with pastel pinks and yellows, deep blues and off shades of red.

Each town had some sort of pathway leading up to it, though from where we were standing I could only clearly make out the first village and an outline of the second, I waited as
our class gathered at the base of the pathway to begin our hike. I shivered and wished I owned a better rain jacket. The fleece I was wearing was already damp and heavy from the drizzle. Emilia and Andrew were prepared - Emilia sported her Pata-gucci jacket from the first day at the airport, while Megan just seemed indifferent to the wetness. As we began the trek, the four of us easily ended up in front of the pack.

             
“Guys, I think we lost the rest of our group,” I said.

             
“And?” Megan asked.

             
“You wanna wait for the frat boys to catch up?” Andrew asked, not slowing down a hair.

             
“On we go,” I said as we continued on the rocky path. I looked over the edge, a huge mistake.

             
“You guys…” I said, slowing to a stop.

             
“Come on, it’s fine,” Andrew said.

             
“I don’t like this.” I glanced back over the edge. The trail would lead us between the five cities, but the path between them was rugged and slick with rain. We were near the edge of the cliffs, and there were no railing between us and the crashing waves below. In addition, we were coming up on a narrow point, which would force us to travel in a single file line.

             
“You guys! I can’t do this!” I was nearly crying. I could feel the rocks under my feet crumbling and sliding. I flailed my arms reaching for something to steady my weight, as well as my nerves.

             
Andrew was the first to realize the extent of my fear. He came back, arms outstretched. “You’re doing great; you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

             
“God, god god god ohmygod I’m going to fall and die,” I felt stuck, holding onto a tiny plant.

             
“Let go of the plant – it’s not going to help you,” Andrew coached.

             
“I can’t! I CAN’T!”

             
“YES, YOU CAN.”

             
“You don’t understand. You don’t get it,” I forced the tears not to fall.

             
“I understand, Dana. Listen to me. You will be okay, and I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” Andrew made eye contact with me. “I want you to listen to my voice.”

             
I nodded with a shaky gaze.

             
“Ok, do you see the rock to your right? I want you to let go of the plant and put your hand there. Take one more step, and you’ll be able to grab my hand.”

             
I breathed deeply, trying to gather myself. I slowly let go of the plant.

             
“Good,” Andrew said. “That’s it. You’re doing great. Now one more step… There! You did it!” I clasped onto Andrew for dear life, my heart still racing. He felt solid; I couldn’t let go.

             
“Okay, okay,” Andrew patted my back, letting the hug last. “You did awesome.”

             
“Thank you,” I said wiping away a tear that had snuck out. I smiled, “You saved my life, again.”

             
Andrew laughed, “Add it to my tab.”

             
The rest of the hike was much easier, to my relief. We discovered old vineyards, olive fields still in use, unbelievable panoramic views, and rickety old bridges. At one point we stopped on an overpass filled with locks.

             
“Why are there so many locks here?” I asked. Without speaking, Andrew pulled me back, and I could see all of the locks together, forming the shape of a heart.

             
I could feel Andrew’s breath against my ear and the tingle of his fingers against my wrist as he spoke softly, “They’re love locks. Couples write their names on them and leave somewhere special they’ve been.”

“That’s kind of cool,” I said, f
eeling the cold, rusted metal between my fingers.

             
“Yeah, kind of cheesy if you ask me,” Megan piped in.

After taking a picture by the locks
despite Megan’s protests, we continued the last leg of our journey. Figuring the rest of our class wouldn’t miss us since they were so far behind, we took a table at a café and ordered some apperitivo drinks. We enjoyed the fresh mojitos, watching the bartenders concoct them from scratch. The appetizers served were delicious and food had never tasted so good. After a day of hiking and nothing but a few carrots and an apple to snack on, we were ravenous.

We ate so much food that
we agreed it was only polite to buy another round of drinks. Another batch of liquids led to another order of food, and before we knew it the sun had descended behind the ocean, and it was difficult to see much further than the patio of the bar.

Emilia
looked at her watch, “Don’t you think we should have seen them by now?”

“I would’ve thought,”
Andrew said. “What time was the train heading back?”

“Who the
heck cares,” Megan said. She was two drinks ahead of the rest of us.

“I think eight thirty,” I said. I wobbled in my chair as I bent over to look in my pack for the itinerary. The bubbles from that last glass of champagne made the words blur before my eyes. “Yep. That’s what it says.”

“Shit! We gotta go!”
Emilia jumped up.

“Shit!
Emilia just swore!” I said to Megan. The two of us doubled over in drunken laughter.

“It’s eight fifteen
, we need to leave,” Andrew said.

“And go where?” I gasped
. “Megan’s not done with her drink.”

Megan
reclined and put her feet up on the table.

“We need to catch that train,”
Emilia said, starting to seem a bit frantic.

Andrew
spoke over my head to Emilia, “We won’t be able to drag their drunk-asses all the way back in time. I think we are stuck here for tonight.”

“
You don’t think…” Emilia looked at her watch as a train pulled away from the station, the noises distinct in the distance. “I guess you’re right. Do we have to call the school or anything?”

“Nah, it’s Italy. They expect people to wander off. This a voluntary trip, so we didn’t have to
sign in or anything.”

“Happy Vacation!”
Megan raised a glass. We clinked drinks on the patio as it started to rain again. My outfit was beyond repair by this point, Megan’s shirt was see-through, and everyone’s hair was absolutely drenched. Megan opened her mouth to catch the rain drops, initiating another round of laugher for the two of us, until finally Emilia and Andrew joined in. The music from behind the bar picked up, and before I knew it, we were dancing like five-year-olds in the rain.

             
A short while later, we pulled it together and talked to the bar owner, who knew a cousin, who had a friend who’s cousin was the manager of a hostel. Against all odds, we were put in touch with the man who could help us out. The man explained he only had a honey moon suite to offer us, which we gladly accepted. We would’ve taken a barn if it’d had a roof. The best part of the deal was that the room was only seventeen Euros a night, a steal.

The owner lead us
three fourths of a mile up a winding back path, where he unlocked a stand-alone cottage, perched on the highest point of the mountain. There was a bed in the entry way room, strange placement, I thought, hoping for more promising sleeping arrangements in the main house. The bed in front of us had what looked like a burn mark in the middle of the comforter. It could’ve been something much grosser, but I didn’t want to take my chances looking any closer. We followed the man into the main room, which had a large bed in the center with a smaller couch at its foot. Along the wall were two bunk beds. Emilia opened the window to reveal a huge balcony spanning the width of the house. You could see all five of the colorful little towns, tucked between the lush green hills and the crashing black waves.

             
I admired the view from the window, and by the time I turned around, Emilia and Megan had laid claim on both of the bunks already. I looked at Andrew.

             
“I’m not taking the shit bed,” I said.

             
“Neither am I,” Andrew said.

             
“I’m in here.”

             
“Me too.”

             
I set my stuff purposefully on the bed, “You can have the foot stool.”

             
“Shut it, I was here first,” Andrew said.

             
“Guys, guys, sharing is caring,” Megan said from the top bunk.

             
“Do you think you can control yourself?” Andrew asked eying me.

             
“Oh, please.”

              The night passed smoothly with the exception Andrew yelling at me to put socks on in the middle of the night because my
freezing
feet were touching him. In the morning, the sun felt warm on my skin as we lounged outside sipping fresh coffee and gazing out at the smooth water. I lounged back in my chair, sinking into the cushy fabric.

             
“Life doesn’t get much better than this, huh?” I said.

             
“I’m considering getting married eight times, just so I can have eight honey moons here,” Megan said.

             
“That means you need to get eight people to agree to marry you.” I poured milk into my coffee.

             
“Well, I have at least three in front of me,” she said, patting our hands.

             
“Whoa, speak for yourself,” Andrew cautioned.

             
“Shut up,” Megan said.

             
“Let’s hike,” Emilia finished.

W
e hiked further into the hills than the day before, marveling at the ancient equipment still being used to harvest olives. We strolled through vineyards, perused the specialty shops in the towns, and feasted on fresh fruits, pastas, and meats from the local stores. As the sun sunk again, hours later, we headed back to the bar to order some drinks and dinner.