Notoriously Beautiful

8

The Beach

It's so nice that the beach is within walking distance. In New York I had to drive almost an hour when I wanted to go to the beach, and it wasn't even a nice beach. Here, I can walk a little less than 10 minutes and I'm in paradise.
It's 1:50PM, and I start to walk to the beach. I don't even have Marco's phone number. I'm a little upset actually because maybe I won't be able to spot him at the beach. Maybe Marco thought about that beforehand. My sandals finally hit sand. I look around, I can't tell who is who, because I can't examine every person's face on the beach.
All I see is a little figure near the water holding up a sign. From where I am I can't read the sign. I get closer and closer to the water I finally read,
"We are here bella" written in black sharpie marker. I looked to see who was holding the sign. It's not Marco, it has to be Tommaso.
I keep walking towards the sign, I look around the man holding it to see if I could find Marco.
I find him. He was holding up the American flag, how funny (it's really not that funny). I sigh and shake my head, laughing to myself.
I wave, even though I see them, I know they haven't spotted me yet. They are still looking around the beach for me, turning their necks and bodies around in circles.
I am walking rather slowly, to get to them. I'm not used to the heat, I'm breathing heavily. I get to them, finally!
"Marco" I say.
I watch as three men turn around. I laugh, there really are a lot of Marco's. One of those men is Marco.
"Ciao, Katerina!" Marco says.
"Oh, this is Katerina," Tommaso says, lifting his eyebrows up and down, and elbowing Marco in his side.
"In the flesh," I said. Marco doesn't understand that expression at all. He looks at me puzzled and I just smile.
"I never asked you how you learned English," I say to Marco.
Tommaso answers the question for him, as he stands in front of him.
"He learned in high school, and continued in his two years of college," he says.
Marco pushes Tommaso out of the way.
"All true. I also practice with this guy," he points to Tomasso.
Tommaso looked younger than Marco, maybe even a little younger than me. He was not muscular like Marco, and he wasn't tan like him either. When I thought about it a little more, he didn't even have much of an accent.
"Are you from Sicily?" I ask Tommaso.
He laughs,
"I guess I'm not," he says.
"Well..." I say.
"I moved here when I was thirteen years old." he says, laughing awkwardly.
"His father came here to be a soccer player. Well he went to Northern Italy and left his annoying son here in Sicily. Now the old man is retired," he says waving his hands in the air.
They seem as if they have known each other forever. I could tell they are really good friends. Just by the glances they give each other, how they play around with each other. I have to admit though, I'm not feeling like the odd ball out. I don't tell them about my nonexistent father figure, and I don't tell them my other life tragedies. Marco already knows my nonna passed. There's no need to mention any sad things on a happy, sunny day.
"What's your story," Marco asks.
"All I want is to be happy, I guess I'm trying to find that here," I say. It feels like I just let go of a heavy secret burden, I don't know why.
I tell them about how beautiful New York was. I tell them stories of crazy things that had happened to me in the city. I tell them how it's different in Sicily. Better in a way, but still New York was my home, once upon a time. If I didn't know any better I would think Tommaso is trying to impress me. Marco looks like he's getting mad. I feel like laughing but I keep it in.
We go into the water, I feel Marco touch my leg. I look up at him, but he seems like he didn't do it on purpose. I'm not sure if he did. I see Simona walking towards us. It's already 3:30pm, wow. I feel like I finally found my place in the universe. Here and now, to live, to learn and to grow.
In the end, all I'll have are memories, when I'm old and frail, unable to go to the beach, I'll think back to this time. What a great day it's been. I know I'm young but at the beach, I feel like a kid. Me and Simona verse the boys at a game of beach volleyball, even though they won (by a lot), we count it as a tie.
We just relax in the water and learn more about each other. I learn that Marco is not actually a taxi driver, I know it's weird. He was actually just using his friend's taxi for a week because his friend broke his arm or something. So he doesn't even have a license to be a taxi driver. I'm not sure how illegal that is. I laugh when he tells me this convoluted story. Before I know it, it's 5:00 and we all decide it's a good time to head home.
"We should do this again," Simona says, in Italian.
"We should," Marco says looking at me.
I had a lot of fun, but I have sand all over me, I'm not used to it. It kind of itches.
"I would love to," I say.
"Hey guys, I have a silly question, tomorrow I'm harvesting olives with my family, would all of you like to come," Tomasso said, in Italian, I realize that he doesn't talk with a perfect Italian accent. There's something small that I can tell is there. A little American accent maybe? Just slightly though.
I look to Simona to see if she wants to.
"Well I close the shop at 3:30, I don't know what time you are going to do it?" Simona asks.
For some reason at the moment I realized that they were not all speaking in English. It was kind of a back and forth between languages. I guess it's because they didn't want to be rude, they think I can't speak Italian perfectly, which is only slightly true. I didn't say anything though, I much rather speak in English, even if I'm in Sicily. They all learn English in school here.

"I'll come, it sounds like fun, I've never done that before," I say.
I can tell that Marco is anxiously waiting to hear if I am coming because the second I say yes, he says he's coming too.