Page 77 of Better Than Gelato
“My two older sisters got married when they were twenty. One is unhappily married. The other is unhappily divorced and drowning her pain in alcohol with reckless abandon. I’m not interested in either of those paths.”
“Those aren’t the only options, you know,” Jake says.
“I know. Which is why I’ve always planned on doing things differently. Finishing college. Growing up. Taking the time to create a life for myself before I attach it to someone else’s.”
Jake nods. “That makes sense.” Pause. “I’m sorry about your sisters.”
I shrug. “I can’t do anything for them but learn from their mistakes.”
We meet up with the group and find the next part of the trail toward Corniglia. This section is twice as long as the last part, but the trail is still easy, and the time goes by fast. There are more vineyards here, and no matter how long I look out at the ocean, the view never stops dazzling me.
The town of Corniglia is filled with little shops and cobblestone streets.
Jake looks at me. “Gelato?” he says.
“Yep,” I say back.
“We’re going to find gelato,” he tells the group. “See you back here in twenty.”
We enjoy our gelato at a table in the shade. There are a few boats sailing off the shore, and we watch them quietly.
“You know how you don’t want to talk about what we’re going to do in June?” Jake says as we settle onto a bench.
He keeps trying to have terrible conversations about the future but so far, I’ve managed to avoid most of them.
“Yeah…”
“What if we talk about after-June?”
“After-June?” I ask.
“Yeah. Instead of working out all the logistics, if we do long distance, if one of us will relocate, let's assume we’ll find some way to make this work. We’re smart people, we’ll figure things out. So let's jump to five years from now. What should we name our sailboat?”
I can’t help smiling. “We have a sailboat five years from now?”
“I think we should. Don’t you?” His dimples are dimpling, and I lean over and kiss his cheek.
“I do,” I say. “And we could name it Straciatella.”
“Straciatella?” He looks unconvinced.
I hold up my straciatella flavored ice cream. “It’s a great name for a boat.”
“I think we should keep brainstorming,” he says.
We talk about pets, and by the time we meet up with the group we’ve agreed on two dogs and a cat, with the possibility of a python as long as Jake doesn’t have to feed it.
The next section of the trail is closed due to a mudslide, so we go by train to the next village. We rest our legs and enjoy the view. We eat lunch in Vernazza and afterward, Paolo and Valentina offer to check at the tourist booth to see if the last section of the trail is open. Diego and Carmen rest in the shade.
“We’re going to find some gelato,” Jake says. “We’ll meet everyone at the main piazza.”
Paolo narrows his eyes. “Is gelato code for something else?” he asks.
“We wouldn’t tell if it was,” I say.
But really, we just love gelato. And the stuff they make here is especially delicious. I choose hazelnut and Jake goes with lemon cream.
The last stretch of the trail, Vernazza to Monterosso, is harder than the first two. There are steep stairs and twisting switch backs. It takes us about an hour and a half, and we’re all drenched in sweat by the time we finish. Diego flops down on a bench as soon as we make it into town.
