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“Move over,” I said as I climbed into the top bunk next to mine.

We’d been avoiding sleep all evening. I pretended to read. Finn interrupted to chat. Eventually we drifted off, but before long the chorus of snoring in our 12-bunk hostel dorm in Sorrento woke me up.

I turned onto my right side and made eye contact with Finn in bed. He was awake too. I reached across to him, and he traced small circles around the top of my hand with his finger. That’s when I got in bed with him.

In my effort to indicate interest earlier that night, I’d asked him to tell me the story of his tattoos. There was the drawing of the rivers and mountains in New Zealand on his chest that he hated, the goddess covering his left upper arm, the pair of sparrows on his left forearm, the symbols next to them that meant family. My favorite was the butterfly on his thigh.

“At my mom’s house on the beach in Wellington, where I grew up, there were loads of butterflies, so this is for that,” he said as he grazed his hand over the tattoo. It was his favorite too.

“When my mom passes, I’ll get another butterfly next to it for her,” he said.
“Do you have any tattoos?”

“No. The only reason I’d ever get a tattoo is for my mom. She draws hearts with a little loop at the bottom, so if I ever got something it would be one of those for her. Maybe me, her and my sister could all match.”

“No reason to ruin a good thing,” he smirked.

“She’s super tatted. She’s got a koi fish on her back surrounded by coral gabels and waves. Peonies sprout up from the coral to her shoulder blades.”

He went on to explain the significance of his silver jewelry, landing on the small ring with a koi fish on it.

“This is my koi. I’ve said to myself that when I meet the love of my life, she’ll have a koi to match mine.”

I twiddled the fish on the blue chord around my neck in my fingers.

In his hostel bed we kissed. I still had my retainer in; I wondered if he noticed, or if he just didn’t care. Later I asked him if he knew, and he said he did because he could feel the ridges on his tongue.

His nose piercing caught mine. We stopped kissing.

“You should probably go back to your bed now,” he said. I smiled in agreement.

My ferry for Capri left early in the morning. I was going to meet my friend for lunch before catching a connecting ferry to Ischia that evening. I woke him up to kiss him goodbye.

“Are you coming with me?” I said.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Goodbye, lovely.”

I grabbed his foot on my way out the door. I’d startled him. I covered my mouth so as not to laugh out loud when I saw his body twitch.

Before I left Capri, I’d convinced him to meet me in Ischia.

_—

“Come here my love.” He put my hand in his as we walked down the hill in Maronti to find a spot to eat dinner. It was my second night on the island. We’d agreed to stay on the opposite side to my hostel in Forio, so we could explore some new beaches.

When we stopped at a lookout point to take some pictures of the pastel sky in the fading light, he pulled me in to his chest and wrapped both arms around my neck. I saw our light blue eyes on my phone screen. I saw his tattoos and his scruffy blonde hair and his mustache. I saw myself happy. He offered to take the selfie. My arms weren’t long enough to capture the moment. He kissed my neck. The iPhone camera clicked.

I wasn’t sure if it was a bit, or if it was for real, but I didn’t care. I was just glad to be with him.

I laughed all night long. I didn’t shy away from saying anything that was on my mind. My thoughts flew out, unfettered.

We slept in and followed the winding path down to the beach at Maronti. The beach had a long wingspan, extending for over a mile from one rock face to the famous Banana Beach on the other side.

A local woman was selling jewelry near the entrance. I picked out a couple pairs of earrings.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“These ones,” He said. He pulled the turquoise heart shaped stones.

“How much?” I asked the woman.

“10 euros,” she said. “Only cash.”

“I only have 8,” I said. She shook her head. Finn looked through his wallet. He didn’t have anything. She wouldn’t do 8.

We walked off to find an ATM.

“I actually do have the cash, I was just trying to see if she would let you buy them for less,” he said when we were around the bend and out of sight from the jewelry stand. He put 5 euros into my palm.

I took 3 back and gave the woman his 5. We walked down to the beach. Maronti was covered in grey rocks and colorful umbrellas. The water was crystal clear, a deeper blue than my earrings. We swam in the sea and shared cigarettes and sour candy under the boardwalk before noon.

—

Our 20-minute walk to Banana Beach quickly turned into an hour-long hike. We’d decided to change locations for lunch. Finn’s map had taken us on a path that appeared to be nonexistent as we made our way up the rock face. We bush-wacked into someone’s yard to proceed to the route. I was hiking in a bikini and flip flops. The tall grass and weeds scratched my butt. My shins bled.

We cut through their yard to the makeshift fence at the back, facing the road we needed to follow to get to Banana Beach. It looked as if the path had been deliberately closed off, the barbed wire and sheets of metal finagled such that tourists like us couldn’t get through.

I came up to the fence first and looked through the hole in the wire down to the road. It was about 10 feet—the drop down. And the road itself was slanted, unstable. Rocks scattered the dusty ground. There was a large divot between the left and right sides of the street.

“I can do it if you go first,” I said.

Finn threw his backpack through the hole in the fence to prepare to make the jump. He climbed up onto the ledge of the metal sheet, wobbling under his feet. When he made the landing, dust flew to his sides. A few rocks scattered. He’d arrived on his feet, but awkwardly. His heel writhed in pain.

I knew then that I was right, I wouldn’t have been able to make the jump. I adjusted my approach after watching him. I handed him my things and threw my shoes onto the street so I could grip with my toes. When I grazed the metal sheet with my foot, it pinged back and forth, so it would have to be the other way.

Making myself into a ball, I could just fit through the hole in the fence. Finn pulled me through the hole and into his arms.

“How’s your heel?” I said. “That looked bad.”

“I think it’s broken.”

When we got to Banana Beach I gave him some Tylenol from my purse. I was glad we had each other.

The afternoon we’d spent there was supposed to be the last time we’d see each other. While he walked off in search of a taxi, I drew out the path of our travels on the map I’d taken from the hostel. Sorrento to Capri. Capri to Ischia Port. Ischia Port to Maronti. Maronti to Banana Beach. I circled the spot where he ate shit on the hike.

“Can’t wait for our next adventure,” I wrote on the map. I signed it with a heart. I pulled out my bag of treasures and found a small flat stone. I drew a small fish on it with my pen. I put them both in his palm.

He left for Amalfi. Finn’s foot never healed.

—

We couldn’t stop talking, and when I realized I’d forgotten to book a place to stay the night of the 30^th, that my ferry for Sicily left Naples on the evening of the 1^st, I’d decided it only made sense for me to go see him this time.

Laying on his chest on the damp rocks in the shade at Firore Fjord, I cried.

“I’m so sad to leave you,” I said. “I think I’m falling in love with you a little bit.”

He rubbed my back. “You may feel like you’re falling in love with me, but you’re not. It hasn’t been long enough. And you don’t need me.”

I nodded. “You’re right, it’s just my attachment system being activated. My fear of being left.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I don’t need you, but I do want you,” I said.

“I want you too.” “If you would just shut the fuck up I’d put a ring on it,” he said under his breath.

“What was that?” I said. He knew I’d heard him.

—

We swam and played in the rocks the rest of the day at various beaches, taking matching Instagram pictures in Positano and at the beach in Amalfi. I belly laughed when he tried to direct me to take pictures as he desired. He said I was doing a “horrible” job as his photographer, but now the photos are all over his Instagram and mine.

As the sun set, we sat side by side and looked out at the water at Amalfi port.

“I like you. Do you like me?”

“What do you mean by like?” He asked.

“This is more than just sex right?”

“Yes, of course. If it wasn’t I wouldn’t be spending multiple days with you.”

“I wish you could be my boyfriend, but you live so far away.”

“I’m not trying to be in a relationship with someone who lives on the other side of the world, I broke up with a girl because she lived in the south of the Netherlands.” He is a self described jet-setter, currently living and working in Amsterdam.

“I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone on the other side of the world either.”

“Well, then we don’t have to worry about that now.”

We went for a final swim. He dove down and grabbed a rock.

“This heart shaped rock is for you,” he said.

“Are you fucking with me?”

“No, this is for you, for your rock collection.”

—

For our final dinner we went all out: pasta and bread and Aperol and beer and a grilled fish and a lemon flavored tiramisu for dessert.

“If we’re going to have a nice dinner, then might as well have a nice dinner,” he said.

“My kinda guy,” I said. We were sitting corner to corner. He put his hand on mine.

When our server brought over limoncello shots I was already too drunk off Aperol, but Finn told me I had to, so I swallowed the shot, for him. When we got back to the hotel room we had drunk sex and giggled our way to sleep.

Finn grabbed my neck and whispered in my ear when we hugged goodbye on the beach the following morning. I handed him the gift I’d picked up for him in Ischia, a small ceramic magnet with a butterfly on it.

“For my butterfly boy,” the note I taped to the waxy paper gift bag said. “I’m so glad I got out my net.”

I didn’t have service on my overnight ferry from Naples to Palermo; I missed talking to him. More than I anticipated.

I called my mom when I arrived in Sicily just to tell her how much I missed him, that I was sad. When I said the words it brought tears to my eyes.

“I’m sorry, babe” she said.

—

Whatsapp

Thursday, July 2nd

I efffing miss u boo 🦋

Wish I was yapping ur ear of

Wish I was disassociating your talking x

Earlier I was staring longingly

out a bus window thinking of u

I’m off to Pogliano e mare tomorrow.

Lit fam.

That is lit.

Ur gonna love it

Jelly

You should be jelly

Always jelly tho

Gonna kick down any ladies that try

to scoop u up on that beach

Nah let them scoop me

You left me I need to find a new bae

Never forget I’m irreplaceable

I’m extremely annoying

Gonna chase u around the world if I have to

The two things I want in a girl 😍

Where’s my ring 💍

Nowhere to be seen

All I have is this stupid rock

You’re so stingy

You need to do a lot more

Than that to get me forever

U have a wife I knew it

No. You’ll just never see this face again.

Don’t even fucking say that.

Some could say it’s a pretty strong reality

I don’t want it to be a reality

so I’m not gonna let it

You live in New York, I live on the other side

of the world.

Yeah but whatever

I broke up with a girl because she lived

in the south of the Netherlands haha

I know

But life is long

And who knows where I’ll be next May

🩵

I’m just trying to keep expectations

realistic here

I knowwwwww

Okay Okay

Hahaha

I’m not planning on letting you go

unless I have to

Okay darling that’s fine

Make me feel better asshole

Keep going

I’m sorry darling xx

We will live happily ever after

Exactly

Positive vibes

Say you’ll come see meeee

Say you’ll chase meee around the world

U mother fucking cunt

Give me something to hold onto

If you hold onto your bunny too tight

you’ll strangle it

But yes we will see each other again

And I’m excited at that prospect

Good

I’m ready for round two

Of my Parade

You mean my photoshoot

No My parade in Matera

u + me = <3

For the religious festival

okay butterfly boy enjoy

Can’t wait to fly with you

🦋 🩵

The writer in me is cringing at that

hard

but felt 🫶

Friday, July 3rd

Would you live in Barcelona?

(Trying not to strangle my bunny)

Even better, if you catch a butterfly with

your hands but squeeze too tight you’ll crush it.

Wait that is going in the essay

Good job

Barcelona would be my most likely city

I’d live in for Spain

But I am a Real Madrid supporter hahah

HAHAH lovely

If I leave New York I’d be moving to Spain

bc I have really good Spanish

I was nearly fluent

just before graduating high school

but haven’t practiced

And it’s always been my dream to live

in a Spanish speaking country for that reason

Okay nice, yeah tbh I wouldn’t leave the NL

for at least another year probably two

Then we have plenty of time

to see if this is for real

For sure

Sunday, July 5th

Us in 20 years hahaha

I touched the turquoise hearts hanging from

my ears.

Butterfly Boy

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