Love in Portofino

A Short Story

It was me who saw him first. It took only seconds for him to recognize me, too. Looking deeply into my eyes on his way to the breakfast buffet, I did not look that intensely. For me, it was quite easy to watch him straightforwardly, but he had to turn his head to the left and be cautious about the steps from the terrace to the hotel building. He could easily fall down.

The legendary Joe Zawinul was playing in the background. My dark hair in waves was covering my shoulders, I had almost no makeup on, and my brown eyes were tired, but curious.

I followed him toward the buffet, moving my body as if dancing on the parquet. It seemed to be destiny that he stood with his back toward me while looking at the sweet Italian bakery, and I was longing for some fruits.

Before I could get a better look at his face and eyes, I already heard his voice—a deep one, asking another female hotel guest, much older than him, much, much older, 'How are you?' And then saying, without raising his head, staring at the buffet, 'Good, good, I am also good.' I could hear how tired he was, understanding that he was not convincing the woman, but himself with his words. His accent was almost perfect, more American than British English, but I was sure this was not his native language. He looked Middle Eastern. He had a white T-shirt on with black shorts. And his bag was crossed over his body. He is tall. Very, very tall. I could swear that he felt or at least saw me as I stood behind him, grabbing pineapple and watermelon, the final pieces of my early breakfast.

Today, I was not dressed in a mini skirt, but in black trousers and an oversized T-shirt in cream. There was no hint of skin that could take the attention away from me.

He sat opposite me. I do not know if this was on purpose so he could see me because there was another chair free. Or if this was a kind of God’s will, or the universe.

Infinity is home in Portofino. The deep green trees safeguard the mountains that let their gaze wander over the ocean. The feeling of luxury from the Dolce & Gabbana boutique levitates you. It seems there is no end of hazelnut ice cream, and the Anglicized taste of grilled swordfish medallion in pistachio crust fills you up with joy.

I was asking myself questions about him: Who is he? Does he have a girlfriend? Why is he here, sitting in a romantic hotel in Portofino with two male friends? Why isn’t he partying at Paradise Beach in Mykonos with escorts?

And while I was watching the yellow-beige facade with the green windows of the Italian hotel reminding me of Schönbrunn, my thoughts turn to the man who is not here, not here with me. And I was asking myself if the stitches inside me are rooted in my head. Is he in my head, not leaving me alone in this divine place?

Does he also feel the same way when meeting someone who could take you off this hell and heaven? Not knowing if he is just in my head or already in some place in my heart, blocking all the way for anybody but him. Or is this me, in my head, calling his face, calling his voice, calling the possibilities that slipped out of our hands—again and again? We destroyed ourselves together, piece by piece, with every new game, with every step, unsure if we were trying to move toward each other or pushing ourselves away.

Does he feel the same way, looking at a beautiful girl and feeling a pain, cold, hard, shaking his body, reminding him that this girl is not me? Does he feel stitches too? Or is it just in his head?

I did not believe his words; it was not that I did not want to, but I just could not. All the compliments, I do not long for them; I know how sentences like 'You are perfect, you are beautiful, you are intelligent' sound—they are like leaves in the wind, touching me with such tenderness, but for sure flying away. I just saw the cold winter coming, could not recognize the cheerful summer before. It was my fault. I know. And I knew, that the closer I came to him, the closer I wanted to be...

But it seemed to be that he was not just clear, all the hints made me so excited that it turned into fear. The fear that I misunderstood everything, that I would be chased out of heaven.

So many times, I did not know what to do. Too many times I decided to turn away from him, but was never aware that I wounded him one by one. Injured my heart, too. And then desperately looking around for a healer. But nobody was there. And I sank just deeper into my pain.

I thought I already knew the story, that there would never be any kind of our story. That this is only a game, and a game, that I can only lose. It seemed for me, that were rules, but unfair ones.

Here, in Portofino, I found the possibility of beauty, of endlessness, of certainty, of trust, of strength, of the sun after every thunderstorm. Here, in Portofino, I found love.

I came closer to the guy sitting on the terrace. He looked at me, curious if I would dare to take a step toward him. I turned to the waiter, Sofia, a pretty Italian woman with long dark hair, thanking her for her kindness during my stay. I felt welcomed, I felt safe, I felt beloved. Here in Portofino. But I was only telling her: 'I am leaving today.' Leaving my uncertainty behind, my fears here. And taking love, hope, and infinity with me - what I have found here, in Portofino.

Artwork: Elif H.

Photos: Cigdem Toprak