Sex and Vanity

“No, unfortunately the bees have to sacrifice themselves for your healing. And you don’t get stung—they remove the stingers from the bees and just brush them lightly against your skin, to stimulate an immune response. That’s all it takes. I always do a ceremony for the bees after I have a session. I think that’s very important to honor their gift. I’m an empath, you see. I do energy healing work, so I am very sensitive to all animals, to the land, to places. Like this villa, for example. It has terrible energy.”

“Really, you can sense it?” Lucie asked, genuinely curious.

“Absolutely. Look at my arms! All these goose bumps! If it weren’t for you nice people distracting me right now, I would be miserable here. I would have cramps and be in the toilet making nonstop diarrhea.”

“Oh my. I’m glad we’re here for you,” Lucie said, trying her hardest not to giggle.

“What is it about this house that creates the bad energy for you? Is it because of how it’s sited on the land?” George probed.

Petra stared at George and Lucie in surprise. “Ja, the feng shui is very unfortunate, but that’s not the only reason. You don’t know the story? The owner died here. Jacques Fersen. I can sense his spirit in the house, even among us right now, and he is very restless.”

Lucie looked at her dubiously. “Really?”

Petra took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. “Ja, Fersen was a French baron.*3 He was very handsome and rich, but he got kicked out of Paris because he was having affairs with all the scions of the French aristocracy. It was a big scandal, because these were the sons of top politicians and noblemen. So they wanted to throw him in jail, but instead he fled to Rome. There he fell in love with another schoolboy, Nino, and he brought Nino here to this island, where they built this villa and threw the most amazing drug parties. If you go downstairs, there’s a sunken opium den where Fersen and Nino would get high and have orgies with the most famous artists and writers of their day.”

“Really?” George remarked.

“Ja, this place was like the Studio 54 of Capri in its day.”

Lucie wasn’t sure whether to believe this woman, but she was fascinated all the same. “So how did Fersen die?”

“They say it was suicide, that he drank a lethal cocktail of champagne and cocaine in his opium den. But you know, I don’t believe that. His spirit is telling me that he wouldn’t kill himself like that.”

Lucie and George contemplated her words for a moment, and when George looked up, he saw his mother waving at him from a few tables down, trying to get his attention. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, getting up from the table.

Lucie smiled at Petra, deciding that she liked this girl in spite of her strange stories and all her talk of spirits. Petra returned Lucie’s smile and said, “You know there’s a full moon tonight. Anything can happen. I’m so glad I changed the place cards for us.”

Lucie’s jaw dropped. “You changed the place cards?”

“Yes. I was staring at the seating chart up at Villa Jovis, and the name card beside us said ‘Joshua,’ and I thought, No, no, that’s not right. There isn’t supposed to be a Joshua sitting between me and you. The energy is all wrong. So I looked around and something made me pick up George’s card. And when I placed the card next to us, I could feel the flow. I thought, Lucie and George and Petra. We three were meant to be together tonight.”

Lucie looked at her with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

Petra caught her look and gave a throaty laugh. “I hope you didn’t think I meant a three-way! No, thank you, I’m not into three-ways. I did it for you and George.”

“I’m not sure why,” Lucie said stiffly.

“Oh, come on. The chemistry between you two is crazy. All my chakras are opening just thinking of you two!”

“But I don’t really know him.”

Petra laughed again and shook her head. “You two have known each other over many lifetimes. You just don’t realize it yet.”

* * *

…

You two have known each other over many lifetimes. The words echoed in Lucie’s mind all through the five-course dinner, the toasts made by various Chius and De Vecchis, the cutting of the wedding cake, the handing out of bomboniere, and Isabel’s first dance with Dolfi while some guy named Eros*4 serenaded them and all the Italians went nuts, and even now, as she wandered the grounds of Villa Jovis, Lucie couldn’t shake off Petra’s words no matter how hard she tried.

Isabel and Dolfi had invited their closest friends to the wedding after-party back up at Villa Jovis, where the palace’s ruins had been luxuriously outfitted with velvet ottomans and sofas, fur throws, and painted silk lanterns. This being Italy, everyone lingering about the villa’s grand chamber seemed to be smoking either cigarettes or joints, and Lucie opted to get some fresh air instead. Besides, George hadn’t paid her any attention since dinner, and now he seemed all too happy to be curled up in the corner, deep in conversation with Daniella and Sophie.

Taking the lit pathway around the side of the palace’s outer wall, Lucie walked by Tiberius’s Leap again and spotted a glowing stairway that she hadn’t noticed earlier in the day. Curious, she went down the steps and through a heavy rusted metal door and discovered a narrow candlelit chamber. The chamber was built into the cliffside, its ceiling eroded away by time and open to the stars. A seating area had been carved out of the rocks, and at the far end, a small window faced the sea.

Lucie went up and peered out at the view. The waters looked almost phosphorescent tonight under the gigantic moon, and Lucie wished she could go swimming in the moonlight. She wondered what it must be like inside the fabled Blue Grotto durin

g a full moon, and she decided that no matter what happened, she had to see the grotto tomorrow. It would be their last day on Capri.

She suddenly realized how silly she had been, nursing this strange fascination with George, when after tomorrow she would in all likelihood never see him again. Petra was dead wrong—George had no interest in her; he had made it abundantly clear all week long. She was the one who fainted in the square, she was the one who slobbered like a little girl on his shoulder, she was the one who had thrown herself at him in Positano.