“How did you find me?” I said, looking up at him.
It took a minute for him to right me. When he did, he set me straight but did not let go. “Walk with me, Alcina.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. I thought I would never see him again. I thought he was gone for good. The relief I felt was both physical and internal, much deeper than anything I had ever felt before.
I turned to set the basket down, but my sister took it instead. “Today, and for much less,” she whispered to me in Sicilian, and then went back into thecasa.
Corrado and I walked next to each other in silence. It took about ten minutes or so to leave this part of the land and head toward the main property, where the manicured grove was. The place where we had our last conversation.
“You were gone,” I whispered, looking at him from the side of my eye.
He nodded but said nothing else.
“Have you come to say goodbye?” I asked.
He stopped walking and so did I. That’s when I noticed two bikes sitting side by side.
“You can ride?”
“Sì,” I breathed out. “Of course.”
“Let’s go.”
My sister’s voice echoed inside my head.Today, Alcina.
“Where are we going?” I smiled.
“Wherever you want to go.”
I nodded, and after we both took our seats, we started peddling toward the exit of the property. The two men Corrado brought with him came with us. The Italian stayed in front, peddling a bike with a side seat for Uncle Tito. Corrado wanted to laugh but didn’t. The chipmunk always lagged in the back. It took us longer to get to the city because he had to keep stopping.
Once we did, he demanded food. We ate in thepiazza, and I tried not to laugh when he stuffed his puffy cheeks with pizza. When he caught me staring, his grin came slow, and so did mine.
We decided to visitMuseo del Carretto Siciliano, or Museum of the Sicilian Cart. It did not matter where we went. It felt good to spend time with him, to be free for the day.
“Carretto da Gara,” I pointed at an exceptionally beautiful one. It showcased how the cart and horse were dressed up for a special occasion.“Those are used for parties or weddings. The others.Carretto da Lavoro.Those are used for work.”
“My grandparents were married in Sicily,” Corrado said. “They had a cart and horse after they were married.”
I nodded. “They are traditional. Tell me more about your people.”
He did, but it wasn’t much. It was as if he was reciting stats from a page instead of speaking of hisfamiglia.He spoke nothing of hismammaor hispapà. He spoke of hisnonnoandnonna, but it was brief, and it felt…not as warm as afamigliashould be.
“Tell me something,scorpione,” I said after we left the museum and he bought me gelato. “Your marriage is to be arranged. Why is Uncle Tito doing it?”
“Silvio and I were both groomed to take over the family if something happened to my grandfather. I did a thing that put me in a tough spot before I left. My grandfather and my uncle wanted to teach me boundaries. Or whatever the fuck the lesson is.” He looked around for a second, thinking or checking our surroundings. There were a lot of people out. “The family is mine, under one condition.”
“Ah,” I said, licking my lips. “Marriage.”
“My grandfather gave the responsibility to Tito after I got here.”
“You did not want to choose for yourself?”
“Not particularly.”
I thought about this on the ride back to my sister and her husband’s place. I demanded to live for such a choice, but he gave his away for nothing.
“Did your grandfather take your choice away?” I said as I stepped off the bike. His arms came around my waist and I looked up at him. The lowering sun hit his amber eyes like candlelight. In this light, they were a much lighter shade than his skin.
