Brando went to take my hand, but realizing he couldn’t, sighed. His hands were wrapped like a prizefighter’s, tape around each knuckle. Uncle Tito hadn't gone easy on him either. I heard Brando growling when the old doctor cleaned them.
“Do not even think about it,” Uncle Tito warned, catching him eyeing the bandages with irritation. “I will put a collar around your neck and tie your hands behind your back like ananimale!”
“Where are we going?” I asked for the hundredth time—at least. I was tired and sore, and I just wanted to know.
“Below the surface,” Brando answered for the hundredth time.
“Hmph.” I fiddled with the belt around my denim dress. The fabric hung loosely to my frame, nothing to hold on to. Violet and Eunice had convinced me to wear it. I didn’t feel comfortable anymore, not unless I was in pajamas. Although I had gotten caught up in the whirlwind, exhaustion hit me hard, and I wanted nothing more than the comfort of our bed.
“You look beautiful, baby,” Brando said, patting my head with his bandaged hand. “I haven’t seen you in anything but pajamas in four months.”
For some reason, this struck me as funny. I didn’t outright laugh, but it made me smile. I think it was because his swaddled-up hand reminded me of a rabbit’s foot, and he thumped me on the head like I was simple with it.
His eyes turned serious before he blinked, and they softened some. “Do that again,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Smile.”
“If you keep thumping me, I won’t have to purposely do it.”
“Ah,” he said, stopping the motion.
I smiled regardless.
“The water will heal us,” he said in Italian and then grinned.
I pondered this clue all the way to Los Angeles—even dreamt about it when sleep came—where we checked into a hotel, just to turn around and leave and take another private plane (not my father’s and using aliases) to some mysterious destination.
We flew over water as far as the eye could see. Uncle Tito and Aunt Lola retired to the bedroom—neither Brando nor I was tired, and even if we were, they both looked haggard from the last flight. It was bright outside, but with all the shutters closed, it was dim in the cabin.
The plane hit turbulence. Instead of jarring Brando, it seemed to rock him into relaxation. Very little intimidated him. His eyes opened and closed with the motion, his thick black lashes fanning out over the dark shadows beneath his eyes. He hadn’t lost his muscular form, but he was much too thin himself. His cheekbones were more pronounced, his nose sharper. Earlier, when he had changed his shirt, his stomach was much thinner, the arch of his ribs tight against his bronze skin.
“Are you afraid, Ballerina Girl?” he said through a thick fog of exhaustion.
“Not when I’m with you. This plane could go down and I’d be right where I was meant to be—beside you.Dove vai tu vado anche io.”Where you go, I go.
He nodded and became quiet. I realized that his eyes were closed, but he wasn’t really sleeping. He had done this since we left. He seemed to be stuck in some kind of REM limbo.
The plane shimmied as I stood. I steadied myself before I went to him. I grabbed the blanket that I had been using and set it over his chest. Music drifted from the one bud plugged in his ear. I took the free one, listening.
He listened to my music. Searching through hundreds of songs, I finally came to the one I wanted. Sade’s “By Your Side.”
Before I could turn back to my seat, he stopped me. “With me,” he said, nodding to his lap. “And take your sandals off. I’d do it, but—” he held up his hands.
After I unfastened my sandals, I curled against him, my hand resting on his neck, my thumb against his iron jaw, stroking. “Get some sleep,” I whispered.
“I can’t sleep when you’re not beside me.”
“Ooh,” I said. “Not true. You sleep when you’re offshore.”
“Not much and not good.” He pulled me closer and settled me more comfortably against him. “That’s why I’m so tired when I get home. And when you’re close enough to share the same bed, it’s hard to do without you.”
My heart gave a little burst. The feeling felt so foreign yet so familiar—it was the beat of my own heart.
Ten hours in, the sun started to set, but before night claimed the sky and the galaxy came out to play, I started to recognize the landscape. Dark blue waters melted into crystal blue the closer it came to shore. Jungles of emerald forests hugged the fringes of shadowed mountains. Interspersed waterways made odd shapes through the canvas.
An hour and a half later, we landed in Nadi, Fiji.
