I smiled again because he was being totally serious. “I never gave up anything for you,” I said. “It’s the opposite way around. The merman gives up his tail for the lonely dancing girl on shore.”
“Sometimes I wonder if we live in separate worlds that are somehow connected by a thin line, and occasionally we meet in the middle, the only place we can see each other as we truly are.”
“That was extremely poetic, nephew,” Uncle Tito said, eyes as large as saucers, glasses reflecting the scene around us. “I didn’t know you had it in you. Marzio used to write poetry for Grazia.”
A poetry-writing mobster…how unusual thefamigliawas.
My eyes were drawn to a school of pewter fish, scales glinting like silver chains in the glow of rays piercing the surface. Their limbless figures and swishing tails created a vortex, spinning higher and higher toward the surface. Or was it just an illusion?
Brando pulled me toward him, right into his side, as we followed our host to our room. The long hallway reminded me of going below deck in a ship. Each suite had a galley door with a porthole in place of a peephole. Once through, we bypassed a small sitting room separating the galley entrance from our room. Another door closed to that one.
I paid no attention to Brando and our host. Our room was fine enough, with a sunk-in hot tub to the left, a bed in the center, and a bathroom to the right. I got the impression it was all there for backdrop.
The view held me captive.
The furthest destination of the room was circular, our own submerged, floating balcony beneath the sea, bubbling out close enough to a vast expanse of coral reef garden—a man-made remake of the Cakaulevu Reef? Clown fish played in the reef’s bed like worms would play in a garden of wind-blown roses. Other bright species darted to and fro, as though they were on the hunt for something, or perhaps playing along in some aquatic game.
I plopped down on one of the velvet sofas, losing my breath. Then I stood again, my head going giddy from the up and down.
“Brando!” I breathed, pointing above, a clear view straight to the surface. It was then that I realized we were all alone, and he watched too.
A pod of spinner dolphins were huddled together, swimming by, momentarily disturbing the smaller fish. One of them broke free and came close to the translucent walls, nosing around. Her folk stopped with her, exploring other areas.
“Oh, hello.” I laughed, enchanted. I took quiet steps forward, feeling as though I was in the aquarium and she was the tapper on the glass. She seemed to smile with slanted, lively eyes, her sinewy body in constant undulation. I couldn’t tell if she could see me or not, but she seemed to sense something. She twisted and then used her tail as a propeller before she went up, up, up, and then cracked the surface, gliding back in as though she were oiled.
Putting on a show for the gawkers. I smiled, resting my hand on the glass.
Her pod followed and they set off, similar waves being made by more spins in and out of the water. Warm tears slipped down my cheeks. I hastily wiped them away, not wanting Brando to see. I was overwhelmed by her peaceful presence—a welcoming, trusting thing that made me feel safe in the midst of a foreign world.
“Brando, how did you ever find this place?”
Turning to him, I found that he was in a similar state of admiration. Thiswashis world, and the call was easy to hear through our silence.
“Dario,” he said finally, our eyes meeting briefly. “One of his friends helped design this place. He told me about it a while back. I thought of taking you before, maybe on vacation. But—” He shrugged. “Now was the right time.”
Silence grew thick between us. I moved past him, going for my luggage. “Should I dress for dinner?” I bent down to unzip the small carry-on. “I didn’t bring much, but it seems pretty casual here. Or are we going to explore?”
The look he gave me made me stand up, a thin top dangling from my fingers.
“Scarlett, I—” He seemed choked. “I didn’t bring you here for vacation. I want you to enjoy yourself—fuc—” He stopped the word mid-escape and ran a bandaged hand over his hair, which didn’t help. “Give me a minute to set my head on straight.”
He took a few minutes.
“There’s no other way to say it. I didn’t bring you here on vacation. I want you to relax, to find peace, but we’re not leaving this room until it’s time to leave for our next stop.”
Relaxing the pressure on the thin top, I nodded. Relief flooded through me. I didn’t feel like doing anything either. But guilt also came with it. Uncle Tito and Aunt Lola.
“What about your hands?” I said, nodding toward them. “Shouldn’t Uncle Tito clean them and rewrap the bandages every so often?”
“I’ll do it.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’ll do it for you.”
I saw the bob of his throat. He nodded. “You don’t need to feel guilty about leaving them. Tito was the one who encouraged me to do this—either clear the villa or leave for a while. I don’t think he thought this far, but I knew where we needed to be. I told him on the way over that this stop was for us. He said he and Lola never have much time alone. Maybe they need it too.”
“All right,” I said quietly. “I understand.”
“Do you?” he said as a stingray sliced right past the glass. He moved toward the bed, taking a seat. He leaned over his legs, keeping his eyes to the floor. He laughed, thinking of something. The memory glinted past his eyes, quick as a flying fish. “In the afternoons, before dinner, when I’d be doing something random around the villa, I’d hear you getting your pots and pans out, talking to yourself while you figured out what to cook. Or when I’d be in the gym and you’d be in your studio, no matter how loud my breathing was, I could hear your pointe shoes against the wooden floor, a steady beat that put me at ease.
