She had told me that too, but she didn’t tell me of what—only that Brando would be my rock and I should remember it.
“You should’ve told me,” I said quietly, licking the leftover sweetness from my lips. The banana was like manna from heaven, even if my stomach was full. But my nerves were frazzled, and I shivered from anxiety, even with the pill Uncle Tito had given me. “That’s why you were anxious. Wary of everything.”
“You didn’t need to know. I refused to give it to you. I refused for it to happen. I was stronger than it was. I wouldn’t let you go. End of story.”
“Why are you getting angry?”
His eyes hardened even more. His tone was clipped, defensive. “I don’t know.” He shoved away from the table. He took a seat on the bed. I could tell he was attempting to control his temper. “I don’t fucking know,” he said again, and this time his voice was even, not as short, but the edge was still there regardless.
At that moment, the entire trip caught up to me. Or perhaps it was our life. And all of the food—my stomach seemed swollen with it. My lids blinked rapidly, and every ounce of residual energy bled out of me. I quickly brushed and rinsed my teeth, then sank into the comfort of the bed, sheets cool and soft against my skin.
It must’ve been hours that I slept. When I came to, the room had turned deep blue, and luminous fish flickered like stars in the night sky. Brando sat on the sofa, watching the scene like a movie. I sat up, watching him.
“It’s not the same,” he said, feeling my conscious presence.
“What?” I said, my voice still under the influence of sleep.
“Life.”
“I know,” was all I could say. “Are you ever going to sleep with me again? In the bed, I mean.”
“You want me to.”
“Yes. More than anything.”
“I’ll get there—I don’t want to disturb you. I don’t sleep.”
“You have to—if I have to eat, you have to sleep,mio angelo.” I realized something else then. “Those dreams you were having, the ones you wouldn’t tell me about—”
“Yeah,” he said. “About you.”
“Is that why you can’t sleep now?”
“I—” He let out a deep breath. “I can’t.”
My heart broke in three. I went to him, putting my arms around his shoulders, kissing his neck. “Do you want to relax in the hot tub for a while?”
He agreed, but it didn’t seem like his heart was in it. He seemed tired, but unable to find peace enough to rest. Perhaps the water would relax him enough to lull him to sleep.
The water was hot, but like a mineral bath. Soft and soothing against weary bones. I didn’t bother putting anything on, and neither did he, and we sat naked across from each other, staring, like we had never seen each other before.
That wouldn’t do. The chasm between us was a great big cold thing that I could see and feel now, and I trembled in the depths of it. That it existed at all made me feel beyond hatred—I loathed it.
Crossing over to him, I slid my hands up his chest and wrapped my legs around his waist. Our eyes connected. Both of us ached for the other. I could feel it coming off of him in waves hotter than the water we sat in. As much as he wanted me, though, he held back. Perhaps I did too.
Slow. We moved in slow strokes, fighting the pull of the awful current.
Realizing that we were basting like turkeys, I convinced him to get in the bed with me. The air was cold and sharp after being in the warm water. Brando’s heat was welcome.
I had lost so much, including a part of him. The emptiness almost crushed me. Pulling him closer, I begged him to sleep with me. He promised me he would try, but come the next morning, neither of us had slept at all.
* * *
Four days later, we brewed like two storms waiting to come ashore.
We were set to the leave the next day for the second leg of our journey. As Brando had promised, we hadn’t left our suite, taking of our meals close enough to watch the fish swim in and out of the coral reef.
My dolphin friend hadn’t returned. I wished that she would.
