The singer began a slow song. I moved in closer to Brando, wrapping my hands around his neck, my rings reflecting soft light and sparking in the darkness. The sting of sun was hot on his skin; it made me feel flushed. He didn’t know the lyrics, but he tried to sing them to me anyway. He got the part right when the singer let out a low howl.
I laughed and shook my head as we swayed. His eyes glistened with drink and firelight. When he kissed me, he tasted of fresh oysters and cool beer. “So what do you think, Ballerina Girl?” He dipped me. “Is it too early in the relationship to tell you that I love you? Or will it scare you off?”
“Well,” I said, pretending to deliberate. “We’ve made love. That wasbeforedate one and happened every day since, more than once. And since you didn’t steal the nooky and run—”
“On the contrary, my little nymph—”
I tugged at his hair and he grinned. The slow dance continued, and instead of tugging at his hair, I stroked the back of his neck, lost to the fire in his eyes. Switching to Italian, he told me that he loved me.
“Ti amo anch'io.” I closed my eyes, wishing I could melt so he could absorb me into his skin. “I don’t want us to ever quit dating.”
His hold became tighter, his arms around my back, as we moved in a sensual rhythm.
“This is better than good,” I said, inhaling the exotic scent of him. “Good enough to marry.”
“Marriage.” He shook his head. “Now you’re trying to scare me off on purpose.”
We both exploded with laughter, garnering a few mean looks from other couples who were lost in each other during the dance.
“You’re crying, my baby.”
“Perché io sono così felice,” I sniffed.
“Dire di nuovo,” he breathed.Say it again.
“Because I’m happy.” I sniffed even harder, not wanting to have a full-blown crying jag in the midst of this slow song and all of these strangers.
He set my hands around his waist, and taking my face in his hands, slowly slid his tongue up the side of my cheek to my eye, where he a placed a soft kiss there. “Stay with Tito and Lola. I’ll be back.”
I extended a hand to him when he went to go. “W-where are you going?”
He took it and squeezed. “I won’t be long. You have my word.”
“Please,” I said, wiping at my nose. “Don’t be.”
He nodded and kissed me again. As he walked away, he stopped and whispered something in Uncle Tito’s ear. The old doctor looked at me before nodding.
“How about we take a seat and watch the dancers?” Uncle Tito suggested as Brando disappeared in the thick crowd.
I agreed. We took two beach chairs, one beside the other. Aunt Lola danced with a younger man, and even though I didn’t feel steady, the sight made me smile. “You don’t mind her dancing with him?”
Uncle Tito took a sip of some red drink he had ordered. “Ah,” he shook his head. “My knees are not what they used to be, I’m afraid. If she is having fun, I am having fun. She comes to my bed only, after all. You both will learn this, given time.”
Uncle Tito was a different man entirely, not built the same way my husband was. I didn’t totally disagree, but there was no way Brando would ever be that lenient when it came to me. Even at Uncle Tito’s age, I could see Brando swinging a cane at another man’s head.
As Uncle Tito got lost in the sight of his wife having fun, I became lost to my own thoughts. The songs continued, and worry started to creep in. Brando was taking too long. He had been gone for almost an hour.
I should’ve gone with him.
Our time on the island had fused me to Brando, and I almost felt like a pilot fish hovering around my own shark. He had gone off to do—whatever—and I could hardly bear the thought of being separated from him. Some of the sadness was caused by the fact that we were leaving the island soon. Life was going to be different at home.
Reminding myself that he had taken a leave of absence from his job reassured me, but not for long. There were so many things waiting for us. His family, my family, and the demands of all that stood against us. There was no escape. We had found our escape on the island, and through it, my love for him had seemed to grow as I fell even deeper. I became even more attached to him, my side truly married to his side, and when he was gone, I felt the absence in the marrow of my bones.
Having a near-death experience seemed to make all of my feelings stronger.
Uncle Tito patted my hand, eyes on his wife. “He will be back shortly. Do not worry,piccola colomba.AH!” He clapped at Aunt Lola, who swung around, much to her delight. “Bellissimo! Bellissimo! La mia farfalla!”
“Hmph.” I stared at the crowd, willing him back.
