“My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”
I heard this inItaliano,and the translation flowed through my mind like a fine wine. Actually, I heard similar lines like this one as the sun rose in the sky, and as the sun set each evening, revealing a brilliant heaven full of stars not long after.
Brando made good on his promise and read to me each morning and before bed—Romeo e Giulietta.He arranged for us to stay at a hotel that catered to the romantic at heart. We slept in a bed that had a delicate canopy, the material as ethereal as wings, the room filled with ornate gold, shiny silver, glistening crystal, and high wooden beams, with a balcony overlooking the courtyard in the midst of the medievalpalazzo. We listened to music that floated to our private balcony on thin ribbons, the romance in the air thick around Juliet’s Courtyard.
During the time in between, we explored Verona nonstop. Thecalzolaiowas not at his place of business, so I left my name and where we were staying. The man who took the note promised that he would find us in three day’s time.
Brando seemed to exhale at that. It was no secret that he hoped the man would never show up. I prayed that he did.
We were having such a wonderful time that I tried not to occupy myself with worry. We did the touristy things; we walked Verona’sPiazza Bràfrom one end to another, explored the lesser knownpiazzas, such asPiazza delle Erbe, where Brando passed under a hanging whale rib, sure the bone was going to fall on his head. Legend had it that the first person who passes under the bone that has never told a lie would receive the rib to the head. He actually looked perturbed that it hadn’t knocked him out.
Churches and gardens, we explored them all, and then ate our way through numerous restaurants—where Brando and I first tried sea urchin—but I found that my favorite pastime in Verona was taking in a live show at the ancient Roman arena. Massive in structure, it could fit at least thirty thousand people, and was as round as a ring on fair Verona’s hand. We watched classic operas—Rosaria, part of the festival during the summer, was Juliet—underla luce della luna e le stelle (moonlight and stars), its two-thousand-year-old history touching us with the fingers of time.
The second night, after watching the opera and returning to our room, I settled in for Brando to read to me. He was tight with tension, but he had managed to keep his temper in check. He raged against the oncoming day, not knowing what thecalzolaiowould say. He read for a while until he came to, “Ti sfido, stelle.”I defy you, stars.He heaved a frustrated sigh, set the book on his chest, and refused to look at me.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I can’t read this anymore,” he snapped. He took the book and flung it across the room.
For some reason, I got up and went in search of it. It was in the corner, the breeze from the open window fluttering its pages.
He opened and closed his hands, and then let them fall across his chest. “Pick something else. Anything else. I’ll read you the dictionary if you want, but not that. It’s fucking depressing. Macabre. Makes me want to rip my soul out and feed it to love.”
Okay. I didn’t see that coming. I was going to ask him what he thought about the name Giulietta, if we ever had a daughter. But I mentally flung the thought out of the window. Perhaps someone else would pick up on it and use it. I swallowed hard. “Why?”
“Ti sfido, stelle,” he whispered. “I said something similar. When I thought you were going to die. And a couple of times after you didn’t. You loved them. Believed that whatever existed beyond their home was good and just. Had sent us to each other. Made the two of us to fit like lock and key. Stars made sense to you. I cursed them when I thought you were leaving me for them.”
At the time, I had been Juliet in the ballet and was still in costume when I began to hemorrhage. Tomorrow thecalzolaiowould be here. After that, we were leaving on separate trips. He was dealing with a lot, I knew.
So was I.
After we lost Matteo, our bond became even stronger, past the point of unbreakable. But I knew part of it was from uncertainty. When he walked out of the door, the idea that something would happen to me clung to him like the echoes from a terrible nightmare. He had to know that just because he wasn’t around, I could survive. In a way, I needed to know it, too. I had to find…something strong about myself that wasn’t directly connected to his strength. I had to prove tomyselfthat I could survive. And if I ever found myself without him, he had to know that I was capable of taking the strength he gave me and turning it into survival. That was what I hoped the separate trips would accomplish.
“Now?” I asked softly, placing my hand over his heart. “Do you still curse them?”
He shook his head but refused to look at me. “No, we made our peace, through you. But they don’t make me feel steady—they fucking float.”
“Don’t you see?” I said, wrapping myself around him, kissing his chest. “That’s part of their beauty, their mysteriousness. It seems so wonderful to be able to just burn that way, while hovering in some weightless universe. You of all peopleshouldunderstand. You swim the waters. They swim the sky.”
He responded with a noise that could have been taken as either dubious or amused.
“I am sorry, Brando,” I said softly. I was. For having him read that book, for not thinking about how many memories this trip would bring back for him.
“I know,” he said just as softly.
We let the silence take us, both lost to our own thoughts and feelings. I was not sorry for being here. And he didn’t forgive me for it. Nor did he forgive me for my insistence on meeting thecalzolaioor for going through with the separate trips. After some time had lapsed and I yawned, the next words from my mouth were going to make matters worse, but there was no avoiding it. At this point in our lives, there was no time to beat around the bush.
I stared up at the ceiling again, at the rafters that lined the place. A subtle breeze drifted in. The thin gauze of the canopy fluttered with a hint of breath. “Brando, tomorrow when thecalzolaiocomes, I need your word that you won’t interfere with what I need to do.”
As subtle as the breath that moved the canopy, he stirred. I felt his eyes on me.
“This—this is important to me. You have your responsibilities as a man. I have responsibilities too. I—I need to do this,” I ended lamely.
“Tell me what you know,” he barely got out.
“Nothing.” My voice came out solid, unwavering. He felt the truth behind it, because I felt his nod, as though confirming to himself that I was not avoiding the truth.
“You have my word,” he said.
