“Niccolo!Shooo.” Romeo blew out an alcohol-laced breath, dismissing him. “Do not worry. We will take care of this. He should not be going after a claimed woman. I did. Once upon a time. But now I fear the retribution o-of—karma!”
“Do not worry,” Guido said seriously, his eyes so lax that they seemed to float in his head. “I will avenge you,cugino, if something torrid should ever take place!”
Guido took Romeo’s hand and stuck it to his heart. Romeo returned the gesture. I sighed and pushed them on their way before they started crying on each other. Better for them to have Niccolo to focus on.
Tito passed them on their way, and Romeo made a comment about him going torrrravage Lola!Tito didn’t seem to be in the mood to be trifled with. He slapped Romeo on the back of his head so hard that the pop of it reverberated and his hair stuck up.
“Old crab,” Romeo muttered in Italian, shaking his head. Guido rubbed it for him.
I walked with Tito to the kitchen door, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him from going in.
“What’s going on, old man?” I said.
He shook his head, about to open the door, but instead, he whirled on me, sticking a finger close to my face. His eyes blazed behind gold-rimmed glasses.
“Be grateful that all your parts work!” he almost hissed at me in low, vibrating Italian. Then, lowering his finger in a flash, he walked into the kitchen and slammed the door in my face.
“Old crab,” I said in Italian, opening the door and going inside.
The anger behind Romeo’s comment was lost on mine though. I felt for Tito. I had an idea of what he meant by his parts not working. He was up in age—
The thought of losing what I had made my heart shrink. But nothing else. The thought of my wife proved this fact. The way she had lowered her eyes, smiled so shyly, and then moved, our bodies touching, hot and sweaty, fitting together—
I had to find her, or I might die.
Our entire kitchen was full of bodies.
All of the old women keeping an eye on the sleeping children were seated around the table, the volume of voices high, hands moving in time to crocheting and words, if a break was taken to sip coffee.
Following the sound of Scarlett’s laughter, I found her in the back of the kitchen, eating some type of fig pastry mixed with nuts. She was laughing at something Eunice had said.
I stopped at the fridge and took out a platter filled with meat and cheese and crackers, another filled with fruit—Scarlett must have been saving them to put out later. These two wouldn’t go amiss. There was plenty outside.
Snagging another bottle of chianti, I stuck it under my arm, and then went to her. Her eyes brightened when she looked at me. She took a platter out of my hands so I’d have a free hand to hold hers.
* * *
“Are we almost there?” She was almost breathless, keeping step with my longer-legged strides. The chianti raged in her blood, making her tipsy. “Merda! Brando! Hold on!”
Still shoeless, she had kicked a rock and was in the process of trying to squeeze her toe to stop the throbbing, laughing because she was about to lose her myrtle crown, and even closer to losing the contents of the platter she carried.
Her eyes grew wide when I handed her the platter I carried and the wine. She was in disbelief that I would insist she carry more, seeing that she was struggling with what she had. Understanding dawned on her when I swept her off her feet, carrying her instead.
“Oh!” she gasped. “My crown is coming off!” She wanted to use her hands to stop it but couldn’t.
Using my chin, I secured it until we came to the olive groves. Earlier, I had left two blankets out for us.
“You planned this?” she whispered as I set her down on her feet.
Fixing her crown before it fell off, I nodded. “Just in case we made it this far.”
“Romantico.” She smiled at me. “Just in case.”
One of the platters almost fell again, and we both started laughing. She was stable enough to put one down, and I set the other down, along with the wine. Though I was rethinking my decision to bring it. She couldn’t even walk a straight line. But nights like these were rare these days, and she was having fun.
Her laughter rang through the olive groves as we sat down on the blankets. The hills rolled on for what seemed like endless miles, and the trees were nothing but penciled-in black shapes against the glow of the moon.
Resting on my back, looking up at it, I felt her legs tangle with mine as she rested on her side next to me, propped on her elbow. She had made me take my shoes off too. Music echoed in the distance.
