Marciano did a squiggly happy dance as I slathered him in sunscreen, watching as his brother and sister swam. All my children became a deep olive in the sun, but it didn’t stop me from keeping them safe from harmful rays.
Both Mia and Mariano were powerful swimmers, like Brando. Marciano was getting there.
“I do that, Mamma!” He pointed, his voice raspy. “I wannanuotare, Mamma!”
“Hold your horses,” I said, keeping one hand firmly on his arm while the other slathered madly. “The water isn’t going anywhere.”
“Plah!” He said, spitting out some of the lotion that accidentally went in his mouth. “That’s bad.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” I said, pulling him in for a hug, before I gave him the water bottle to drink from. “Mamma is so sorry.”
“Is thatorganic?” Violet said, slipping her sandals off, about to join her family in the water. “That could be considered lunch.” She laughed.
I narrowed my eyes at her and flicked some of the lotion her way. She grinned and rubbed it into her skin.
“Gonuotare now,Mamma,” he said, hardly able to keep still.
“Yes,” I said, patting him on the bottom. “Go ahead.”
One of the guards, a younger cousin of Brando’s, took him into the lake, and he splashed water as soon as he could.
“Sandy.” Violet narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you crying?”
“No.” I lifted my Ray-Bans, sniffing, wiping with the back of my hand. “I got sunscreen in my eyes.”
“Liar,” she whispered. “But as long as you know the truth.”
How could I not? My heart was so overwhelmed by the separation between us that the hurt seemed to overflow from my eyes without consent. I had thrown myself into taking care of my children, which seemed like the easiest thing in the world while simultaneously being the hardest.
We all needed it, though.
The children needed me, and I needed them even more. When I started to veer down paths that led to unknown roads, that direction alone keep me on track.
Violet pushed her bag closer to me. “You coming?”
“Maybe later,” I said, wanting to call Matteo to check on him.
She sighed but didn’t say anything else. Her hot pink bathing suit was almost blinding and fit all her curves in all the right places.
Lou and the children were swimming, but of course, Guido stood close to me, always on watch.
“Go swimming with your family,” I told him, pointing. “Have fun.”
He smirked at me, his reflective sunglasses taking the scene in like a mirror, watchful eyes on the other side. “My job is not to swim. It is to watch.”
“If I swim?”
“Then the water is part of my job.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It is a job.”
I picked up the water bottle and tapped it against my leg, keeping my eyes forward. “I’m sorry, Guido. Not about not swimming,” I added hurriedly, not wanting him to mistake my meaning. “I’m sorry for throwing mud on you.”
He studied me for a moment—I could feel his eyes on me even through the glasses—and then cleared his throat. “No,” he said, voice raw. “I am sorry. I should have been there.”
Then he came to stand in front of me, just off to the side so I could see. I had hit a nerve. Both his and mine.
