“Death is inevitable,” he said. “And living forever would be tiresome. Instead of wanting to live forever, someone might consider it more sensical to die right before whoever they’re living for does. That way not a second goes by that they have to feel that loss.”
“What?” I barely got out. Not because his logic didn’t make sense, or that he said it in a romantic way, but the truth of it hit me square in the heart.
He shrugged. “Makes more sense to me.”
“You’ve been thinking about it?”
He nodded. “Ever since you first played the song. You enjoy making sense of the lyrics.”
He left me standing there, at a loss for words, while he’d stepped into the shower. It didn’t occur to me until I was running water in the tub why he’d been thinking about it—the lyrics to the song—and that was why he’d been preoccupied most of the day. He was trying to make sense ofmemaking sense of the story behind the song.
Honestly, I was just trying to memorize them.
I blinked as Capo said something to me—he was going to make sure dinner was straight. I nodded and watched him go. He was already dressed and smelling of a fine cologne that lingered behind in the steam.
He’d changed the song, too, to something older—even older than him. “I’ve Got a Crush on You.”
I slipped deeper into the tub, going under, letting the water rinse the day away. It felt like I was crusted in salt, and when I popped back up, pieces of it would be floating on the surface. I held my breath, but even though I stayed under a little longer than usual, I wasn’t going to break any fucking records soon. Maybe I was claustrophobic because being under almost made me feel panicky, like my lungs were shutting down and I couldn’t catch my breath. I came up spluttering and wiping the hair out of my face. My chest burned, and I gulped in air.
Then my eyes really opened, and I found Capo standing against the wall, watching me. Before I could comprehend what he was doing, he lifted me out of the tub, sopping wet, andcarried me into the main bathroom. He grabbed a towel from the towel warmer and set it over me before he set me down.
“No holding your breath when I’m not around,” he said.
I nodded, not sure what else to say or do. I opened my mouth to ask about dinner, but he took the towel and pulled me toward him. Our bodies crashed, so did our lips, and things got real slippery after that. I wasn’t sure if the steam on the mirrors was from the hot bath or from us.
He left me to wash off again and told me dinner was ready ten minutes ago, but to take my time getting ready.
Thirty minutes later, my makeup and hair were done and I was dressed. When I’d gone shopping in Santorini, I’d found two dresses. I was only looking for one, for when we visited Athens, but another one spoke to me, and I couldn’t leave it behind.
It reminded me of my wedding dress, but a risqué version of it. I wanted to shock Capo—not with the way my mind worked or the things that came out of my mouth, but with my body.
My wedding dress looked like it was made of butterfly wings, the veins running through so apparent in the design of the dress. It was something we shared between us—the blue butterfly having meaning.
This dress…
I ran a hand over it, sighing a little. It was white and almost sheer, but the veins of the butterfly were so apparent, dyed that intense Santorini blue. The lines were subtle, though, almost making the dress seem like it was put together with patches of soft scraps of material.
I decided to go light on the makeup, letting my tan highlight my hazel eyes and features. My hair fell around me in beachy waves. My breasts strained against the material, my nipples hard even though it was warm, and the deep “V” showcased the Aphrodite necklace Capo had given me. Under the soft lights inthe bathroom, the ruby glistened, and so did the rings on my left hand, ring finger.
The material felt decadent against my body, and since we were having a relaxed dinner at home, I decided to leave the sandals and go barefoot. I went to grab my perfume, to spritz some on before I headed outside, but I grabbed the new bottle instead. It was there when I’d reached for the body lotion. It was from a designer that I’d heard of before, and the bottle was as pretty as the scent. It was blue, like the waters in Sicily and Greece, and smelled citrusy, lemons and oranges, with a hint of something floral.
I’d fallen in love with a scent before because it had made me feel something I hadn’t had the luxury to,normal. This time I fell in love with it because it made me feel like a woman. I knew each time I wore it, it would make me think of Capo and our time in Sicily and Greece.
A time that was transforming the girl who had always run from life into the woman who embraced it—the hell of it and all.
Uncle Tito told me that scents were powerful. They had the magic to bring us back to people and places—who we were then and how we were feeling. I knew I’d always smell this perfume and think of cool seas, hot skin, salt on lips; swimming naked at night under the stars; hiking to places that were only occupied by wildflowers and goats; crashing a wedding and dancing until my face felt like it was permanently stuck smiling; rafting on Mount Olympus; kayaking over water so clear, the surface resembled glass, and the depths looked like blue and green treasure; having sex in secluded coves; pirates; and eating things that took some guts, like sea urchin salad (straight from the sea) and lamb, and the sweet taste of pomegranates and the seeds that came with them lingering on my tongue…
It was like this bottle and the liquid in it had captured all those moments and would forever be branded on my senses. I’dtold Capo that I wanted to take some of the sea home with me to remember this trip by, and instead of doing that, he gave me something much more powerful.
Memories in a bottle.
I had never smelled something so beautiful on my skin. It was light but lingered in the air even after I was gone. It was more expensive than any of my others, but that didn’t even matter. It was priceless to me because of how it made me feel.
The same feeling I’d felt in church, when Capo waited for me on our wedding day, urged my feet to move, and I followed a Frank Sinatra song outside.
My husband waited for me, watching as a woman and a man set the table for us. A long pier stretched from the house—mansion? villa?—out over the water, and a table waited at the end of it. Over it, bougainvillea created a roof. In the glow of the lit torches that lined the pier, the flowers seemed neon pink against the flames and the setting sun.
When the man and woman started to make their way back toward the house, I stood off to the side a little. I didn’t want them to see me and give me away. Capo nodded to them when they got close, they nodded back, and then they disappeared through another door leading to a different part of the place.
