She was still removing rogue strands of hair out of her eyes, but I could tell her expression had changed. Either she read the questioning look on my face, or she just wanted to say it out loud.
“I can’t do it,” she said. “Hold my breath for long.”
“Give it time,” I said. “Water is a new thing for you.”
“I’ve always taken showers, Capo,” she said, a small grin coming to her face.
“You can’t swim under a shower,” I said, “or else you’d be a pro.”
“But youcandrown in an inch of water, or so I’ve heard.” She sucked in a lungful of air and then went back under, only bringing her head right below the surface. She came back up not even ten seconds after, gasping for breath. “My lungs don’t like it. It feels almost…constricting. I can’t be one with the fish!”
“Because you’re not a fucking fish,” I said. “You have lungs, not gills. If you did, we’d be eating you for dinner.”
She paused at that and then shook her head. “Still. What was that? Five seconds?”
“About ten,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes at me, and then she shrugged. “I’ll keep doing it. Longer and longer each time.”
“Thirty seconds is about the norm,” I said.
“You can do a lot longer,” she said. “Minutes. I clocked you once. About two minutes.”
“That’s the end of the norm,” I said. “And that’s because when I was a kid, I spent summers in Sicily. We swam a lot.”
“You and your mamma?”
“She liked water,” I said.
“I bet she was a lot better than me, huh?”
My mouth twitched and she caught it.
She grinned. “I knew it.”
“Actually,” I said. “She didn’t swim that much. She liked to float.”
“Me too!” She sat down and then plopped over, floating on her back. She kicked her legs and swooshed the water with her arms, rowing herself further away from the shore.
For a woman who couldn’t hold her breath for long, she still ventured into deep water. She was determined to overcomeher issue with it. She wasn’t afraid but wanted to be more comfortable.
I swam further out to be closer to her.
“God,” she sighed, her eyes closed against the sun. “This feels so good.”
Her face was set into an expression of pure ecstasy, and her body was languid, letting the water move her like a wave.
“Capo?”
“Mariposa.”
She laughed a little. Then she thanked me for bringing her here in halting Sicilian. It wasn’t because she didn’t know the words. It seemed as if she was trying to taper the emption behind the gratitude.
I cleared my throat. “We have a deal.”
She moved her hand in a lazy motion, almost like she was waving that off, or maybe trying not to fall asleep. “Deal or not. It’s thoughtful. I—” she took a deep breath “—it’s hard for me to say it, you know,thank you. Not because I don’t feel it, but I refuse to owe. When I say it…it feels weird, like…I received something first that I can’t repay. Then I feel…indebted.”
“Our deal means you never have to thank me,” I said. “It’s expected and part of the terms we set.”
