For that, I got one word.“Good.”You’d think I was a fool for taking that single word of praise and making a career out of it.But that was more than any parent, teacher, or authority had given me before.It was validation.I wasn’t a waste.I wasn’t a fuckup.I had purpose.
Ellie was lost, too.
Cold, frightened, alone… she was all the things I’d shoved away.Which meant I was the world’s worst choice to give advice.I fell back on what I knew.Those words Don Manca spoke to me over cold nights on rooftops when the world waited to find a pattern to exploit.I learned that, too.Find the pattern.See the gap.Work your way into the cracks and wait.
I hated waiting.I hated being small.
And worst?I hated being alone.That’s why Mario and I worked together.Alone I’d eventually implode.He kept me sane.His dedication to method and order created a safe space I could depend upon when the chaos I attracted became overwhelming.
Ellie’s sister was that for her.
It’s no wonder Mario and Allie found each other.They were magnets.Attracting the pattern and honing it into perfect symmetry.
Which begged the question, what would happen if two chaotic, lost souls clung to each other?Would they find a perfect fit, or would they repel the other with such force that they’d both shatter?
That’s what I was afraid of.It’s why I sat in the darkened living room of the penthouse, staring at the flames from the artificial fireplace.The night sky was bright and cold.The reflection of it shimmered on the lake.It reminded me of camping on the bluffs in winter.Although, I doubted Sardinia ever got this cold.
“I think I used all your hot water.”
Ellie had a towel wrapped around her hair, and the rest of her body was engulfed by one of the universally sized bathrobes supplied by the staff.
I motioned to the couch next to me and pulled the blanket from its folded perch on one arm of the sofa.“Sit here.You’re probably still cold.”An adrenaline dump and crash would do that.
She slid into the spot I indicated and didn’t stop until she had plastered herself at my side.
Carefully, I shook out the blanket so it could cover us both.Then I tucked the edges in around her to trap the heat.
She squirmed a little to pull out her left hand.Once free, she held it out, palm-side up.“Teach me.”
“It took me ten years.”
“Teach me,” she insisted.
“Are you sure?”
Her eyes met mine.“I want to understand.And, I want something to grab onto.Something that won’t let me down.”
Funny.That’s exactly what I’d been thinking.
I stroked her hand.“Did you know that before man invented sextants and astrolabes, they used their hands and the stars to navigate?”
“You’re making that up.”
“No.I was told this by a really old fisherman in Isola Rossa.He must have been ninety.”
“He made it up then.”
I shook my head.“The way he told it, his ancestors were one of the original sea people in the Mediterranean.They navigated by luck, wind, and stars.”I held out my hand, placing it behind hers.
“You find Orion’s belt.That’s one of the easiest star clusters to find.And you put it right here.”I pointed at the mount under my ring finger.“Line up your thumb with Betelgeuse.That’s the really bright star.Sometimes you have to twist your whole arm to get it just right.Once you get in position, look at the angle of your arm to the horizon.You know exactly what month it is by that angle.When you’re turned all the way around like this,” I paused to position it just right, “it’s time to sail home so you’re not caught in winter storms.Your pinkie finger disappears under the horizon.”
“How does that help you navigate?”
“Easy.The angle, plus the direction you’re facing, against the line of the horizon works to tell date, and compass.But each day the compass moves a little east or west.Sailors learn how to do this with their left hand so they can steer with their right.Both hands work together to guide your travel.”
“That doesn’t make sense.Why not used something fixed?”
“Because you can’t always see it.Like the North Star?It gets lost in the sky if you go too far south.Too far north and you lose the Southern Cross.”
