They both nodded, hugged him, and then turned away to prepare the dive. Gabriella and her just exchanged a somber look. If she spoke, she was going to cry, better to gift her tears to Salacia.
As she dove in, below the surface, the world stilled. The ocean wrapped around her, soft and cold. Its hush muffling her thoughts. She tried hard not to cry into the mask at the thought of what her father had asked them. Pray for their mother. Pray for them. She had never seen him pray, or willingly enter a church, or speak to a priest without judging every word coming out of his mouth. And yet, he had asked to pray for their mother. Because Mamà loved Jesus, believed in him, and since he was going to leave them, at least someone he didn’t even believe in, maybe, could protect her. Her heart broke in thousands of pieces as she processed what he had just requested of them. She let the water around her heal her, and yet, how do you heal a broken heart? A grieving heart?
Ilias swam beside her, signaling with the PADI international signal if she was alright. Sofia nodded, pointing toward the dive spot. Ahead of them, Alejandra, Gabriella, and Carlos were already descending. But Ilias didn’t stop taking care of her evenunderwater, because he cut off in front of her, and signaled to watch him. She did, frowning.
He pointed to himself, then to her, and then drew a heart into the water. A smirk played on her lips. She copied his gesture and he winked at her. Then, he signaled to follow her and they moved towards the statue.
The deeper they went, the quieter it became. The cool pressure on her face, the weightlessness, the sway of fish weaving around ancient stones—it felt sacred.
And then, from the shifting murk, the statue appeared. The Cristo degli Abissi.Arms stretched skyward, serene, weathered, eternal.
Sofia paused.
I know we’re not great friends,she thought.I’m fond of what you represent for my family as a place, but I’ve never been fond of your religion. Still... a very good man up there asked me to pray for his wife. You know, he’s a very good man, who didn’t deserve what’s happening to him. Mamà always says that you have a plan for everything, then why take him from us? Why can’t you heal him? Is it because I haven’t prayed enough? Because I’m not a believer… I’m digressing. The hypocritical point here is: Please protect her. Protect Mamà when it’s time to let him go. She loves you. She believes in you. She deserves to be taken care of.
She had to stop. Tears were threatening again, burning behind the mask. She turned away. Ilias signaled if she was okay, and she shook her head slightly, just signaling with her two hands a broken heart. Ilias swam closer, caressing her cheek and squeezing her shoulder. There was understanding in his eyes as he kissed her cheek, before letting her be.
They stayed underwater for another half-hour—watching, praying, speaking silently to gods, goddesses, and ghosts. A talk with Salacia was not necessary, she understood everything,every tear she had shed along those years. Salacia saw her father contemplate her all his life. She had seen how he had worshipped her, taken care of her, tried to protect her with her work. And as the fish circled the statue and her like sentinels, the stillness became a balm.
When they surfaced, Sofia lingered in the water, letting everyone get back on board. She needed a moment alone, as she grabbed a buoy and lingered close by. She took off her mask and quietly began to cry, dipping her flushed face into the water, letting Salacia wash away her tears. Salty water to salty water. Her element.
“Are you okay?” Alejandra swam up beside her.
“Ale,” she choked, gripping the edge of the buoy. “Why does today feel like a goodbye?”
Her friend’s eyes shimmered. She bit her lower lip, shaking her head. Alejandra never cried, but a single tear escaped anyway.
“It feels like it,” she whispered. “Doesn’t it?”
They nodded, silently. Hugged. Cried. Took their time before climbing back aboard, splashing saltwater onto their faces, blaming their red eyes on the sea.
Back on the boat, her mother resumed serving food, as if it were any other summer day. And when Sofia's eyes drifted to her father—laughing as he played with the twins, sunlight on his face—her heart clenched so tight it hurt to breathe.
She wasn’t ready.
She wasn’t ready to let go.
Maybe she never would be.
54
ILIAS
Hoxe, mañá e sempre – Tanxugueiras, Valeria Castro
After the shower,he walked down to the garden, where only Antonio sat, as always, looking out over the Mediterranean. His silhouette etched against the fading blue, still as a statue. Ilias had seen him in that same position many times since arriving in Bogliasco, always facing the sea, as if waiting for something only the water could bring.
He was about to retreat to the living room, leaving the man to his solitude, when Antonio turned his head and beckoned him with a slight wave of the hand.
“Sit here, hijo,” he said in his broken Spanish, patting the bench beside him.
Ilias hesitated for only a second—not sure what Antonio could want to talk with him—then nodded and sat down.
“How are you?” Antonio asked, eyes never leaving the horizon.
“Good,” Ilias replied softly. “Today was… a good day.”
“Wasn’t it?” Antonio smiled faintly, lips curving into something that resembled peace. “When the girls were kids, San Fruttuoso was always a Sunday escape for us. Back then, they didn’t complain too much about coming out there with me.”
