I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
Suddenly, arms hook underneath me, pulling me up to the surface, and I’m gasping for air, still choking on water. I try to get it out, violently puking the water back into the sea, my lungs feeling as if they have been scraped with pumice stones. I cough and cough and cough, but still so thankful that I can, that there is air and my head is above water.
I am dragged to the steps and only then do I realize that Derio has rescued me. His face is absolutely pale, his eyes frozen in fear as he keeps repeating my name.
I can only nod at him to tell him I’m okay. I hear Annabella and Alfonso crying and the murmurs and gasps of the bystanders watching it all unfold.
A man comes down the steps and aids Derio in helping me up to the platform. I stand there, shivering for some reason, while a woman wraps a big towel around me. I look down and see my shoulder is scraped open, a gaping pink wound, and blood is leaking from my head. I can’t help feeling a bit woozy at the sight but Derio’s arm is right there again, holding me up.
Soon, I am led away from the sunbathers and past the restaurant full of gawking onlookers. A tiny ambulance speeds into the parking lot and I am quickly ushered into the back by a lot of fast-talking Italians. I want to tell them that I feel fine, that I will be fine, but I honestly don’t know if that’s true. I’m just glad to be alive.
The hospital is located outside of Capri town but this time the ride doesn’t bother me—I just keep my eyes closed anyway and figure, What are the chances of an ambulance careening off the cliffs? When we get there I’m amazed to see how small it is, a somewhat modern but nondescript building we could have passed by earlier, unnoticed.
The size works in my favor, though. I’m escorted into the emergency room by the attendants but there’s no one there so I’m immediately put into a room. Derio and the kids aren’t there either; I guess they had to catch a cab and follow since there was no room in the tiny ambulance.
There’s a friendly doctor, Doctor Romano, with tiny, kind eyes who speaks perfect English and dotes on me with lots of stinging solutions and Band-Aids. He asks me lots of questions about my head, how I’m feeling, if I’m dizzy. I tell him I’m tired and in shock but my head feels fine otherwise, just hurts a bit where the wound is. Luckily he says that the head bleeds easily and it’s not a deep injury at all. He also adds that I’m very lucky that someone was there to save me.
I feel horrible about that. I would have rather some random person pull me out from the sea than Derio. I saw the fear in his eyes. I almost drowned in front of him. I know I don’t mean much to him, but that couldn’t have been easy for him to see.
Eventually, Doctor Romano tells me I am free to go, I just need to treat the wounds like I would any cut and if I feel the slightest bit dizzy or sick, I have to come back here immediately. He also tells me I have a load of paperwork to fill out. I give a silent prayer of thanks for the travel medical insurance I purchased.
I step out into the waiting room, dressed in the blue hospital gown since I didn’t think to bring my dress, and see Derio sitting there. He’s in his shorts and shirt, his hair still wet. His hands are clenching and unclenching by his sides. When he sees me, he immediately gets to his feet and comes over to me, his brow knitted together.
He says something to Doctor Romano, who smiles and says something reassuring. It doesn’t seem to soothe Derio, who looks to me with an even more worried expression.
“I’m okay,” I tell him. “I’m fine. Really. Just a scratch.” I lift up the side of my hair and show him the bandage on my widow’s peak. “I’m a lioness, remember?”
He doesn’t smile. His dark eyes are almost smoldering in their intensity. “I heard screams as I was swimming back and came around the corner just as you hit the water. I thought I wouldn’t reach you in time.”
I give him a small smile, not wanting to make a big deal about this at all. “But you did. Thank you.” I reach out and touch the side of his arm. He doesn’t move. “Where are the kids?” I ask.
“Felisa came and got them,” he says, “while you were in there. Alfonso told me what happened, what Annabella did.”
I shrug but the skin on my shoulder stings. “It’s fine. She was just being funny.”
He shakes his head. “It wasn’t funny at all. I’m sorry she’s like that with you. I’m sorry they both are.”
I meet his eyes. “They have reasons to be,” I say sincerely. “I don’t blame them.” And I don’t blame you, I think. “So I guess we aren’t going out for dinner now, are we?” I ask, attempting to change the subject.
“No,” he says in a low voice. He clears his throat. “Maybe we can take what you call a rain check?”
“Of course,” I say. “Does it ever rain in Capri?”
“Sometimes. And it’s beautiful when it does. It’s like the island has been holding on to it for too long and she finally lets it all go. Usually in the fall, after the summer season, we get the heaviest rains.”
I breathe out in relief, happy that he seems to be relaxing. “You, uh, wouldn’t happen to have my dress, would you?” I ask him.
He raises a brow. “You mean you don’t find this to be the height of fashion?” He tugs at the sleeve of the gown. “It shows off your legs.”
Before I can say anything to that, he goes back to the chair and gathers our beach totes. He hands me mine and our fingers brush against each other as I take it from him. I really need to pretend it’s nothing, that there isn’t this potency between us every time we touch. It’s all in my head. My crazy, knocked-around head.