Chapter 53
SOFIA
Altezza Cielo (ft. Kid Yugi) – Bresh
She was mad at Jamie for how she was handling the situation.
She was mad at Thomas for how idiotic his behavior was.
And she was mad at herself. Because when she should have been spending time with her father, she was stuck on phone calls with Elvira from Ericeira and the nerd trio from London.
Paola had spoken to them, and in a few weeks they were going to start their official investigations on Neptune.
That had definitely kept Sofia busy in the days following the mess with Jamie and Thomas.
But when her father—surprisingly lively that morning—suggested a boat trip to San Fruttuoso, to see the Cristo degli Abissi, they had all agreed without hesitation.
“What is that?” Ilias asked as he carried a beach cooler her mother and Marina had packed with food and drinks. Carlos brought another, and she was carrying the third, Alejandra at her side.
“What?” Sofia asked.
“That thing your father said… Cristo something.”
“It’s the Cristo degli Abissi,” her father interjected, slightly ahead of them.
“It’s a bronze statue of Jesus placed in the bay in front of San Fruttuoso.
It’s about 2.5 meters tall, located roughly 17 meters underwater.
It was created by Guido Galletti, an Italian sculptor, and installed in 1954.
It honors Dario Gonzatti, the first Italian scuba diver, who died during a dive there in 1947.
It’s meant to protect divers and sailors. ”
“We used to go there when we were kids. And we got our PADI licenses there,” Sofia explained. It was one of her favorite places to dive.
“Do you know how to scuba dive, Ilias?” her father asked.
“Yes, sir. I got my license when I was younger.”
“Good,” he said, beaming. “Then you’ll get to see it up close.”
Her father looked... happy that day. Radiant, even. Like the man she remembered from just a year ago.
When they reached the port, Sofia took charge of the boat. Gabriella dropped off the twins with their grandparents in a corner of the boat. The rest followed her instructions to prepare for departure.
With Jo?o no longer steering, Sofia finally had the chance to take the wheel again.
The moment her hands wrapped around the throttle, her shoulders loosened, breath easing out of her chest. Driving a boat out of a port was always tricky, but she’d done it for years, watching her father do the same maneuvers since she was small enough to sit on the console and pretend she was helping. It lived in her muscles, in her memory.
As the bow cut through the breakwater and the open sea stretched out ahead of them, she inhaled deeply, letting the salty air settle something inside her. Her dad had been right—heading to San Fruttuoso had been a good idea. Maybe even exactly what she needed.
Ilias wrapped his arms around her from behind as she guided the familiar boat eastward along the Ligurian coast. The colorful houses dotted the shoreline, and for a brief moment, her heart swelled.
She was grateful for a day that almost made her forget illness, deadlines, grief that waited like a shadow behind each smile.
She breathed it in—chatting, steering, leaning into Ilias' warmth—as her mother unpacked food and drinks for everyone.
“Now, no one dives right after eating. You are going to be sick,” her father warned.
“Is that true?” Ilias whispered in her ear, returning to her side with a piece of focaccia for her too.
“Nope,” she whispered back, smiling. “Just an old Italian belief, not backed by science.”
She took a bite of focaccia and winked at her father, who returned a scolding smile.
When they arrived near San Fruttuoso, she anchored a little farther off the coast to avoid other boats. The San Fruttuoso abbey stood above them, quiet and ancient, watching over the sea. She had gone there dozens of times as a child—it was the school trip destination in the area.
Alejandra, Ilias, Carlos, Gabriella, and Sofia geared up to dive.
Years before, they’d bought diving equipment, enough for a group, since the boat had even been rented out to diving schools.
It was weird seeing Gabriella with the wetsuit.
She wasn’t a passionate diver, her relationship with the ocean way more distant than hers.
“Are you sure you want to dive?” she asked her sister, getting closer and checking she had everything in place.
“I haven’t done it in a long time. Maybe it could help clear my mind. Don’t you always say that the water heals?”
Sofia smiled, and as she checked her vitals and straps, her father pulled them gently aside, away from the others.
“I know you and I, we are not religious,” he said quietly, checking that no one was listening to them. “Not to Jesus, anyway. But when you're down there, will you both ask Him to protect your mother once I’m gone?”
Sofia’s throat tightened. Her eyes shimmered, but she nodded. “We’ll do it, Papà.”
“He’s going to receive the best prayer of his fucking life,” Gabriella tried to lighten the mood as their father hugged her in.
“And ask Salacia or whatever sea goddess you and Ale are into these days, to protect you two and the twins.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. He brushed it away with a trembling hand, as Gabriella had her head resting on his shoulder.
“I know it’s hard,” he whispered. “But you can do it.”
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 even underwater, 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.