Chapter 54
ILIAS
Hoxe, maná 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.”
Antonio chuckled gently, though something in his voice trembled.
“Well, Sofia never complained. Not when the sea was involved. Gabri... Gabri couldn’t stand too much water.
Always clung to the boat like it might drift away with her if she blinked.
” He paused, fingers twitching. “Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with two daughters so different, and yet so fiercely loyal to each other. I had a terrible relationship with my brother—he died two years ago—and when I see them... at least I know they’ll have each other when I’m gone. ”
Ilias nodded, unsure of what to say. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It simply existed, stretched between them like a shared understanding that didn’t need words.
“Sofia told me you lost your father,” Antonio said eventually.
“Yes,” Ilias said, softly. “Two years ago. We didn’t have a good relationship. He left me with a sinking business and a decade’s worth of therapy. I tried to be loyal to what he built... but sometimes, I think I’m just trying to prove him wrong.”
Antonio chuckled, eyes still trained on the waves. “He sounds like he was an intense man.”
“He was. Loved the ocean. Loved Morocco. He adored its people, its stories, its rhythm. I think... I think he resented that Amira and I didn’t fully embrace it because we decided to travel so often because of surfing.”
“From which part of Morocco is he from?”
“Oh no. He’s from Málaga. He always said that he must have been Moroccan in his past life, because he felt extremely connected to the land…” Ilias sighed. “He was a bit of a hippie, one of the first who traveled to Morocco to surf.”
“Oh, Andalusian people. They are fire and force,” he said, smiling. “And if you mix that with Ligurian blood? Dio mio... what a blend.” He laughed lightly, shaking his head. Then he quieted again. “If I can ask, how did he die?”
“A stroke. Suddenly. No warning.” Ilias looked out at the horizon.
“I’m sorry. I bet it was hard. Not being able to say goodbye.”
Pain swelled in his chest, as he took a deep breath. “The last words I told him weren’t kind by any means. We found out he had another family in Morocco. It started while we lived in Málaga during the school year to study, and he opened Azul in Imsouane.”
“Not all dead people must be pitied,” Antonio declared, sharing with him a knowing look.
Ilias looked at him slightly surprised, which prompted Antonio to continue.
“What I mean is…without sounding too harsh…would you feel this pity in your heart if he were alive? Would you have rekindled your relationship? Would you be able to forgive him?” Then he sighed, “What I’m trying to say is that the timing was horrible, but just because he died, you don’t have to feel worse than you feel.
He should have behaved better in life, so that his memory wouldn’t be destroyed by his own acts. ”
Ilias blinked several times, taking in what Antonio had just told him.
“I bet you loved him dearly, and that’s why I can still see pain in your words. But don’t hurt yourself for somebody who didn’t care too much about you when he was alive.” Then, he sighed. “Sometimes my daughters say that I’m too forward. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.”
Ilias shook his head. “No, by any means.” As he spun those words in his mind, trying to process them and let them sit into his heart, he turned to Antonio. “I think you just handed me a way to make even more peace with what happened back then.”
Antonio smiled, his blue eyes shimmering in the golden hour.
“My pleasure, then. Maybe this could be like a…Dio mio, I don’t want to pretend to be a father figure to you in a matter of days, but I hope that somehow, this could have been the conversation you wished you had with your father.
” He paused, and then smiled a bit more. “Modesty was never part of me.”
Ilias laughed. “It truly helped me. Thank you so much.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“You look calm. Steady. I like that you can be calm and fire, because I’ve seen the punch you’ve landed on that French surfer.” Antonio smiled, knowing looks. But then, he sombered. “Do you think they’ll be alright after I’m gone?”
His gaze didn’t waver from the horizon. It was the way he asked that pierced something in Ilias. It wasn’t a father speaking of the inevitable, but a man who loved his family so much, he couldn’t imagine them without him.
Ilias hesitated. Then he said what he had told Sofia, with even more weight behind the words now. “I think it will take time. A lot of time. They’ll miss you more than words can hold. But they’ll love you forever. And I believe... they’ll carry you with them everywhere they go.”
Antonio sniffed, cleared his throat, clicked his tongue like he was trying to swallow something down. And then, his voice more fragile this time, he asked, “Do you love Sofia, Ilias?”
“Yes,” he said, without pause. “Very much, Antonio.”
“Then take care of her.” Antonio’s jaw tensed, but his chin wobbled slightly.
“She’s a strong woman, but she carries so much.
That strength... it costs her. She won’t always ask for help.
And I know she can handle everything life throws at her, but please,” he turned to look at Ilias directly now, his eyes glassy with unspilled tears, “take care of her anyway. Take care of Gabri, too. That Roberto’s an idiot, always has been.
And the twins… I’m not saying you need to check on them all the time, but just…
keep an eye out for them. Make sure they’re treated well.
That they know they’re loved.” Antonio took his hands now. “I know I’m asking too much–”
“I will. I will take care of them.” Ilias felt something sharp pierce behind his eyes. “I’ll do it. I promise. But... I still think you’ve got more time. You’re still here. Still laughing. Still stealing focaccia.”
Antonio smiled faintly, but his eyes returned to the sea.
“No,” he said quietly, almost like he was speaking only to himself. “I don’t think I have much time left.” He exhaled, long and slow, as if releasing something heavy. “And even though I’m not ready to go, not even a little, I think the time is coming soon.”
The words floated between them, too heavy to catch and too sacred to interrupt. Ilias didn’t respond. He simply sat there beside him, silent, listening to the waves. The two of them watched the sea together—two men, one at the beginning of something uncertain, and one slowly approaching the end.
The horizon remained quiet. The sky darkened, inch by inch, and the air filled with that soft stillness that often comes right before grief has a name.