Chapter 59

Alessandro.

Hearing the name of his dead wife rattles Alessandro. Is this a curse? He touches his balls to ward off evil and he feels a little better.

Now that he can think straight again, he realizes that there must be a message here. Everything has a message in the mafia, and if his mother has sent him a woman called Rosalia, there must be a reason.

His mother never approved of him murdering his wife. She must have sent him a woman who reminds him of his past mistakes to tell him that she’s displeased with him again.

Alessandro hates being told off. He feels like slamming the handset down and storming back to his cell.

But this woman might have other messages for him—and, more importantly, she’s got food for him—so he forces himself to stay.

“Are you okay?” she asks him, after he’s been quiet for a bit.

“You’ve got the same name as my dead wife.”

“No problem. I won’t let you murder me,” she says cheerfully.

So she knows that he’s not just Rosalia’s widower but her murderer too. How much more does she know about him?

He knows nothing about her and he doesn’t like that. It makes him feel vulnerable, and that’s a place he hates to be in more than prison.

“Who are you?” he asks her.

“You don’t remember me?”

“Should I?”

Now he really feels backfooted. And he hates this. Remembering people is important for a mafioso.

Where would he know her from? He’s quite sure he hasn’t had sex with her. She’s too ugly. She doesn’t work at his mother’s house, and he never goes to the shops to do errands—he sends other people. She’s not his doctor and she’s not his barber.

“We were at school together,” she says. “Not in the same class, because you’re older than me...”

How dare she call him old?

“...but you were often sent to my class because you were in trouble with your teacher. My teacher used to sit you at the back of the class. I also remember you fighting with other boys at break time and—”

“Enough! I got the idea that you remember me from school. What do you want from me? Has my mother sent you?”

“Yes. She’s asked me to bring you some food and to sit with you until the end of visiting time.”

“Why hasn’t she come herself?”

Alessandro already knows the answer but he wants it confirmed.

“She’s ashamed of you, of course.”

“You don’t have to say it with so much pleasure.”

“But it’s true. I imagine you’ve embarrassed her since you were at school.”

Alessandro is starting to understand why his mother has sent him this woman and insisted that she stay until the end of the visiting hour. She’s a pain in the arse and a punishment for his sins.

“Who are you to say that?” he bellows, slamming his fist on the desk.

The room falls silent for a moment, a child bursts into tears, then the chatter resumes.

“I was there, at school with you. Look, Alessandro,” she continues, “I see no point in trying to spare your feelings. One, because I suspect your feelings are not that sensitive after years of ignoring them. Two: because you don’t need sympathy. You need a hard look in the mirror to decide if you like what you see or not.”

“And who are you to preach to me like that?”

“I guess I could work as your mirror,” she says.

Alessandro opens his mouth to say something nasty—a barb about her appearance—but a shrill bell rings. It’s the end of visiting time.

Rosalia stands up.

“Time for me to go. The guards will give you your mother’s food parcel if they don’t find anything forbidden in it. Goodbye Alessandro. See you next week.”

Next week again?

Alessandro decides he will pretend to be sick when it’s visiting time again.

***

Nurul.

Nurul regrets spraying so much perfume on her hair. Now the taxicab is full of it and it’s even stronger than the air freshener dangling from the driver’s rearview mirror. She hopes Daniel doesn’t mind, used as he is to the smell of real flowers.

“Where exactly do you need to be dropped off?” Daniel asks her.

“No particular place. I’ll get off with you and walk,” Nurul replies.

“Okay.”

Daniel instructs the driver where to stop, then he opens the door for her while the driver unloads his fishing gear from the boot.

Nurul had no idea that catching fish required so much equipment. Maybe he’s catching big fish?

I’ll give you a hand to carry it.

“No need.”

“I want to help,” she insists.

In this way, she’ll have an excuse to see where he’s fishing and will be able to “accidentally” stumble into him again.

“If you must.”

He hands her the smallest of the bags. It looks like a lunchbox.

“Is this your lunch?”

“No. It’s the bait for the fish.”

“Oh really. What is it?”

“Live worms.”

Nurul feels like dropping the bag. Instead, she smiles.

“Nice.”

They reach the jetty. It’s a good thing that it’s very long because a lot of other fishermen have already positioned themselves along it and there’s hardly a spot left.

Nurul wonders how they manage not to get their lines tangled together, but she doesn’t want to ask too many stupid questions or Daniel not answer the ones that really matter, like this one:

“Will you be staying here all day or will you move about?”

“Most likely stay. Fishing is a game of patience,” Daniel explains.

Nurul sighs.

“I know about games of patience,” she says because that’s exactly what she’s playing with him.

Daniel’s eyes light up.

“Really? Do you fish too?”

Nurul senses that this is her opportunity.

“No, but I would love to learn.”

A grin spreads over Daniel’s face. Nurul has never seen him smile like that.

“If you want to, I could teach you—if you have time, of course.”

“I have all the time we need.”

Daniel shows her the different fishing rods, the different hooks, lines and sinkers. She’s not too keen on learning about the baits, especially the live ones.

But it’s all worth it when he finally puts a fishing rod in her hands and holds it with her.

“This is how you cast a fishing rod,” he says, throwing the line with his hands wrapped over hers.

Enveloped in his arms and in scent, Nurul had never imagined that fishing could be so sexy.

When the sun gets warmer, he opens a sun umbrella and they sit huddled together in its shade. If it wasn’t for the smell of the bait, this would be just perfect.

When it’s lunchtime, he leaves her to get some food from the hawker center. As Nurul watches the sea lapping the shore, she thinks that Daniel must trust her at least a bit to leave her in charge of all his fishing gear.

He returns with delicious rojak and fresh coconut and refuses her offer to pay her half. They share the coconut with two straws dipped in the same fruit and Nurul thinks that, if this isn’t happiness, she has no idea what is.

As they spend the afternoon sitting together and chatting, time flies. It seems to Nurul that this “game of patience” doesn’t require any patience at all. When the sun dips over the horizon, they have only caught a few small fish.

Nurul wonders if they weigh more than the bait she and Daniel have used. But she would never say that. She has never had a day off more enjoyable than this. She’s sad that it’s over now, even if they still have the trip home together. Back at the villa, will anything be different when they’re both back at work?

They pack up and hail a taxi together.

“When is your next day off?” Daniel asks her when they’re traveling home.

Nurul’s chest swells with hope.

“Next Sunday. What about yours?”

“Mine too. Fancy some more fishing?”

Nurul grins secretly. “Absolutely.”