Page 27 of Storm and Sea

He let out a yelp as Giovanni flicked his ear. “And I told you to call me Giovanni. How many years has it been? I’ve known you since you were this big,” he said, holding a burly hand close to the ground. “I’ve known you as long as I’ve known my Marina. I’ve watched you both grow up before my eyes, so per favore, spare me the formalities—yes?”

But she’s your daughter. I’m a seasonal employee. A nobody.

“I’ll try to remember,” Atreus lied.

“Do you remember the day the letter came?” Giovanni mused.

Atreus nodded. How could he forget? It was the first and last time he’d ever seen the sea-hardened fisherman shed tears.

“A child I never knew.” Giovanni went on, his voice settling in it’s story-telling timbre. “She was nine years old. Too young to lose her mama. Too old to love Papá she never met.”

“Marina loves you to death,” Atreus said.

“Now, yes. But then? She was like a lost kitten. Yet she accepted you right away.”

Atreus’s mouth twisted in a grin. Of course, a doting father would call her a kitten. To Atreus, she was more like a feral alley cat. However, she had clung to Atreus in those early days. Like glue, she wouldn’t leave his side. Atreus didn’t know it back then, but if not for his shadow, he would never have learned how to live amongst humans. He would have mistakenly outed himself a dozen times and either be forced to flee or be killed on the spot. Marina taught him without suspicion. In return, he helped bridge the gap between father and daughter. Though to this day, Atreus didn’t know what exactly he’d done to make that happen.

“I do not know what I would have done without your aid,” Giovanni said, marking a bundle of fish.

“You two would have figured it out, I’m sure,” Atreus said.

“My point, ragazzo, is that I’ve known you as long as my daughter. So please call me Giovanni. When I hear Signore Marcello, I fear my mother-in-law has risen from the dead to haunt me.”

Atreus laughed but made no promises. Calling Signore Marcello by his given name was too informal. Too close. Too exposed. It was for the same reason that Atreus committed to his second lie. The one that claimed he had a ‘friend’ on the island’s far side where he stayed during the fishing season. The reason why he never accepted Giovanni’s invitation to stay in his home.

The home in question resided right above their heads. The pescheria was a two-story building with a large first-floor storefront and Giovanni’s living quarters above. Atreus had worked here since he was thirteen and never once permitted himself to go up those stairs despite the invitations.

He didn’t want to admit it. To accept the truth that had settled in his heart long ago. This place, with its worn wooden walls, dim lighting, and fishy smell, had become more than just a place to work.

It became his home.

And homes, like people, could disappear.

Even worse than losing everything was knowing he was the reason it was gone. Knowing that he’d done nothing but burden those around him until they couldn’t take it anymore… and left.

Atreus refused to let it happen again. He’d work hard and ask for nothing. Take nothing. Cease to exist when there was no longer a need for him. He’d enjoy his season of usefulness, then vanish when the winter winds came, waiting patiently for the day he’d be needed again—when he’d be allowed to come home.

Fingers snapped in front of him. “Ragazzo, did you hear me?” Giovanni asked with a chortle.

“No, sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that if you were to stay, you could help Marina with preparations for the Festival⁠—”

Giovanni was interrupted as the pescheria doors burst open despite the closed sign in the window.

“Have you seen Leo!?” the drenched woman called out, her normally neat blonde hair strewn in all directions.

“Emelia, what on earth are you doing in the rain?” Giovanni asked, halting his work and ushering the woman inside.

Emelia Tradi was the village healer, midwife, and pretty much everything short of a surgeon. Her old-time remedies kept the town healthy. She was poised and proper and exuded an undeniable warmth. She was also the mother of Atreus’s best friend.

“Giovanni, meno male che sei qui. Thank goodness you’re here. I’ve searched all over. Leofel—he took that blasted boat out. I told him not to go, but he’s so stubborn.”

“Has the boat returned? Have you checked the docks?” Giovanni asked, his voice ever calm.

“I haven’t been able to look, this darn weather. Thomasso is already searching the beaches. I hoped maybe he came here, and—oh, Atreus, you’re already in town?” she said, seeing him for the first time. “Have you heard from Leo?”

“I’m sorry, no Signora Tradi. I haven’t seen him since I arrived this morning.”