Day Two

Stefano woke before the others, which meant he woke to silence. He was always a morning person where Diego and Alessia were not. They could sleep in without a second thought. It's impressive they'd picked camping of all things to unwind in this fashion, but it wasn't his place to judge.

He unlatched the door and stepped out into the dew-slick grass, watching the lake turn from black to grey to a pale, shy blue. Perhaps it was a good thing they chose to sleep in. If the weather cleared up quickly, then they'd avoid all manner of irritation at each other. He hated watching the two bicker, no matter how often they do.

Diego's boots crunched on the gravel half an hour later. He carried a fishing rod and a thermos, and he didn't look at Stefano as he walked past. He never did. But this morning, he paused at the water's edge and said, almost to himself, "Can't believe she talked me into this."

"She didn't talk you into anything," Stefano said. "You came because you wanted to."

Diego observed the weather and then looked down to the flowing water. "The waters look calm today."

"As opposed to–"

"I doubt it'll be all that eventful."

"What? Fishing? Could always wait until Alessia wakes up and you could fish together."

Diego remained silent for a long while before letting out a heavy sigh. "But fishing is a good solitary adventure. Might as well get it over and done with."

"You know, it doesn't have to be just solitary."

Diego moved forward and stepped into the canoe, pushed off with an oar, and began paddling toward the center of the lake.

"Be that way then. Prick." Stefano hissed, watching him go with a huff. The canoe cut a clean V through the water. He sat on the dock and let his feet dangle above the surface, not quite touching.

He stood there for a long while before Alessia emerged from the trailer in a rumpled sweatshirt and with messy hair. She blinked at the empty lake, then at Stefano. "Diego went fishing?"

"Yep."

"He went without me."

"He always does." Stefano patted the dock beside him. "Come sit. It's nice this time of morning."

She sat, close enough that her shoulder almost brushed his. "How was he?" Alessia asked in a low tone.

"Not much to say that hasn't been said." He picked up a flat stone, tested its weight in his palm. "He's been quiet all trip. Is that normal for him now?"

She pulled her knees up. "It's been like this for a while. He doesn't talk about the things that matter."

"About that night, you mean."

She flinched. "Don't."

"It's been three years, Al. He can't keep pretending it didn't happen."

She turned to him, her jaw tight. "And what would you have him say? 'Sorry I wasn't there?' 'Sorry I didn't pull you out?'"

Stefano skipped the stone across the lake. One, two, three skips before it sank. "He doesn't need to say anything. He just needs to stop pretending."

Alessia watched the ripples spread and fade. "He's not pretending."

"Then what would you call that?"

"I don't know. I don't want to know."

Stefano didn't answer. He picked up another stone, turned it over, and let it drop into the water at his feet.

It sank without a sound. No splash, no ripple, just a clean vanish into the dark.

They sat together for a while. Alessia kept herself busy fixing up her appearance and filling up on some light snacks. With Diego gone there was nothing to get in between her and the prawn chips or reading her latest book. Stefano mused about random anecdotes and reminiscing about past camping trips.

After a while Diego returned with a single trout, strung through the gills on a piece of twine. "Only one," he said, "but it's a decent size."

Alessia was reading on the picnic blanket. Stefano lay beside her, staring up at the pine needles. She closed her book when Diego approached.

"That's impressive," she mused with mild admiration. "You actually caught something."

"I'd be a disappointment to my bloodline if I couldn't." He laid the trout on a flat rock and began rummaging for the skillet.

It hadn't taken long to find it and set up the fire. In a manner of minutes the campsite smelled of perfectly roasted fish and everyone was alight with soft smiles and a peaceful calm that carried on throughout the end of dinner.

The stars began to fill the night sky as the fires began to die down. Diego sat on the flimsy camping chair, believing Alessia had been exaggerating the weakness of the bent leg. Alessia sat on one of the more stable chairs, with the third on standby if Diego ever needed to swap of to "a proper seat" in Stefano's own words. Stefano had found a spot on the ground by the fire ring, close enough to feel the warmth.

"The water's calm tonight. I guess we picked a good time in the year to come around." Diego mused as conversation had hit a lull. "Maybe we can swim tomorrow."

Alessia went rigid. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

She shook her head. "I just don't want to."

Diego looked at her for a long while. "Is this about three years ago?"

Stefano felt his own chest tighten as he watched Alessia lock up. "Al–"

Alessia stared into the flames, shaking her head no to snap herself out of her wandering thoughts. "Yes," she whispered. "No. Maybe? I don't know."

Diego leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "It's been three years. I know you don't like to talk about it, but–"

"There's nothing to talk about. He fell, he drowned, they found him the next morning. End of story."

Stefano said softly, "It's not the end."

"It's his own fault what happened no one told him to mess around. He knew he couldn't swim anyway."

Diego gave her a moment longer, just to give her more time to speak. When it was clear she was done at this point, he leaned forward and caught her gaze. "You never told me what you were doing on the dock that night. Why you were there..."

Alessia's eyes flicked to Stefano. "I was... I was talking to him."

Stefano shifted away just a little bit. "A little more than just talking, don't you think?"

Diego shook his head. He knew there was more. "Talking to him? He was already in the water by then, why didn't you pull him out?"

"How could I? With the storm's intensity jumping in after him would've been a death sentence."

"So you just stood there and watched him die?"

"No, I mean–" She began before noting how Stefano shook his head. She decided to let it go. She wasn't quite in the mood to debate the semantics of this all. It was tiring beyond belief. "I just wanted to be alone. I hadn't expected to find him there."

Diego sat back. "You're still not over it."

"Would you be?"

"Maybe not. But if nothing else, I wouldn't be bottling it up the way you often do." He picked up a stick, stirred the embers. Alessia's breath caught. Stefano watched Diego's face but could discern nothing as Diego poked at the fire. "You've been weird all trip. That's all I'm saying."

"Al's always weird though." Stefano countered with obvious endearment.

"Weirder than usual." Diego mumbled, stood up with cautious attention for the chair he sat on, stretched, and walked to the trailer. "I'm going to bed. You should too." The door closed behind him.

Alessia waited a full minute before she turned to Stefano. "He still suspects me of something."

"He suspects you're sad. That's all." Stefano moved closer, sitting cross-legged beside her. "Can't blame him. It's obvious that even now, you haven't moved past it all."

"How am I supposed to just move past that? I can't forget what I saw, can't ignore how little I'd done."

Stefano reached out, his hand hovering over hers. "You should tell him the truth," he said. "About that night. About–."

"I can't."

"You can. It'll break you, but you'll heal. You need to give yourself the chance to talk about it, and he wants to be there. Wants to support you. To help, just once, if only you'd let him in."

She looked at him, eyes wet and bright. "I don't want to heal if it means losing someone again."

"Al." His voice was gentle, sad. "You'll lose him if you don't face it yourself. For once, for me, just try talk to him."

She didn't answer. She just sat there in solemn silence, feeling nothing but the cold overpowering the dying flicker of the campfire's flames.