They sit together on a hard bench on the deck, holding one another’s hands and smiling shyly at each other. They had escaped from her protective parents and from the party in third class. Away from the wild dancing that had brought them closer, away from the dark beer that could not numb the tingle they felt whenever they touched. As their hands hold one another’s now, the tingle is all over, shooting from their toes to their hair, causing their spines to shiver delightfully.
"Fabrizio."
"Helga. Helga, Helga, Helga."
They speak in two completely different languages. They cannot technically understand what the other is saying; he is an Italian who just barely grasps English and she is a Norwegian who understands no English at all. Yet somehow, they understand what the other means perfectly.
"Jeg er glad i deg."
"I am a-fond of you."
"Jeg bryr meg om deg."
"I care for you."
"Jeg tenker på deg hele tiden."
"I can’t a-stop thinking about you."
They both pause. Should they say what they are thinking?
"Jeg drømmer om deg."
"I a-dream of you."
"Jeg liker deg."
"I like you."
"Jeg synes du er fantastisk."
"I think you are amazing."
Helga’s voice drops to a whisper. "Jeg vil være hos deg."
"I want to be with you."
"Jeg skal passe på deg," Helga promises solemnly. He is so childlike; has he ever lived on his own? She will watch out for him.
"I will take a-care of you." Fabrizio’s voice rises to show her that he is serious. She does not speak English; how will she survive in America? He will watch out for her.
"Tiden står stille når jeg er hos deg."
"Time stands a-still when I’m a-with you."
"Du er vakker."
"You are beautiful." Fabrizio twirls a loose strand of her hair between his fingers, truly meaning every word coming from his mouth. This is amore. This is love. It is his destiny to go to America! Jack, that pazzo figlio di puttana, was meant to win those tickets.
"Du er min engel."
"You are my angel."
Helga looks up at the sky. How can she put her feelings for him into mere words, words he doesn’t even understand? "Du er min sol, måne og stjerner."
"You are my sun, moon, and stars."
"Du gjør meg rolig."
"You bring me peace."
"Du gjør meg glad."
"You a-cheer me up."
Helga puts a hand to his heart. "Du fyller mitt hjerte med glede."
Fabrizio lays one of his hands over hers, enclosing it comfortably between his hand and his heart. "You a-fill my heart with a-joy."
"Jeg elsker deg."
"I love you."
Their foreheads are touching now. Helga traces his face with her other hand, wanting to forever etch his sweet, handsome face into her mind. He takes her hand and kisses it. Her hands are so warm and soft. He had laughed at Jack when he declared that he had had a love affair with the hands of that puttana in Paris, but now, he understands.
"Helga!"
They look up to see her mother, standing furiously a few yards away. They spring apart, upset and angry and frustrated and flushed and in love all at the same time. She makes for her mother before stopping and turning around. They speak at the same time.
"Når kan vi sees igjen?"
"When can I a-see you again?"
They both smile; they know what the other is saying.
"Helga!"
Helga winces. "Sov søtt!" she calls before hurrying towards her livid mother.
"Sweet dreams," Fabrizio murmurs, sighing.
*****
She wants to go with him, but she must stay with her parents. She needs them. They are the only people she truly knows on this ship. And Fabrizio…does he really know how to get out? Can he really save her? Or is he only exploring with his friends, trying to find a different way? Her father tells her to stay. He tells her it is safer here. She must listen to him.
He wants her to come with him. Doesn’t she understand? She could die if she stays here! Jack will find a way; he always does. And Tommy is strong; Tommy will help them live. But what will happen to Helga? Will she drown? Will that stupid man in white let them out? Fabrizio cannot leave her to her death. Jack is tugging at his shoulder; they must go.
"Vil du bli med meg?"
"Will you come with me?"
He kisses her for the first and last time. Their lips are sweet, heavenly. They do not want to let go. But they must. His heart sighs; she will come. He begins to pull her away, but she stands firm. She cannot. She shakes her head. Each wants to cry. Tears begin pooling in her eyes. He swallows and allows himself to be pulled away. She will find a way out, she tells him with her eyes.
Jeg gleder meg til å kysse deg igjen.
I can’t wait to kiss you again.
*****
The crushing sensation around his body is gone. He is floating, weightless. It is almost like swimming, but he does not need to hold his breath; his lungs do not warn him he only has a limited amount of time before he must kick to the surface. He looks around and sees Tommy, grinning. He is clean; there is no blood, no hole where a shot ripped through him. He is in heaven.
She cannot feel anymore, but it is not a terrifying sensation. The horrific soaring down to a sickening crunch vanishes into a calm feeling of airiness. She seems to glide instead of walk. Is she walking? She does not know. She looks and sees him. He is standing with Tommy. He smiles widely when he sees her. He is not hastily-dressed and soaking; he is as she remembers him from when they first met. She realizes he is dead, but she is glad; so is she. They are together. She is in heaven.
They are suddenly standing together. Her hands slip into his. Perhaps she is not dead; she still feels a warm tingle. He kisses her again. There is no rush; there is only the two of them. She thinks she hears applause around her, but she cannot be sure; she is lost in his arms. When they look at each other again, they smile.
"Sammen i himlen," Helga says, and this time, Fabrizio truly understands the words. He does not hear them as Norwegian; he hears them as a language truer than English or Italian.
"Together in heaven," he repeats, smiling and kissing her again.
The End.
