Chapter 38

Ignazio and I slept side by side together in the hotel bed, and in the morning he moved me carefully into the living room at my request. Gianluca, Piero, Barbara, and Michele all came to see me, and they hugged me and kissed me and fretted over me until Ignazio saw I was getting tired and made them leave. In the afternoon I asked him if he should be getting ready for the evening's concert, and he told me he wasn't going no matter what Michele and Barbara said. I told him he had to go, and after talking back-and-forth about it I got so riled up that he eventually agreed so I would calm down, though he clearly wasn't happy to be leaving me.

Barbara went with them to the theatre, but after the start of the concert she returned to take care of me while the boys were gone. She told me as she brought me my medicine that Ignazio was nervous about leaving me, and he kept giving her instructions on taking care of me, telling her to make sure I didn't do any work.

I was already upset that I couldn't go to the concert, and I sulked for a while when Barbara hid my laptop, but the pain in my arm and head and the difficulty of breathing distracted me and quickly tired me out.

Late into the evening, when I was asleep in the hotel bed after an exhausting day of recuperation, I heard the door open and Ignazio came in wearing his tuxedo, a worried look on his face. He closed the door quietly behind him and came to the bed, dropping to his knees beside it and lightly kissing my cheek as he laid his hand on my aching head. I reached out to hug him, surprising him, and he smiled and hugged me gently back, kissing me again.

I knew I couldn't go to the concerts, but it didn't stop me from begging Michele and being turned down. I insisted that the boys take a few cell phone group pictures for me to post online from the last few concerts of their Christmas tour, and they obliged. At the end of the week Ignazio finally allowed me to work, though he monitored me closely.

Not being able to use my arm was frustrating, but I did my best to figure out how to do things on my own, only occasionally allowing Ignazio to help me. I was always trying to breathe, and being frustrated that it hurt so much. My head was especially bothersome, as I had frequent headaches and occasional dizziness, especially when I got up or tried to work despite Ignazio's protests. He was very protective over me, staying beside me when he could and making sure I was secure before he left.

I spent my time dreaming up plans for the tour Il Volo would begin after Christmas, and dreaming about what Marsala would be like. Ignazio made the arrangements for our break together, and I would be staying in the guest bedroom in his parents' house. He wanted me to be in the same house as him so he could keep an eye on me, knowing I desperately wanted to be able to go out and photograph Italy. He told me he would allow me to go out at the end of the break if I was well enough, and I clung to that promise. In Florida he would be content to leave me in the care of my parents, and he told me Mr. Masters was going to allow him to stay in an empty dorm at Harrison if he would speak to a few classes.

So at the end of the week, after the last Christmas concert was finished, Ignazio woke me up early in the morning to get ready to go to the airport. He was nervous about the stress of traveling, but I reassured him repeatedly that I could handle it. He bundled me up, carefully helping me put on a coat over my cast, and then we said goodbye to everyone again.

"See you in about a month!" I said to the group after each of them had hugged and kissed me.

"Be safe, Tamzin," Michele said, "I know Ignazio will look after you."

"Don't do anything stupid!" Piero said, and he and Gianluca laughed when I shot him a playful glare.

"I won't let her," Ignazio said, wrapping his arm around my waist.

"Enjoy your trip to Italy," Gianluca said, and I smiled and nodded at him.

"Oh, I will!"

Then we headed to the airport, where Ignazio always had a hand protectively on me. He held my hand, he took my elbow, and he rested his arm around my waist, but he refused to part from me. He was observant to me, asking me how I felt and monitoring my breathing. I kept telling him not to worry and rolling my eyes when he persisted in his questioning, but when we finally boarded the plane I felt tired and I had a headache.

"Just relax. Soon you'll be in Florida, and I'll be with you," Ignazio said soothingly, encouraging me to lay my head on his shoulder, and I did so and closed my eyes. "And then after that…"

"Marsala," I whispered dreamily, and he kissed the top of my head and handed me an earbud so we could listen to his music together.

In Florida my parents met us at the airport and greeted us warmly, and they checked me over and fretted over my injuries. After I managed to shove them off, I introduced them to Ignazio, and I knew they liked him right away by the way they beamed at him as he shook my dad's hand and kissed my mother's.

My parents drove us to the house, where I gave Ignazio a tour and showed him my mostly empty childhood room. Then, to my parent's quiet approval, he insisted that I sit down and rest, and we all gathered in the living room. Ignazio told them all about traveling with me and what the touring was like, and the enthusiastic way he spoke about his life had my parents hanging onto every word.

I was feeling tired from the traveling, and Ignazio insisted that I go off and take a nap. He promised he'd be there when I woke up, and as I went to my room and drifted off to sleep I heard him continuing his conversation with my parents.

When I awoke in the afternoon he was still there, sitting in between my parents on the couch and looking through old family photo albums that my mom eagerly handed to him. I smiled and shook my head. They loved him, all right.

"Oh, Tamzin, aren't you adorable!" he said, turning around the photo album to a picture of me as a happy eleven-year-old with my new camera. "You've got the same spark in your eye!"

He reached out and took me carefully onto his lap, hugging me and kissing my cheek as my parents watched and smiled.

Ignazio went to check out his dorm room, and he called and told me it was like the college life he never had, making me laugh. The next day, after a while of insisting to Ignazio I felt okay, he took me to Harrison and showed me his room and took me to visit Mr. Masters. Mr. Masters was eager to see me, and I sat in his office and told him about my life with Il Volo while Ignazio sat beside me and smiled as he listened to my excited storytelling and cheerful laughter.

Life in Florida was pretty nice with Ignazio there. Every day he came over to my house, and my parents loved having him around. We watched movies together, went for brief walks around my hometown streets, video-chatted with Gianluca and Piero, and had fun being together. I showed him a variety of Florida-based landscapes I had taken in the past, told him stories of my childhood, and pointed out to him places I used to spend time in throughout the city. He sang to me, cooked for my family, and was always trying and succeeding to make me laugh, especially when he saw that I was getting somber. Not being able to go out and take landscapes was upsetting me, and no one was more aware of it than Ignazio.

He hated to see me longing to go out when I couldn't, and he held me and tried to comfort me, kissing me and telling me that soon I'd be better and I'd be able to go out. I'd hug him and bury my face in his chest and try to let him console me, knowing things would be so much worse without him there.

He monitored my health, asking me every so often how I was feeling, and when he saw me getting tired he encouraged me to settle down and rest for a while. He did his best to comfort me when I was in pain, and he contacted a Florida doctor to arrange check-ups for the short time we'd be in the state. He even called his parents in Marsala and asked them to find a good doctor there for when we switched locations.

Soon Christmas arrived, and Ignazio came to the house early and asked my parents for permission to go in my room and wake me up. I heard him come in, though, and after he pulled back the covers and kissed me, I leaped up and pounced on him, and he caught me and laughed as I knocked him to the ground.

Christmas was filled with brilliant lights, gleeful silliness and excitement, gentle slow-dancing, and Ignazio's amazing Italian cooking.

We enjoyed our time in Florida, but we were both eagerly anticipating going to Marsala. As our date of departure drew nearer and nearer, I grew giddier and more exuberant, requiring more supervision from an incessantly nurturing Ignazio.

The day came, and one morning in January we got up and got ready to leave for the airport. I was so excited I could barely eat, but Ignazio sat me down and demanded that I finish my breakfast. He was excited too, though, and the sparkling in his eyes never ceased as he dreamed about his family only hours away.

He bundled me in the new red coat he had given me, and my parents drove us both to the airport and gave us heartfelt goodbyes, demanding that we be safe and that I listen to Ignazio.

We boarded the plane, and several long hours later we arrived at the nearest airport to Ignazio's home, where we were received warmly by his parents and his older sister Nina. They seemed ecstatic to meet me, and they asked me question after question about my work and my opinions on touring. As I excitedly tried to answer all their questions, Ignazio shushed them and told them not to wind me up, and they all laughed.

We drove to his home, where I was shown the guest bedroom where I'd be staying for the next few weeks. I unpacked my things and then went outside to marvel at the landscape, a crowded city of tall ancient buildings and cobblestones, backed by dark green mountains. I turned back around and ran inside to get my camera, and stood on the porch feverishly taking pictures with my good hand. After a moment I stepped down from the porch and was immediately stopped.

"Stay!" came the playful command behind me, and I whirled around and saw Ignazio and Nina watching me in the doorway, smiling. Ignazio opened the door and came up beside me. "Don't you leave this porch without me," he said warningly, and when I pouted he leaned forward and kissed my cheek. "At least…not yet…"

The Boschetto family seemed to enjoy having me around, and though Ignazio was cautious about it, I insisted we go on tours of different Marsala attractions. Nina only occasionally accompanied us, though, since she owned her own amazingly good pizza business. We traveled around and saw the Marsala Coastline, went up to the mountains, took a ferry to a nearby island, and went to see the Marsala windmills. I was entranced with all the different sites, and I longed to be able to run throughout the country on my own.

As we drove by the mountains one day, Ignazio leaned over and whispered, "You're committing all this to memory, aren't you?" I laughed excitedly and nodded vigorously, having been planning to run after all these places as soon as I was better.

Though I knew I couldn't slip away and go on a frenzied exploration, I toyed with the idea that perhaps I could go only a little ways away from the house when Ignazio let his guard down. But whenever I tried to leave, I was always caught and taken back into the house, where Ignazio scolded me and then held me tightly, promising that soon I'd be able to go out. He asked me to wait at least until the cast was off my arm, which made me dislike it even more and want to free myself from it. He offered several times to go with me, but I wanted to be alone in the land, and I knew he would get bored quickly and not want to tag along with me for hours.

It was so frustrating not to be able to go out, and I was constantly in a daydream of being lost in Marsala, though I knew I still had many days left of healing. So I tried to relax and wait, and engrossed myself in calling up Michele and talking with him about the arrangements for the tour, which he was finalizing over the break.

Ignazio took me to a very good Italian doctor for check-ups, and he conversed with him in Italian and translated for me. Finally, we went for an appointment where the doctor looked up at me and smiled promisingly as he said something in Italian.

"What did he say?" I demanded, seeing Ignazio's widening smile and the sparkle in his eye.

"You've healed nicely. They're taking off the cast a little early."

"YES!" I cried, and I jumped off of the table and into Ignazio's arms, hugging him tightly with my good arm as I laughed excitedly.

After the cast was off, Ignazio brought me back home and made me sit down on the couch as I squirmed eagerly. He knelt in front of me and took both of my hands tightly in his, making me pay attention.

"Promise me you won't get into any trouble."

"I promise!"

"Promise me if you get tired you'll come home."

"I promise! Come on, Ignazio!"

"Promise you'll be careful."

"Yeah, I will, I will!"

"I love you."

"I love you too!"

He got up and leaned in to kiss me.

"I release you; you may go out."

"YEEEAAHHHH!" I leaped up and dashed up the stairs, grabbing my camera and racing from the house, running off as fast as I could go into Marsala.

In a flood of excitement, I went tearing through the town, finding and capturing everything it had to offer me. I went jogging down the roads in my red high-tops, my hair flying behind me as I startled passers-by as I raced along further into the city. I draped the camera around my neck and climbed buildings, navigated over the rocky coastline, scampered through open courtyards, traversed through parks, and hoisted myself over crumbling stone walls. Everywhere I looked was new and beautiful and brilliant, and the cold metal of the camera and the red flash of my high-tops on the cement were invigoratingly familiar. I was laughing and turning around and around, my heart flying in my chest and heat running through my body despite the January chill.

In this rush of exultant ambition, I pulled everything I had been anticipating close to me. I took in the landscape and captured in on film, and experienced the elation of reuniting with my passionate explorations. For hours I was totally absorbed in the thrill and the challenge of capturing Marsala's beauty, and it wasn't until the sun had set and I was exhausted that I finally began the trek back to the Boschetto house. I found my way back easily, every twist and turn of the Marsala terrain engraved vibrantly in my memory, and when Ignazio came out to meet me, I beamed at him and sprinted forward. I ran and pounced on him, laughing exuberantly, and he gripped me tightly, feeling my excited, satisfied shaking.

I was giddy and especially animated throughout dinner and the rest of the evening, to the amusement of Ignazio's parents. I saved the photos and gave them to Ignazio to see, and went running throughout the house in a state of dizzying enthusiasm.

I settled down a little after I had taken a warm shower and washed my hair, and as I sat in my quiet bedroom looking out the window at the still Sicilian night I entered a sort of thoughtful trance.

I had known all along when I had been injured the joy that had lain just beyond my reach, and it had been so frustrating not to be able to access it. I wondered how horrible it would be if I had to go a longer time without being able to go out, and shuddered at the idea of never being able to do landscape photography again.

I had always wanted to be a landscape photographer, ever since I was only a little girl just beginning classes at Harrison. Being a portrait photographer had never crossed my mind when I was younger, though I enjoyed it immensely now. I was so deep into this beautiful world of Il Volo, and I loved it. It was a kind of work I was now eager to pour my whole being into, and doing so made me happy.

But I had not known any job other than this. Though I had long since aspired for it, I had never been a professional landscape photographer, except for the small jobs I had been occasionally sought out for from companies that contacted Harrison. The idea of working for National Geographic still thrilled me and made my heart race with excitement, though I had turned them down only months before. Il Volo was my job now, and I had not left them to do anything else than be their photographer. I wondered what being with National Geographic would really be like, and it suddenly occurred to me that I would never know.

I sat up straighter, staring blankly at the dark window in front of me as the realization gripped me. This was it. If I continued to stay with the boys, I would always be the photographer for Il Volo, and there would never be anything else. I loved working for them, but the idea of not knowing, never knowing what it would have been like to do what had been my dream for so long gripped me. I realized that my eyes were wet, and I reached up as a single tear ran down my cheek.

I quickly wiped it away, shaking my head.

I love Il Volo. I do! I love being with them. But is there something else I could love more?

I stared forlornly out the window, and then shook my head again, trying to compose myself, and turned away from the dark night to find Ignazio standing silently in the doorway, watching me.

"Ignazio!" I gasped, quickly reaching up to swipe at my eyes again, and I offered him a false smile. "I didn't hear you in the hallway. Hey."

He watched me quietly, his face serious and unsmiling, and then he entered the room and closed the door quietly behind him, coming to me and pulling up the extra desk chair beside mine.

"I brought back your flash drive," he said, holding it out to me, and I took it and quickly moved away to put it in the desk drawer with the others. I could feel him watching me, and when I closed the drawer I slowly returned to my chair.

"Tamzin," he said gently, and I peered up at him as if I was in trouble. "What's wrong? Was the photography session not actually as good as you hoped for?"

"No," I said, turning my gaze out the window again. "It was brilliant."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Tamzin. You can tell me."

He was quiet, waiting, and the room fell silent for several long moments as I turned my head to him and looked into his patient expression. I felt the tears return, and I looked down at my hands clasped tightly in my lap.

"It's just…sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice!"

There. I had said it. Ignazio didn't look surprised, only a little melancholy as he looked back at me.

"I mean, Ignazio, I love being with you guys, being with you! Don't think I don't love it here! But…it's just that…"

I looked down at my hands again, squirming as I struggled with how to phrase my thoughts.

"Just that you'll never know?"

My head snapped up, and I looked at him in astonishment. I nodded, and then, to my embarrassment, I began to cry again.

He reached out to me, and I abandoned my chair and let him take me onto his lap. I sat sideways on his jeans as he hugged me tightly and didn't let go.

"I go out to take my landscapes, and I see that I'm good at it- I know I'm good at it!" I choked out as he cuddled me to him. "And I love it here, but I wonder if maybe I'll love somewhere else just as much, or even more…"

I was crying, struggling to speak and to stop crying, but I knew, if anything, it wasn't the tears that he minded.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and he kissed my head.

"No, Tamzin. It's okay. I understand. It's alright."

"I'll be okay," I said, wrapping my arms around his neck and laying my head on his shoulder to hug him tightly. "I'll adjust. I just need some time to accept it. It'll be okay. You know I really do love being with you guys!"

"I know," he reassured me. "You're a brave girl, Tamzin. Thank you for telling me everything. I love you…so much."

I pulled back from hugging him to kiss him, and then laid my head on his shoulder again. "I love you too. I'll be okay."

He held me tightly and kissed me sweetly, but his face looked somber, and I kept reassuring him that I'd accept not knowing, trying again and again to draw a real smile from him.

As the break continued, I was thoroughly enjoying myself in Marsala, running off into the distance again and again with my high-tops on my feet and my camera in my hand. My exhilarated state was constant and always within my grasp. I was free to do whatever I wanted, go wherever I desired, and I was so happy.

Ignazio was happy too, observing my exuberance and laughing with me in elation. I eagerly presented all my photos to him, loving the look of wonder I could bring to his face. He loved to dance with me and sing to me, and we went for walks together in the chilly evenings and then sat by the living-room fire together. All the activity tired me out, and he loved when I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder whenever we watched a movie or listened to music together. He would move his arm around me and stroke my hair, and carry me to the guestroom if it was late enough.

He loved being back with his family, and I liked to watch him interact with them, even if they were speaking in Italian and I couldn't understand a word. They were a very close and affectionate group, and I loved them.

I was enjoying seeing the tour details coming together as Michele kept in touch with me and sent me new information. I was eager to help out, and he consented and sent me occasional assignments.

I kept the Il Volovers updated online with photos Gianluca and Piero sent me from their hometowns, and I started a countdown to the beginning of the tour. I was excited for it to begin, but I was also having fun in Marsala with Ignazio, and I hoped time wouldn't pass too quickly.

One afternoon, after I had put some new landscapes on a flash drive, I went to my guestroom to put it with the others. But when I opened the desk drawer, it was empty.

My breath caught in my throat, and I stared wide-eyed into the empty drawer.

I turned and jolted away from the desk, racing into the hallway.

"IGNAZIO!" I called, my voice frantic, and he immediately appeared in the doorway of his bedroom looking scared.

"Tamzin! What's wrong!? Are you okay!?" He caught my shoulders and held me in front of him.

"Ignazio, my flash drives are gone!"

"It's okay! I have them!"

"What?"

"They're in here! I borrowed them for a little while to look through them!"

He took my hand and quickly ushered me into the room, taking me to where they were all laid out on top of his desk.

I sighed in relief, reaching out to collect a few of them into my hand. I turned to Ignazio, and he moved closer to me and wrapped his arms around me, tightly holding me to him.

"I'm sorry, Tamzin," he said softly, his hand smoothing my hair, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," I said, hugging him back. "You can look at them. It just scared me when I saw they were gone. But it's okay now. What are you doing with all of them?"

"Just looking through them, finding your best ones. They're all so beautiful, Tamzin. It was so hard to pick."

Our time in Marsala quickly came to an end, and before long I was packing my suitcase to depart the next morning, to meet up with our group in Los Angeles to begin the new tour. We all had a good-bye dinner in Ignazio's house, and then I went on a short final landscape run at sunset, my last one in Marsala during that break.

Ignazio's parents were sad to see us go, but they were so glad to have had both of us over for the break. They were just as warm with me as they were with Ignazio, hugging and kissing me and telling me they hoped I'd keep in touch with them.

In the morning they went with us to the airport and sent off Ignazio and me to reunite with Michele, Barbara, Gianluca, Piero, and the band, to begin the next Il Volo tour in the U.S.