A Holiday as Long as a Dream (Places of the Soul #1)

1 A Rough Wake-Up

I hadn’t slept well that night.

The day before, you’d asked me to meet you without giving me a thorough explanation.

When I asked you why you wanted to see me on a weekday, you remained vague. I didn’t like being kept in the dark when I was involved in other people’s lives, but you had been adamant and hung up on me. When you acted that way, you effectively ended the conversation and the discussion.

To avoid cutting short our relationship, which was still in its infancy, I felt compelled to take a day off.

It hadn’t been easy at all to get my bosses to grant me Friday off, but I wasn’t going to give up that easily; I would have even converted to Islam just to get that day off, since it’s considered a holiday in that religion.

Although it was early in the morning, the air was sweltering, and I woke up torn between two conflicting emotions: one of resignation at the sight of my tired face, the other of agitation as I tried to understand the reasons that had prompted you to want to meet me so suddenly.

I had over an hour’s drive ahead of me, and I didn’t feel as happy as I would have liked. I stubbornly refused to pay the slightest attention to the nagging doubt that had crept into my mind, whispering that you wanted to tell me something I wouldn’t like at all.

I got into the car and started the engine, hoping that its roar—which I loved so much—would silence the mental movie in which I was the undisputed star.

The road stretched out beneath me at the speed of a snail with a backache, and I lacked the reckless spirit with which I usually tackled a trip out of town.

I looked at the RPM gauge and felt a pang of pity for my little gem, seeing the numbers well below what the gear allowed.

Halfway there, I pulled over for a quick break and, feeling contrite, drowned my worries in a piping-hot cappuccino.

Lifting my eyes just above the rim of the cup, I watched the trucks whizzing by on the highway, and for a moment I imagined dying under one of them.

Alarmed, I wondered why I felt so negative.

I had the distinct feeling that I was heading to the gallows, and I couldn’t shake it—as if it were sewn onto my skin.

I looked at my cell phone anxiously, fearing that at any moment I might receive a death sentence from you.

I got back in the car and drove the rest of the way in complete silence.

When I arrived at the meeting place, I looked around, feeling drained of all emotion. Those places that had so often welcomed me with open arms seemed to be dressed in mourning that day.

As I parked near the café where you’d asked me to wait for you, I realized you hadn’t arrived yet. After plopping down on a swing, I ordered an iced almond milk; I needed some sweetness, and if you weren’t willing to give it to me, all the better to stock up on it right away.

I closed my eyes and began to rock gently, and in my mind I returned to my tropical paradise where, once a year, I would retreat to speak with my soul.

That year I’d had to postpone the trip to be by your side during your long illness, and now that you’d recovered, I realized how terribly I missed my outlet.

On that remote island in the Indian Ocean, I used to talk to the fish, forget to wear shoes for nine days, and build up my shoulder and arm muscles by paddling.

During that long period of forced inactivity, however, you’d managed to weave a little paradise around me with your thoughtfulness and your quiet affection, causing me to temporarily relegate that other paradise to a little corner of my heart.

My mind, by then, was racing freely as I recalled the first moments we’d met.

It had all started by chance when I read your beautiful poems, which you posted daily on a website for emerging writers. Behind your thoughts, I sensed a veiled melancholy that immediately set off alarm bells in me, and like a good Samaritan, I’d tried in every way to lift your spirits.

A few days later, we spoke on the phone and realized right away that the more we talked, the more there was to say.

Then, suddenly, the onset of your illness united us in the fight against it.

My efforts to comfort you increased tenfold, and that period allowed us to get to know each other’s souls deeply.

Now that you had finally recovered, it felt as though I had nothing left in my hands but air.

I felt useless and constantly sad, knowing that perhaps you would no longer need me.

These thoughts were beginning to carve a furrow in my heart; I knew that very soon they would spill into a sea of tears that would rise to the surface all too quickly. I didn’t want to give in to tears just yet, so I squeezed my eyes shut tightly in an attempt to stem the raging river.

I clenched my fists so tightly that my fingernails began to dig into my skin, but not even that managed to bring me a little peace.

I stood up angrily, causing the swing to sway dangerously, and began pacing back and forth on the sidewalk in front of the bar.

I had the distinct feeling that you would never show up, convinced that you had already sealed my fate.

The bar owner eyed me questioningly, fearing he’d served me a spoiled drink.

I sat back down on the swing, wondering where I’d gone wrong and trying to pinpoint the moment when our paths had begun to diverge even before they converged.

I took a small notebook out of my backpack and began scrolling through everything I’d written over the past few months.

Lost as I was in feeling sorry for myself, I didn’t hear you come until your lips gently touched my head. I jumped back, dropping the notebook at your feet. Without taking your eyes off mine, you picked it up and handed it back to me.

As I was putting it back in my backpack, I noticed that along with the notebook there was a travel agency brochure that I didn’t remember ever seeing before. It must have fallen out when you picked up the notebook.

“You dropped this,” I said, handing it to you.

“It’s for you,” you replied, to my surprise, “assuming you’re still convinced it’s worth enduring a ten-hour flight to reach paradise,” you added with a twinkle in your eyes.

A thousand emotions flooded my soul as I prepared to open the brochure with trembling hands. Inside were two plane tickets and a brochure for the Rihiveli resort.

I looked at you questioningly, and you, tenderly taking me in your arms, began to rock me on the swing:

“I tried to imagine what that island means to you, and I clumsily tried to recreate a part of that paradise here. With great patience, I followed you step by step through your sudden flights, followed by repeated falls, always ready to catch you so you wouldn’t get hurt. I’ve managed,

at least in part, to help you rediscover yourself, but something is still missing, and I know you’ll find it in your paradise, because you left it there on purpose: it’s the desire to be reborn and to believe that there’s someone crazy enough to stay by your side.

Only now have I understood what’s important to you, and I’m ready to follow you on this journey of yours.”

I looked at you in silence for a few seconds, rewinding the tape of my distorted thoughts.

It felt like a dream, and to ease the tension that had built up over the last few hours, I could only manage to whisper a barely audible “thank you,” my lips wet with tears that had finally found their way out without even opening the door to my heart.

I cupped your face in my hands and realized with horror that your features were beginning to melt away.

Screaming with all the breath I had left in my throat, I woke up in my bed, drenched in sweat.

I immediately realized I’d had a long dream, fueled by my wildest fears and desires I’d relegated to oblivion.

I looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand, which, thankfully, read just past five in the morning.

As I came to my senses, I let out a labored sigh of relief, remembering that this was the day I’d been looking forward to most since we’d met: it would be our first trip together, taking us to the Rihiveli Maldives Resort.

My suitcase had been packed for a week, and now the moment had finally come to say: Paradise, here I come! And I’m bringing an angel with me.

I hurried out of the house to leave behind those walls that had come to feel too confining. I arrived at the airport well ahead of time; your flight wouldn’t arrive for another hour. We’d agreed to meet in front of the Kuoni travel agency counter.

I started walking through the empty halls, disappointed that the shops were all still closed at that hour. Suddenly, my cell phone rang:

“Honey, I’m checking in. I have to put my phone in airplane mode, but before I do, I wanted to make sure you were awake,” you said in a calm voice.

Finally, you sounded like your old self; the difficult times were now just a faded memory, and I was glad you’d overcome your fear of flying and put your complete trust in me and my longing for paradise.

I’d chosen not to tell you anything about my Maldivian island because I wanted it to be a surprise.

I was certain you’d never have imagined just how enchanting and intriguing it was.

I ended the call with a virtual kiss and paused to watch the travelers beginning to pass by me.

I realized just how much the airport was a place with the highest concentration of happy people.

The thought of flying with you by my side was thrilling me, and I didn’t know what to expect from two poets with their heads in the clouds.

Finally, the announcement came that your plane was landing, and even though I was dying to run to meet you, I didn’t move from our meeting spot; we would have risked wasting time hugging each other amidst people who were in a hurry.

I saw you arrive almost as if you were dancing, wearing the orange Lacoste polo shirt I’d given you for the occasion, jeans with rips down the legs, a Borsalino Panama hat, Indian moccasins on your feet, and your ever-present sunglasses.

You certainly wouldn’t have gone unnoticed.

You loved to strut your stuff in front of women, and you weren’t disappointed to see how the women standing next to me at that moment—waiting to check their luggage—were looking at you.

I’d always tried to suppress my latent jealousy, but I couldn’t just stand by idly while those brazen women were devouring you with their eyes.

I ran to meet you to hug you and planted a kiss on your cheek. To prove to me, as you always do, that you didn’t care about the others, you decided to please me by mimicking the steps of a perfect tango dancer, sliding me sideways into your arms and kissing me passionately.

When I managed to pull away from that unexpected embrace, I looked at you in amazement, while the women who just moments before had seemed all too interested in you had turned away in unison.

I imagined them whispering something like, “Lucky her.”

Surely, their thoughts mirrored what I was thinking about myself.

After that sweet interlude, we approached the flight attendant sitting behind the counter to hand her our luggage. Relieved of the weight of our suitcases, we decided to check in right away and spend the hour we had before boarding wandering through the duty-free shops.

As the flight from Milan was about to arrive, you began staring intently at the runways, your face shadowed as you scrutinized the dark silhouettes of the arriving and departing planes. It would be your first long-haul flight—lasting about ten hours—and also your first overnight flight.

I got up from my seat in the small waiting area and walked over to you. Putting my arm around your shoulders, I tried to reassure you: “Honey, don’t worry—you won’t be alone on that plane. I know that when you told me you wanted to fly with me, this isn’t what you meant.”

I had a knack for making any situation fun, and that was the perfect moment to put it to use.

“You’re an adorable crazy woman, and I’m even crazier than you for listening to you,” you said, hugging me.

Just then, a sensual voice announced the flight, and we immediately got in line to hand over our boarding passes.

On the walk from the waiting area to the plane, all I could think about was how happy I felt at the thought that I was going to paradise with you—and how, just a short time ago, I’d given up all hope of that happening.

We took our seats near the wing, which would allow us to take in the view in two directions.

For the first time in my life, I had to give up my favorite seat next to the window.

The row of seats running along the right side of the plane consisted of two seats each; at least it would just be the two of us.

Boarding was set to take half an hour, and you were already on edge, making me anxious too. I called over a flight attendant to bring you a glass of water, and the ploy worked immediately, judging by the way you stared at her backside as she walked away.

During takeoff, I squeezed your hand tightly because I knew that was the most dangerous moment. I had the feeling that God was gently lifting us up, and we began to climb.

You remained completely silent as you gazed at the multitude of stars.

Below, we could see the little lights of ships and part of the coastline: it looked like a huge spiderweb dotted with colorful lanterns.

You looked at me with a beaming smile, which moved me deeply.

Flying with you was giving me the feeling that I loved you infinitely.

The captain’s voice welcomed us aboard, informing us of the flight duration and our arrival at 10:30 a.m. Maldivian local time at Malé International Airport, where the forecast called for beautiful weather.

Before wishing us a safe journey, he told us that the cabin crew would be serving dinner shortly.

After we finished eating, we were given blankets, pillows, and headphones so we could watch the first-run movies playing on the color screens in front of our seats.

We took off our shoes, wrapped the blankets around ourselves, and chose a movie.

Among the titles, *The Bodyguard* stood out, and I began begging you to let us watch it together, just as I’d planned to do some time ago.

I didn’t believe in coincidences, but I couldn’t deny that I trusted in fate, which at that moment was working in its favor.

When the movie ended, I was so moved that I urged you to comfort me.

“Look, if you keep this up, I’m going to get up and go for a walk among the stars,” you told me with such a serious expression that I burst out laughing through my tears.

It was already 2:00 a.m., and, pulling part of your blanket over me, I hugged you and rested my head on your shoulder.

To help me fall asleep, you began to stroke my hair, telling me stories of fairies, elves, gnomes, and legendary creatures.

I fell asleep happily, dreaming in my own way about what you were telling me.