2 The Moon Upside Down #2
I’d never taken so long to eat a meal, intent on savoring every detail around us as I slowly brought the fork to my mouth.
By the end of lunch, we found ourselves alone, tired in body but not in spirit.
We set off along the beach, but fatigue was getting the better of us, so we decided to head back to the bungalow.
Without looking around, I headed for the bed and climbed into it as slowly as a sloth. I hugged a pillow, ready to shamelessly betray you with Morpheus, but you—feeling left out of that funny little ritual—took the soft pillow from me and took its place, falling asleep instantly.
“Honey, it’s almost dinnertime: what are your plans?”
Your voice reached me from afar, muffled and so sweet.
Without opening my eyes or even realizing where I was, I searched with my mouth for that melody and found two lips to kiss.
A shiver ran down my spine as my soul seriously considered migrating to your heart.
Your hand warming my breast made me open my eyes wide at once. “Honey, are you real?” I asked in amazement as I moved your hand away and covered myself with the sheet. The pinch I received in response prompted my protests—pain you could have easily spared me.
“That’ll teach you not to confuse reality with fantasy,” you replied, laughing.
My reaction surprised even me as I smacked you right in the face with a pillow. When I wanted to throw a tantrum, I was very good at it, and I decided to keep teasing you: “But honey,” I whined, “now I’m going to get a bruise.”
Your cheeky reply came right away: “I’ll make it go away with a kiss, if you want.”
You were getting dangerously close, and I wasn’t alert enough to stop you.
I climbed out of bed, dragging the sheet with me, leaving you half-naked, covered only by the pillow I’d thrown at you. My conscience grabbed me by the hair, making me regret the way I’d treated you, and asked me what was happening to me.
To try to make it up to you, I sat on the bed and offered you half the sheet, but you wanted it all.
“You’ll have to wait to get it all,” I said in a whisper.
Your face remained impassive at my words.
Feeling guilty, I decided to open my heart and apologize for being so cryptic in my remarks. Taking your hand, I confessed that I had no objections, but I needed to overcome my fears.
“What are you afraid of?” you asked me, seriously.
“I’m only afraid of losing you after becoming a part of you,” I replied.
Once I’d cleared that hurdle, I wouldn’t be able to go back—nor would I want to.
“Come here into my arms; I promise I’ll behave,” you said with a smile, pulling me close.
I curled up, contrite, burying my face in your chest, apologizing to you again.
“It’s okay, love; it’ll take time, and I have as much as you want,” you whispered, stroking my head.
Lifting my tear-streaked face, I replied almost without taking a breath: “I love you so much it hurts. I feel like I need you. Don’t abandon me, please!”
“I’ll help you get past this fear; you can trust me. My heart and soul belong to you—I could never make you suffer.”
I hugged you even tighter, afraid my heart might burst with happiness.
“Now let’s get ready for dinner,” you said cheerfully.
The storm that had been brewing between us seemed to have vanished by then, so I got up to go get my clothes without stopping to think that I wasn’t wearing anything.
Your long whistle of approval put me in a real bind, so much so that I threw a second pillow at your face in response. Knowing you wouldn’t forgive me easily, I ran off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me, doubled over with laughter.
I waited a few minutes, fearing I’d gone too far, but no sound came from the bedroom. I decided to leave my temporary refuge to get my clothes, only to find myself in an empty room. The bed had been made, and the pillows were back in their places. It seemed as if we hadn’t even slept.
I wondered if I was dreaming and if everything that had happened over the last few days was just my imagination.
A note left between the two pillows quickly brought me back to my senses.
My heart stopped: I could feel the tears racing to see which would reach my cheeks first.
Trembling with fear, I grabbed that little piece of paper.
I unfolded it, feeling as though it contained a piece of candy that had been tasted and then wrapped back up.
As I continued reading the message, I felt my tears of sadness turning into pearls of joy: “Did you think I’d left? You’re a part of me now; I’ve always loved and longed for you. I feel that you, too, share my feelings, and I promise you’re not dreaming: I’m here, and I’ll never leave you, my love.”
I grabbed something to wear from my suitcase and happily ran outside to catch up with you.
The head-on collision was inevitable, and the open coconuts with straws that you were holding flew over our heads.
Instinctively throwing ourselves to the ground to avoid the unexpected barrage, we started laughing until it hurt.
As I pulled myself up, your face suddenly grew serious, and holding me tightly against you, you said, “My love, I have to admit I’m worried; you’re the sweetest and, at the same time, the most unpredictable person I’ve ever known. You’ll find it hard to believe,
but I can’t even imagine losing you one day. I know you don’t want me to say this, but let me say it every now and then: don’t leave me.”
I felt such tenderness toward you that it was breaking my heart.
I never would have believed that love could be such suffering, but I didn’t want to share my feelings with you for fear that you wouldn’t understand what I meant. I loved you so much that it caused me pain, but at the same time, it made me happy.
My heart’s solitary monologue was abruptly interrupted by a long, deep sound announcing the restaurant’s opening.
Grabbing your hand, I rushed out of the room, dragging you toward the source of the call.
Two islanders were blowing into enormous conch shells.
I absolutely wanted to try producing those melodious sounds myself, in an attempt to impress you.
I certainly succeeded—but in a negative way; in fact, the conch shell emitted only a faint puff.
Although reluctant to try, you managed to make the shell produce a clear, distinctive sound, earning applause from the people present.
Having regained our rightful roles, we set off contentedly toward the restaurant. It stood on a stunning wooden stilt house overlooking the lagoon and facing the two deserted islands. Choosing a table near the railing, we let the last glimmers of the sunset light up our eyes and hearts.
“Are you happy?” you asked me.
Clutching your little finger with mine, I replied, “I could tell you I couldn’t be any happier than this, but I don’t think I can put a limit on my happiness, because I feel my love for you grow with every moment I’m by your side.”
I loved expressing everything my soul suggested to you. I turned thoughtfully toward Sunrise Island, behind which the sun rose at dawn. I had left part of my soul there the last time I’d been there, and the next day we would go to retrieve it together.
That evening, the diners seemed to flit like little flames around the tables, where waiters placed fragrant dishes at regular intervals.
The dinner had an Indian theme; at first you’d been skeptical about it, but by the end of the evening you couldn’t help but praise the chef on duty, who had masterfully created a harmonious blend of flavors in the dishes.
The waiters began clearing the tables, but no one seemed ready to tuck the intoxicating aromas of Indian spices away into the drawer of memories.
There was a sort of collective anticipation in the air that was making me nervous.
My vivid imagination conjured up before my eyes baskets full of trained cobras that, as if by magic, transformed into sweets and delicacies.
When the lights went out, I clasped your hands, mentally begging you to flee from there—a conflict with my innate curiosity, which was urging me to stay.
An otherworldly glow illuminated the kitchen, and a long line of torches began to wind its way around the tables. The waiters were struggling to carry a large tray overflowing with colorful Indian sweets, among which stood out: carrot halwa, laddu balls, and rasgulla.
You looked into my eyes with a hint of resentment, knowing full well that I wouldn’t let you overindulge in those sweets, which would undoubtedly be bad for you.
I stood up silently, sadness etched in my eyes, leaving you alone at the table, torn between the desire to sink your teeth into those Indian delicacies and the urge to join me and taste me like a local pastry.
Without waiting any longer, I headed toward the beach bar with a touch of melancholy, until you caught up with me at a brisk pace at the entrance to the long pier that stretched out to the center of the lagoon.
We walked in silence, intent on observing a multitude of fish of every shape and color busy feeding on the shallow seabed.
We had reached the end of the path from where, during the day, boats departed to take resort guests snorkeling, scuba diving, and deep-sea fishing, as well as on trips to various nearby islands.
The stretch of water seemed to teem with a hundred trumpetfish, each with a long, pointed snout. My mind wandered unchecked, and I wondered curiously if all those colorful fish were even edible.
The moon was rising right in front of us at that moment; the sight of it made me feel uneasy.
It didn’t seem like the same moon I’d loved to gaze at for hours ever since I was a child; there was something strange about it, but I wanted you to sense it too.
“Honey, look at the moon,” I said without any emphasis in my voice.
I didn’t want to convey my anxiety to you.
As you, in turn, looked up at the sky, you gazed at it for a long time before realizing that the shining orb was upside down. This peculiarity didn’t actually seem strange, since we were south of the equator and the entire sky was inverted.