5 A Surprise Party
I was hospitalized for three long days, during which you never left my hospital room. My recovery was so rapid that it surprised even the medical staff, so much so that the chief of staff decided to discharge me ahead of schedule.
That was the best day for both of us—not only because we hadn’t expected it, but also because of the unexpected gift the Maldivian authorities sent us via an official letter delivered by hand to the hospital reception desk.
The document notified us that our vacation had been extended by another fifteen days.
This pleasant surprise made me promise myself that this time I wouldn’t waste time chasing after my fears; what had happened to me had made me realize just how much I loved you, and I knew I wouldn’t be so lucky as to get a second chance.
The doctors who had treated and cared for me throughout my hospital stay joyfully accompanied us to the hospital exit; they were practically about to throw rice at us as a symbol of good wishes for a long and happy life together.
I truly felt like a bride, knowing that from that moment on, my life would change.
My grandfather used to tell me that it is suffering that teaches us lessons and makes us realize just how precious life is.
We found ourselves in a small town that didn’t reflect the serene calm of an atoll.
When you think of the Maldives, the classic image of a paradise island magically appears before your eyes, and even when you land at the Maldivian airport, you don’t stray from the initial idea that inspired you to set out on this journey.
It’s as if our subconscious wants to convince us that we’ll see only what we’ve set out to find.
The unexpected opportunity to have a few more days to spend far from Western civilization made us want to immerse ourselves in the world’s smallest capital city. What we clearly sensed was an environment different from what we were used to.
The locals were dressed in bright colors, and their chatter seemed to flow over our skin like scented oil. The merchandise on display in the shops looked as if it had been painted by the skilled hand of an Impressionist painter and reflected the sunlight so vividly that it resembled a vast palette.
Every now and then, a street vendor would pop up unexpectedly, humbly pointing out his wares.
I approached what at first glance looked like a vendor selling French fries.
Upon closer inspection, I backed away from him just as he was enthusiastically offering me a handful of freshly fried insects.
You seemed quite upset by what had happened, but I hadn’t realized that your frustration wasn’t directed at me but at the vendor.
I raised my hands in surrender, threatening never to kiss you again if you dared to take even a tiny bite of that stuff.
Late in the morning, we stopped at a small Indian restaurant overlooking the sea and ordered grilled fish and vegetables au gratin, just to play it safe.
After lunch, we ventured into what at first glance looked like a Chinatown, and I took the opportunity to buy two fortune cookies.
We hadn’t even stepped out the door of the shop yet when we’d already unwrapped the cookies, eager to read the slips of paper inside.
Mine read: “Your strength will help you overcome his weakness”; while yours contained a phrase that seemed straight out of a novel: “Your life will follow an arduous path, but you will walk it with joy.”
“That’s not fair—yours is prettier!” you protested.
“Are you sure?” I replied, a little worried.
We tossed the notes aside and shared our first kiss since I’d come out of the coma.
Our souls were restless, however; the desire to understand the reasons that had made me run away from you lingered on your forehead, but we both knew it was too soon to talk about it calmly.
We felt the need to fully enjoy the wonderful day we were spending together, and we couldn’t stop searching for each other with our eyes, afraid of seeing one of us disappear for no apparent reason.
My heart was bursting with happiness, and sometimes I turned away to wipe away a few tears.
In the late afternoon, we headed to the harbor in time to return to Rihiveli Island before darkness fell.
During the trip, I slept leaning against your heart.
I woke up as the speedboat was entering the lagoon. I rubbed my eyes, reaching my arms out across your body, and took the opportunity to hug you tightly, whispering, “Thank you for existing, my love.”
There was a festive atmosphere at the resort; preparations were in full swing for a beach dinner in my honor, and several bonfires were already glowing in the light of the sunset.
It felt like a reenactment of the “white night,” and the very thought moved me, because I felt I didn’t deserve so much after having deliberately caused you pain, and I couldn’t forgive myself for it.
Determined to help you forget the pain I’d caused you, I promised myself I’d give you an unforgettable evening, with the stars serving as our mantle of love.
When we arrived in the room, we found the bed strewn with fragrant tiare petals and the sheets folded to resemble palm leaves.
It felt like being inside a painting, and so as not to spoil that masterpiece, we hurried to get dressed to attend the beach party.
Although the night was clear and serene, the organizers had taken care to place torches along the path leading to the beach.
The temperature was warm and pleasant, and I instinctively compared it to your lips; that thought stayed with me unwaveringly until we reached our destination.
Several barbecues lit up stretches of sand, forming small oases fragrant with grilled meat.
Long tables were laden with all kinds of food freshly cooked over the coals, and the cooks were busy coating vegetables, pieces of meat, and small fish in batter.
We settled down at a table nestled almost in semi-darkness and lit by a coconut-shaped candle. Your eyes sparkled with happiness, and you didn’t take your eyes off me for a single moment.
I’d pulled my hair up into a bun secured by a golden ribbon from which strands of pearls cascaded; I was wearing a little black dress studded with colorful semi-precious stones, while a pair of silver flip-flops sparkled on my feet.
Your outfit was understated yet striking, consisting of a white silk shirt that set off your tan and a pair of black pants.
Throughout dinner, we exchanged poetic phrases until, as if by magic, a corner that had been kept in the dark until then appeared, dotted with tables overflowing with every kind of dessert.
There was something for every taste. I chose an impressive array of spoon desserts, while you sampled everything—even though they weren’t healthy for you—but how could I blame you after what I’d put you through?
I’ve always believed that we must respect every kind of pain, and that we can’t rank them, since each of us has a different way of experiencing and enduring it. As a person of faith, in my own way I’ve always believed that everyone has a cross to bear, proportionate to the suffering they endure.
Meanwhile, the bar was buzzing with such excitement that the DJ had tried to calm things down by playing some soft music, while the bartenders were busy mixing cocktails, competing with each other in acrobatic displays.
We approached the bar, and I ordered two non-alcoholic aperitifs, assuming you’d want the same.
We hadn’t even had time to toast ourselves when an entertainer approached us to invite us to participate in a typical Caribbean contest, even though we were in the other hemisphere.
The challenge was to pass under a pole without touching the ground with your hands; with each successful pass, the winner was offered a glass of champagne, and the pole was lowered to restart the game.
You immediately found a way to stay sober, deliberately messing up on your first try.
I looked into your eyes, a little annoyed, because I’d have liked to have a partner by my side to dive into a challenge I wouldn’t have wanted to miss.
Smiling, you leaned against a tree trunk, ready to enjoy the show.
In response, I made a rather meaningful gesture, making sure only you could see it.
After half an hour, there were three of us left, testing our balance in every sense of the word.
I was the only woman left defending my category, holding my own against two guys from Monte Carlo.
Even though it was obvious I was in poor shape, you didn’t even hint at making me stop and kept smiling every time I turned toward you for help.
Undeterred, I carried on for two more rounds, managing to secure second place.
I approached the race judge with a flushed face and sweaty hands.
I ran back into your arms, my eyes glistening with alcohol-induced joy, holding aloft a black-and-white-gold pearl choker.
After the awards ceremony, you pulled me away from the scene, taking me for a walk along the shore.
My gait was unsteady, and I struggled to drag my feet; nevertheless, I tried to strike a pose worthy of a queen as we walked away from the lights that were piercing my eyes like daggers.
On the way back to the bungalow, I tried to suppress the overwhelming urge to burst out laughing; I didn’t want you to think I was completely drunk.
But my good intentions went out the window when my rather foggy mind suggested a crazy idea.
I started undressing, leaving you speechless, because it wasn’t my style to do so with such ease.
The funny part was that every item of clothing I took off, I folded it up and handed it to you to hold for me.
Left in just my bra and panties, you asked me, “Honey, what are you up to?”
fearing I might start running naked along the beach.
Looking at you as I unhooked my bra, I replied candidly, “I’m going to swim naked.”
Without giving you time to respond, I stepped into the water.
I could see the stars floating on the surface, and I did everything I could to grab a handful and offer them to you as a gift, but they slipped through my fingers, only to reappear, twinkling, right before my eyes.
Disappointed and bitter, but above all confused by the alcohol, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t succeeded.
I turned, discouraged, toward you, who were watching me from the shore in perfect silence.
I raised my arms at a right angle to make you understand that I just couldn’t grasp them to give them to you.
I turned back toward the expanse of the sea and dove underwater, convinced I’d find the stars there, but everything was shrouded in a dark veil.
The lukewarm temperature was slowly helping me regain control.
I swam gracefully to the shore, pulled myself up onto my arms, and gave you a salty kiss before diving back in.
You were letting your thoughts wander and watching me with a serene expression.
You realized that the water held a power over me that no human being could ever possess, and as you watched me dart about like a mermaid, you didn’t dare interrupt the idyll that had formed between me and that warm embrace with which nature was enveloping me.
I felt your eyes illuminating my soul, and I reached you by crawling to the shore using only the strength of my arms.
Looking into your salt-stained eyes, I asked you point-blank: “If I were a mermaid, would you want me to have legs at the cost of my voice, as happens in the fairy tale of The Little Mermaid?”
You looked at me amused and then replied, “No, I want all of you, and I have no intention of giving anything up. I’d accept you with a mermaid’s tail, because your voice is balm for my soul.”
Pleased with your answer, I gave you another kiss and confessed that I was freezing. The alcohol’s warming effect was wearing off, and exhaustion was taking over. I put on the bathrobe you’d grabbed while I was in the water, and we walked back to the bungalow hand in hand.
I suddenly felt drained of energy. I realized I shouldn’t have pushed myself like that. You understood the situation and helped me dry off and get into bed.
I was pleasantly touched by the way you were behaving, and I fell asleep right away, as soon as you hugged me to keep me even warmer.