7 The Deserted Islands #2
We’d even slept for about an hour, and when we woke up, we’d started gazing into each other’s eyes again and seeking each other out with our lips, overflowing with love and passion.
Surely, that evening, dinner would have been the last thing on our minds.
I have no idea when we fell back asleep, but when I opened my eyes again, I saw that it was almost 2:00 a.m.
I could hear the water running in the bathroom and realized you’d gone to take a shower.
The full moon filled most of the sky and cast an otherworldly light.
I jumped up just as you were coming back into the bedroom and grabbed your boxers, like a little girl who tugs at her mother’s skirt to get her attention.
“What’s wrong, my love?” you asked me with a questioning look.
“Put on your swimsuit and follow me,” I replied, slipping into my own swimsuit with one hand while leaning against you.
I knew you liked surprises, and you found my suggestion amusing.
We stepped out into the moonlight, enveloped in an otherworldly silence as the sky pulsed with stars.
The moon had unfurled a carpet of milky light across the surface of the sea, which seemed to originate from the deserted island of Sunrise.
I’d always dreamed of swimming in the moonlight, but I never would have imagined that I’d do it for the first time in my paradise with you.
We plunged in, holding hands, and began swimming toward the apparent source of the light.
The water was pleasantly warm, and you swam calmly, knowing that the depth of the sea in the lagoon didn’t exceed about five feet seven inches.
Although you had learned how to swim, you didn’t hesitate to take the plunge anyway, just to please me.
It took us about twenty minutes to reach the Sunrise.
Exhausted, we lay down on the shore, gasping for breath as we admired the stars, which that night seemed to number in the millions and were exceptionally bright.
I began to hum a song by Audio 2 that was particularly dear to me: fragments of stars shining in our eyes, the taste of kisses fading away.
You drew close to me, momentarily blocking out the starry sky to silence me with a kiss that encapsulated our immense love.
Every now and then you’d pause to look into my eyes, and I’d sigh happily in your arms.
“I want to save the stars that are drowning in your eyes,” you’d tell me, before starting to kiss me again with such tenderness.
If I could have chosen how to die, I would have gladly done so in those moments.
I would have wished for nothing else, and I hoped those moments would not become a distant, faded memory over time.
My sad thoughts made me involuntarily dig my nails into your flesh, drawing a faint moan of pain from you.
“I’m sorry, love! I didn’t do it on purpose,” I hurried to tell you, feeling quite sorry, knowing full well how much the marks I left on you bothered you every time we had fun grabbing each other’s arms to show off our strength.
In response, you pinched my butt, even though you knew it would bother me, because I couldn’t stand the bruises that inevitably appeared every time.
We started teasing each other, rolling around in the sand, chasing each other, and pretending to hurt each other until you managed to get the upper hand by grabbing my ankle and making me fall into the water. You pulled me in without hesitation, and we started laughing at what we’d done.
The moon was setting, and its reflection on the water had faded. We’d better head back to the main island—especially since I’d started to feel cold—but I didn’t want to worry you. As I swam, I felt like I had a fever, and the contact with the water was giving me painful chills.
Back in the room, I dried off and immediately slipped under the sheets. My fever must have been pretty high, and to put your mind at ease, I told you I didn’t feel like taking a shower because I’d suddenly gotten a severe headache. I fell asleep while you were still in the bathroom.
A dream came to me as I slept, and I found myself in a dark room that looked like a barn, because I had the sensation of hearing animals moving and an unbearable smell filling my nostrils.
I moved cautiously through the darkness and managed to reach a door.
I stepped out of the darkness to find myself in a large courtyard filled with countless car wrecks.
One of them caught my attention: it looked like a red sports car, and something inside it was moving.
Looking more closely, I thought I could make out the silhouette of a person who seemed to be moving in jerky motions, like in a slow-motion movie scene.
Whatever was struggling seemed to be doing so with great suffering.
I narrowed my eyes to see better, but I couldn’t tell if it was a person.
I decided to get a little closer, and as I did, the figure turned toward me, revealing a bloodied face that was gasping for breath and pleading for my help.
To my horror, I realized that the face was yours, and I let out a blood-curdling scream, weeping tears of blood.
“Sweetheart, wake up! Please, little one, open your eyes!”
Your voice echoed in my head, and instinctively I brought my hands to my forehead.
I was sweating from the heat I felt, and, unable to bear the sheet against my skin, I threw it off in a fit of rage.
I opened my eyes and saw your face leaning over mine; I screamed again and broke down in tears.
“I dreamed about you,” I told you, sobbing and clinging to you, trembling.
“Your face was a mask of blood, and you were asking me for help.”
I no longer felt the fever, but my strength had deserted me.
I lay back down, wanting to fall asleep again in your arms so I wouldn’t have any more terrifying nightmares.
The next morning, I had a wonderful surprise when I opened my eyes.
Next to the bed was a tray so full I couldn’t even make out its color.
A steaming cup of barley cappuccino was waving at me with its imaginary little hand; a little bowl brimming with shell-shaped cookies was reminding me that I wouldn’t lose even a hundred grams that day;
a white coral necklace spelling out the five letters that would strike fear into anyone’s heart wound itself sinuously around the stem of a fragrant orange flower.
To cap off that scene, worthy of a neo-Romantic painter, a small envelope was on display.
I opened it, forgetting everything else, and read aloud: “Micetta, you were very sick last night. I didn’t tell you anything so as not to scare you, but you’d lost consciousness from a high fever. Luckily, I managed to find some penicillin in the infirmary and gave you an injection right away.
If you don’t believe me, check your little bottom in the upper right outer quadrant.”
I touched the spot you’d described with my hand and felt a little pain.
I felt like I was in the middle of a stormy sea of emotions.
I took a deep breath and continued reading the note: “The fever was viral, which is why I decided to give you a broad-spectrum antibiotic, hoping it would work. I had to do a test first to see if you were allergic to penicillin. Today you need to rest, and I’ll keep you company.
I went to make arrangements with the restaurant to have lunch and dinner delivered to your room. I love you, and I’ll remind you of that as soon as I get back—it won’t be long.”
You were the best man in the universe, and you made me feel on top of the world.
I wondered if there was a limit to loving someone, and I already knew the answer; you’d told me yourself one day when we were chatting online.
On that occasion, you’d been quite eager to tell me that there could be no limit to what you feel for another person.
I’d spent the whole evening thinking about your words, and I was frightened when I suddenly realized that I’d be capable of letting myself die for you, unable to rein in the feeling that was literally consuming me.
As I struggled to get out of bed, it occurred to me that I still had salt water on my skin from the night before, and I could feel the sand on me.
My legs were weak, but I made my way resolutely to the bathroom, eager to wash away that feeling of emptiness that gripped me every time I got sick.
The mirror mercilessly reflected my face, which seemed to have lost its natural color, and this sight made me quicken my pace toward the shower.
The warm embrace of the water enveloped me like a shroud, carrying away all the suffering of my inner world.
I closed my eyes and felt as if I were soaring through the air.
Looking down in my mind’s eye, I saw the expanse of the sea where joyful dolphins were leaping toward the sun.
On the horizon, sailboats seemed to be waving their multicolored handkerchiefs toward me.
I felt free and light, happy and thrilled.
They were the same feelings I had when you were close to me and kissed me with your soft, inviting lips.
I opened my eyes and realized you were actually kissing me.
I felt myself adoring you beyond imagination as I flew, carried by your love.
The emotion was so strong that I began to cry, and the water mixed with my tears, making them vanish at our feet.
I leaned gently against you, taking advantage of my physical weakness.
You turned off the faucet, lovingly wrapped me in a towel, and carried me to the bed.
I felt immensely grateful for the countless ways you cared for me, and it seemed I couldn’t show you how much I loved you.
I felt the fever consuming me once again, but this time it was simply the passion I felt when I was by your side, and my innate shyness prevented me from letting you know.
I lay down again, sighing as you busied yourself arranging the pillows under my head.
I was already looking forward to the wonderful day I’d spend with you by my side when a waiter momentarily broke the spell by bringing lunch.
You knew what I loved to eat and had ordered lobster risotto and a huge lobster for me.
Your shellfish allergy, however, had led you to opt for mushroom risotto and a steak.
We spent our time feeding each other and laughing whenever one of us pretended not to like the meal.
After lunch, you improvised as a bartender, making yourself a fragrant coffee and a barley coffee for me.