7 The Deserted Islands #3
We waited for the waiter to return to clear the plates so we could stretch out close together and let our imaginations run wild.
We settled on a word chain game: I’d say a word, and you’d say another that had to be related to the one I’d chosen.
For each word association, we had to explain why we’d chosen it.
Even though you were doing everything you could to distract me, I felt myself growing sadder and sadder.
The problem was that the more comfortable I felt with you, the more depressed I became.
I wished I had the time to figure out why, but you kept distracting me like a raging river, and that wasn’t helping.
Feeling unable to think clearly, I got out of bed with a flimsy excuse and went out to the veranda.
A light breeze was sweeping away wisps of clouds, and the hammock swayed gently among the palm trees.
I climbed in and lay face down; soon I saw the sand beneath me begin to be dotted with my tears.
Shortly after, you came out too, worried because you hadn’t seen me return.
Seeing that I was crying silently, my arms hanging limply in the air and my face buried in the hammock’s netting, you approached me with teary eyes: “Don’t you love me anymore?” you asked in a broken voice.
Hearing you say those words, my tears began to fall faster, and I sat up, sobbing, and hugged you desperately.
I loved you madly, and that was exactly what was making me feel so bad.
I was afraid of waking up from what felt like a dream.
I was terrified at the mere thought of losing you.
I managed to confess this to you between sobs, and you silently took my hand, leading me to the shore.
Hugging me from behind, you whispered with all the love you could muster: “Look straight ahead and tell me what you see. Isn’t this your paradise? You insisted so much on bringing me here, and now I’m here with you. Now turn around and tell me what you see.”
I gazed into your still-glistening eyes and saw a universe brimming with love.
I knew it was all for me, and I could feel it in my very bones.
Shivering with emotion, I replied that I was seeing paradise.
I had finally realized that I would never lose you; by then, I was inside you, where I had found my refuge.
We went back to the bedroom, and I got back into bed, careful not to disobey my favorite doctor’s advice. I fell asleep almost immediately, but it wasn’t the restful sleep I’d hoped for.
A nightmare appeared out of nowhere in my mind, transporting me inside a mansion.
I was in the kitchen baking a cake, while muffled sounds of a song drifted in from the living room.
After putting the cake in the oven, I left the kitchen to turn off the source of those sounds, when, to my great surprise, I saw you lying on a beautiful white leather sofa.
I settled down next to you without thinking twice, and you began to undress me with your eyes and your hands.
I woke up with my heart racing and saw the same scene with my eyes wide open.
I couldn’t make head or tail of it anymore, and I wondered if I was still dreaming.
There was only one way to find out, so I asked you to pinch me—even though I knew I’d hate you for it right afterward.
My request made you freeze for a moment, and you looked at me in astonishment: “I’m starting to think you’re really weird,” you replied, somewhere between serious and amused.
I briefly explained what I’d dreamed and asked you again to make me feel pain to make sure I was awake.
The pinch hurt, but I was happy about it for the first time in my life.
Overcoming my proverbial shyness, I looked you straight in the eyes and asked you in one breath: “Now make the pain go away, because I need you more than I can even imagine;
it’s the only way you have to convince me that you’ll never leave me alone with myself again—not with my fears or my innate sadness.”
“I know how to help you relax: follow me,” you said, taking my hand.
We stepped out onto the veranda and were enchanted by the sight of white clouds racing across the sky, carried by the gentle tropical breeze.
You’d brought a large towel where we could lie down more comfortably and thus avoid soaking up the moisture.
I rested my head in the crook of your arm and gazed at the sky.
The blue in your eyes began to relax me and steady my breathing, even though your lips pressed against mine were making my heart race.
I closed my eyes, but you urged me to open them to look at the clouds: “Now tell me what you see,” you asked, without giving me any hint as to the answer you wanted to hear.
I had often paused to watch the clouds, which took on various shapes in my eyes, and I had always maintained that human beings were too busy to look up at the sky. At that very moment, a fish was floating above me, about to be devoured by a dragon.
Toward the horizon, I saw a sailboat carrying a cat; I was startled to see a shark that seemed to have spotted the cat and was preparing to attack its unsuspecting victim.
But all I had to do was close my eyes and then open them again a moment later, and the shapes had changed; in the blink of an eye, what had previously looked like a cat now resembled a flower vase.
Thinking deeply, I realized what you wanted me to understand, and I hugged you, whispering, “Thank you.”
I had come to the conclusion that the situations or moods we found ourselves in could be distorted by the mind or by the thoughts of the moment.
So this meant that the love I felt for you—which was making me feel so bad—was actually something wonderful that the rationality of my mind was trying, against my will, to paint in a negative light.
In reality, there was no feeling more irrational than love, and the only thing to do was to shut off my mind and open my heart to this feeling.
“And what do you see?” I asked you in turn.
“I see the clouds racing across the sky, and they all seem to be heading in the same direction. But if you look closely, you’ll see several layers of clouds forming what appears to be a single, solid mass. Since each cloud has a different texture, no two clouds move at exactly the same speed;
that’s why the clouds take on different shapes just a few meters apart. You gave me an interpretation dictated by the heart, while I let my mind do the reasoning.”
Taking my hands, you said to me, seriously: “You’re always up in the clouds, and I’m constantly trying to follow in your wake. I’m the one who should be crying out of fear of losing you, not you.”
You were right, but with me, you should never have feared losing me.
I’d already confessed this to you many times, but I’d made the mistake of asking you, in turn, over and over again until I was exhausted, if I would ever lose you.
I realized that with this attitude of mine, I’d robbed you of the chance to feel at ease, and I felt quite sorry about it.
There were now only a few days left before we returned to Italy, but I convinced myself that the dream that had come true would grow even stronger once we left our paradise.
I still felt tired and asked if I could go back to the room.
You stood up, looking amused, and after advising me to hold on tight to the edges of the towel, you dragged me all the way to the threshold of the bungalow.
You’d brought back my cheerfulness and carefree spirit, and I got up from the towel, eager to cuddle you.
I began kissing you passionately, pulling you step by step toward the edge of the bed, where I practically forced you to climb up without letting you catch your breath.
I wanted to feel you as mine; you were my world, and I wanted to be a part of it forever.
You held me so tight it almost hurt, as if you wanted to keep me in your world and never let me go. Like me, you didn’t want the dream to fade away either.
I was convinced that this wouldn’t happen, because our souls were meant for each other. As I let this thought wash over me, I curled up next to you and closed my eyes, happy.