11 The Sweetness of Doing Nothing #3
I wish I’d never said that! You burst out laughing so hard that tears came to your eyes, and I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed, indignant, or just laugh at my own stupidity. I decided on the simplest option, telling you that I loved you.
The sound of the horns announcing lunch saved me at the last minute.
As you remarked that sooner or later I’d give in anyway, you took my hand and we walked toward the restaurant, from which inviting aromas were wafting.
The daily menu featured a selection of Italian dishes, and you were already looking forward to a huge plate of lasagna Bolognese.
I didn’t know what to choose, while you suggested I eat because I’d need plenty of energy for my afternoon nap.
I’d stirred up a hornet’s nest—serves me right.
Now that you were in a good mood again, I could no longer keep you at bay with the whole “shyness” thing.
I chose seafood dishes. I desperately needed to boost my phosphorus intake to come up with new ideas to fend off your attacks.
After a serving of linguine with seafood and grilled king prawns, everything seemed simpler…
but I hadn’t reckoned with the waiter yet.
I hadn’t realized I’d eaten highly aphrodisiac foods which, paired with Sardinian white wine, were hatching a battle plan rather than a strategy for defense and escape.
I felt like laughing, but I didn’t dare to, to avoid questions from you, so I put on a serious face and launched into a discourse on why the average human being is more inclined to be dishonest with others than altruistic.
You looked at me suspiciously, as if I were hiding something, but I was clever enough not to let you realize that I was doing everything I could to avoid getting up from the table.
It was just the two of us left in the restaurant, and I didn’t know how to stand up to you.
The story of the dream had frightened me, and I didn’t feel up to talking to you about it.
Suddenly, I realized I didn’t know you; I felt inadequate next to you and perhaps I fell short of your expectations.
You were in love with my soul and I with yours, but you were also a man with all that entailed, while I was the eternal little girl, the one with dreams and the idea that babies were born under cabbages.
I asked myself for the umpteenth time if one day, sooner or later, you’d grow tired of me.
We got up before the waiters asked us to, and I headed toward the shore.
My mood dragged along with my sad, hesitant steps.
I walked a meter behind you, not sure whether to start crying.
I was so afraid, but I didn’t know what it was caused by.
I felt as if I’d already condemned myself.
I let out a sigh, then another, and yet another, before sitting down on the sand and burying my hands in it.
You sat down across from me, watching me in silence. I couldn’t bear your gaze and felt uneasy. Stroking my face, you asked me what was wrong, and as I heard your voice—which I loved so much—I replied that for the first time in my life, I didn’t want my dreams to come true, and I burst into tears.
You felt tenderness for me and hugged me, whispering, “Little one, don’t be afraid! I want to convince you that I could never hurt you; remember that I am your nest? I’ll give you all the love you want, and only you will have it.”
Your words made me think. I wanted to make you happy; life had dealt you great suffering, and I wanted you to love it again. I realized that I, on the other hand, had been about to throw my life away before I even met you.
We reached the café and brought two half-coconuts filled with ice cream back to our room.
As we sat on the bed, one of my crazy ideas popped into my head.
I took a teaspoonful of ice cream, spread it on your lips, and then licked it off.
You liked the novelty so much that you immediately did the same thing.
But when you suggested I take my clothes off, I froze; I wasn’t ready to take the plunge, and I didn’t know how to tell you without upsetting you.
I chose to be honest, hoping you’d understand.
I explained that I was intimidated by new experiences in that area and that you’d have to be very patient with me.
I knew I wasn’t on your level, and for me, everything was a discovery.
I also apologized for being so awkward about it.
You replied that, on the contrary, you were happy about it and that we’d discover everything together, without rushing. I was happy to hear you say that. I hurried to finish my ice cream before you changed your mind, though, and then I undressed.
Devouring me with your eyes, you said, “Oh, you’re getting undressed now? Well, I’m not in the mood anymore.”
Is that really how you feel? I wondered resentfully.
I would have made you change your mind in a heartbeat.
However, I was realizing that with these jokes of yours, you were turning me into whatever you wanted me to be.
What really mattered to me was that I stay spontaneous and not do anything just to please you.
At that moment, I realized I wasn’t feeling very well.
I was getting a headache, and I didn’t know how to make you understand that it wasn’t an excuse.
I was so sorry, but when I had a sinus attack, I felt terrible.
I kept looking at you without saying a word, and you were doing the same.
I kissed you gently and told you I wasn’t feeling well.
But I hadn’t considered that you were a doctor, and you started asking me what was wrong, placing a hand on my forehead and checking my pulse; I felt like an idiot for not telling you the truth right away.
I confessed that I had a headache, and you simply expressed your regret with a contrite look before getting up and going out onto the porch.
It pained me to see you like that, but there was nothing I could do about it at that moment. The headache was becoming unbearable, so I decided to lie down on the bed and close my eyes. Luckily, I fell asleep right away, and when I woke up, it was late afternoon.
You weren’t there. How could I blame you?
I got dressed in a hurry and rushed out to look for you, but I didn’t know where to start. First, I went to the café and ordered a barley coffee. By then, the headache had gone away, but now my heart ached without you.
I went around to all the places I thought you might be, but I had no luck. The sun was setting, and I stopped near the pier to catch my breath.
Just then, a staff member walked by and asked me why I hadn’t gone to Sunrise Island too. That’s where you’d taken refuge.
I panicked, and suddenly realized I had to act fast: if I’d had that sudden headache, it meant a tropical storm was on its way. The sun was about to set, and you were 16 minutes away from Rihiveli. I grabbed a canoe and paddled as hard as I could in an attempt to reach you before nightfall.
I arrived at the little island just as the evening shadows were spreading across the lagoon.
I didn’t see any other canoes on the beach, and I wondered how that could be.
I doubted you’d swum there: it’s true that you’d learned to swim, but you wouldn’t have dared to go all the way to Sunrise on your own, even though the water was only about a meter and a half deep.
I circled the island, but had no better luck.
I looked toward the other little island, but it, too, seemed deserted.
By now I could hardly see anything, and I was starting to feel anxious.
I lay down on the sand and cried my eyes out.
I imagined all sorts of maritime tragedies—a rogue wave, a shark attack, a close encounter with a stonefish, a scorpionfish, or a stingray.
It was dark by then, and I could hear thunder in the distance; I knew I’d never make it back.
I was cold and had nothing to cover myself with.
Besides, at that hour the sharks had started hunting in the lagoon, and I would never have dared to go into the water alone.
I took refuge in the bungalow open on three sides, where at noon the Rihiveli staff would light the barbecue to cook the fish caught that morning on the reef. I felt scared and alone without you.
Suddenly, I heard the muffled sound of footsteps.
Panicked, I hid behind a counter and grabbed a knife; whoever it was, I would defend myself to the death if necessary.
I was in a Muslim country where rape wasn’t considered a crime, and that thought was tormenting me.
I saw a shadow approaching the extinguished barbecue, and my heart stopped.
I was terrified, but I was still ready to go from prey to predator: Dad’s belt lashes on my legs were paying off.
I’d been raised like a Marine, and I would have fought tooth and nail.
In moments of danger, I became a panther, and there was no way to get the better of me.
Just as I was devising a plan of attack, your frightened face peered over the counter.
I jumped to my feet, heightening your distress, and snapped at you: “I could have killed you for much less—what on earth were you thinking? You gave me such a fright that if I’d been pregnant, I would have lost the baby!”
I was beside myself. I wanted so badly to kill you, because you’d nearly killed me with pain.
I’d already imagined your flesh being torn apart in the jaws of some shark.
After my outburst, I began to cry uncontrollably; I didn’t want you to come near me.
I angrily hurled the knife at the trunk of a palm tree, missing you by a hair’s breadth.
You were stunned by my reaction and visibly remorseful.
Only one thing could have calmed me down, but I was too angry to even want it.
I walked toward the shore. The moon was rising, but it struggled to pierce the clouds that were rapidly thickening.
The wind was picking up, and soon the rain would be lashing down on the little island.
The only shelter was the shed, but I had no intention of going back there right now, since you were there.
I had already imagined myself a widow, even though you weren’t my husband.
I was in an extremely sad state of mind, and the thought of being without you crushed me so much that I felt physical pain.
I looked out at the expanse of the sea and wondered, with a sigh, if I would ever be completely happy.
I loved you to pieces, and that’s exactly why I was terrified of losing you.