11 The Sweetness of Doing Nothing #4
I wondered what I would do without you. Lost in my thoughts, I walked along the sand for a long time.
Even though I was angry, I missed you terribly, but I didn’t have the courage to go back to you after what I’d said.
A menacing clap of thunder made me change my mind and run for cover.
Meanwhile, you had arranged some palm fronds behind the counter and were lying on top of them—it looked like a nest. When you saw me coming, you made room for me without saying a word.
I sat in a corner with my back to you, my head resting on my knees.
Another clap of thunder, far louder than the last, prompted me to seek refuge in your arms, always ready to welcome your little troublemaker.
I stayed in that position for a long time.
I didn’t want to let go of you, but I had no intention whatsoever of speaking to you.
The thunder grew louder and louder, just like my love for you.
Thinking my anger had passed, you brought your lips close to mine.
I was tempted to kiss you, but I was still too scared by everything that had happened—and by how lost I’d felt without you. I pulled back slightly, and as I caressed your face, I bit my lip so hard that the tears that had begun to fall stung as they touched my mouth.
Alarmed, you said to me, “Honey, you’re bleeding!”
It was true, but the deepest wound wasn’t visible to the naked eye.
I’d nearly died of grief when I came looking for you, convinced I’d never find you.
I was angry with you because I loved you too much, but there was nothing I could do about it.
I knew you loved me deeply too, and I didn’t understand your behavior.
So I asked you to explain what had gotten into you.
Handing me a tissue to dab at the cut on my lip, you told me that you wanted to give me a sprig of pink coral, which is why you’d gone to the other deserted islet where it grew in abundance.
But when you returned to where you’d left the canoe, it was gone; apparently, you hadn’t dragged it far enough ashore to keep it from being swept away by the current.
So you’d panicked and, being careful, had waded back to the Sunrise.
When you finished your story, I felt immensely sorry for you.
I hugged you tightly to give you courage, but you slipped out of my embrace and asked me to wait: as if by magic, a sprig of pink coral blossomed in your hands.
It was the most beautiful gift you could have given me.
I noticed it had five branches and looked like a newborn’s little hand.
I gently took it from your hand, and you squeezed mine, whispering that you loved me and that you were very sorry for having unintentionally caused me pain.
You moved me to tenderness. You’d gotten yourself into trouble because of me, and I’d even treated you badly.
I wanted to start that evening all over again.
I wanted to suffer in silence from the headache and make love to you until morning.
I wanted to go back… but maybe it wasn’t too late; I just had to find the courage to tell you.
“Darling, you’re so lost in your thoughts; can I be a part of them too?” you asked me with such tenderness.
Here we go, I thought. It was only a matter of time. I knew that sooner or later I’d die of joy beside you. My heart was beating way too fast; I didn’t think it could take it. I was convinced of what I was thinking, so I decided to close my eyes and take refuge in your arms.
I wanted to quiet my mind, melt into you, and become part of your soul.
In a fit of mad desperation, I asked you to love me.
I longed to lose myself in you, to take refuge in the golden cage of your heart, and to throw away the key.
And it was at that moment that I saw it caught between your eyelashes.
It appeared shy, glistened in the light of a warm moon, then rolled through my hands and died on the sand.
It was a tear of love, a pearl enclosed in a form that reflected your wonderful soul. That night, I became yours forever.
Morning found us embracing, covered only by palm leaves.
A ray of sunlight struck us squarely in the face, making us groan and shield our eyes with our hands.
We were on Sunrise Island, the one behind which the sun rose.
And now, for us, it had become Loverise Island, the island where love was born.
We looked into each other’s eyes, wishing each other good morning.
Our lips brushed against each other, our hands sought each other out, and our stomachs growled.
We were incredibly hungry, and we still had time to have breakfast at Rihiveli.
After a quick kiss, we ran toward the canoe, racing to see who would reach it first.
I was almost there when you—very unfairly—grabbed my ankle, sending me tumbling all the way to the shore.
When you put your mind to it, you were worse than I was.
I got back up, seething with anger, but when I reached you, I just stood on tiptoe to give you a kiss.
I couldn’t stay mad at you for even a second.
My thoughts were always on the few days of paradise we still had left, and I tried in every way not to get sad; to do that, I had to stick to you like a leech.
You certainly didn’t complain about it, unaware of my state of mind.
We were back in Rihiveli in a few minutes, carried along by a favorable wind, and had breakfast at the café in the company of the parrot—the one you’d been trying in vain, ever since our first days there, to teach a few words of Italian.
After breakfast, we had a whole day to plan. If it were up to you, it would have been easy to spend it immersed solely in our passion, and I can’t say I wouldn’t have liked that, but I had a surprise in store for you.
Back in the room, we took a hot shower. When I saw you behind the glass, patiently waiting for your turn, I opened the door and, without a second thought, pulled you in with me.
Between the risk of suddenly slipping on the bar of soap—which had ended up on the floor for some unknown reason—third-degree burns from accidentally bumping into the hot-water knob, and shampoo poisoning from mixing it with our kisses,
we managed in less than an hour to rinse off the soap and wrap ourselves in a single towel.
Stumbling like drunks because the towel was too small to cover both of us, we made our way to the bed, turning the bedspread into a wet rag.
There was nothing we could do—it was stronger than us.
We were drawn to each other like magnets, and there was no way to pull apart once our bodies brushed against one another.
I wondered how we could possibly lead a “normal” life once we returned home.
I was already imagining the most unusual places where we could sigh together, and I started laughing, piquing your curiosity.
I didn’t feel like confessing the deepest desires you were inspiring in me, even though it would have been fun.
I pretended nothing was wrong, and you didn’t ask me anything; just seeing me happy was enough for you.
It was time for the surprise. After putting on our swimsuits and grabbing our beach towels, we made our way to the shore. I suggested we take a short walk, and you followed me, seeing nothing strange in my request.
When we arrived at the rental shop where you could rent canoes, catamarans, and other small boats, I walked over to the cabinet where fins, masks, life jackets, and wetsuits were available.
Feigning surprise, I pointed out a row of wetsuits and asked you to try on a few.
You asked me why I was making this odd request, which made no sense, since I’d already expressed a desire to go snorkeling.
I replied that I wanted to see, at least once in my life, what fish see several meters below the surface.
Since you didn’t respond, I dragged you over to try on some wetsuits, and before we knew it, we found ourselves wrapped in bright colors with tanks on our backs, ready for our first dive.
The instructor started explaining so many technical details that I decided it just wasn’t for me.
Once I’d freed myself from that bulky gear—which at times made it hard to breathe—I dove into the water, free from the heavy, cumbersome equipment that made me feel like a seal.
I immediately rediscovered the beauty of free-diving with my eyes open and swam back and forth between your legs, happy to be a fish again.
After bravely completing the dive test, you, in turn, decided to give up and mentally review what I’d taught you about swimming.
I noticed the progress you’d made: now you were even venturing a few meters out into deep water.
I got out and sat on the shore to watch you swim.
In truth, I was feeling a bit sad, but I didn’t want you to notice.
I was thinking that there were now only two days left until the end of the vacation, and soon I’d only be dreaming of that sun.
I wondered why good things always had to end.
I was plummeting into the abyss of sadness; I was in free fall and didn’t know when I’d come out of it.
I had to pull myself together; I had to do it for us.
As usual, the fear of losing you had gripped me once again.
I dreaded returning to everyday life, even though Rihiveli was, in fact, my reality.
Unfortunately, deep down, the dream was ending—and I was ending with it.
Once you went back, you’d gradually forget about me, until one day I wouldn’t hear from you anymore.