11 The Sweetness of Doing Nothing #5
I rolled onto my stomach on the sand, resting my head on my folded arms, and began to cry silently.
The sand slipped through my fingers, and with it, the will to fight for a love that was almost impossible.
You had a busy social life, while I had only you.
I waved at you to make you feel my closeness, even as I secretly continued to shed tears.
You hadn’t yet realized the drama that was slowly consuming me.
You came out of the water, and I welcomed you with my towel spread out.
I avoided looking at you so you wouldn’t realize I’d been crying.
I knew full well what was tearing me apart, but I couldn’t tell you.
I realized the dream was coming to an end; you truly loved me, but only as long as we were in Rihiveli could you devote yourself exclusively to me.
Once we left that paradise, I didn’t want to delude myself any longer.
To you, I was the dream, and that’s what I would remain: a dream to be brought out every now and then, just long enough not to forget it.
On the way back, however, you noticed that something was wrong with me, because my hand in yours was motionless, as if it had lost all life.
While you were taking a shower, I started packing my suitcase; there wasn’t much time left, so I might as well wrap things up there.
To cheer myself up a bit, I put on my favorite jogging outfit—white shorts and a tank top with pink trim—and went out for a run along the shore.
I ran all the way around the island, leaving behind the footprints of my bare feet and an imperceptible trail of tiny dots: warm, desperate tears.
When I got back to the bungalow, I saw you swaying in the hammock.
I stopped, leaning against a palm tree, and tried to imagine what my life would be like without you.
I felt drained of all emotion and completely useless; at the same time, I felt you were far away, as if you were slipping back into the messages and chats of the past with which you’d kept me company for months until I’d fallen hopelessly in love.
Now I felt I was nothing anymore, except your shadow.
Whenever I felt sad, I’d start thinking about the most negative things possible, and if no one intervened, I was capable of convincing myself of them so completely that I’d let myself starve to death.
I’d spent my childhood and adolescence in that state.
My mother believed that if she ignored me, it would pass; she never understood, however, that in those moments I was going through a crisis of love withdrawal.
Finally, you saw me and spread your arms wide, ready to hold me close to your chest. I ran to you, happier than ever, holding back my tears.
“My sweetest love, I missed you,” you said, showering me with kisses until I was exhausted.
But when you pressed your lips against mine, I started crying again, and between sobs I managed to tell you that I loved you so much, begging you never to leave me.
“My love, I’ll never make you suffer—I promise,” you told me with a worried look.
You were realizing just how much love I needed, and it was a new situation for you.
I’d managed to find my way into your heart with my simplicity, but I hadn’t done it on purpose.
No one had ever taken the time to listen to me, but you did right away, as if you’d been waiting your whole life to meet someone who thought exactly like you about everything.
I believed that if we’d met, there had to be a very specific meaning to it.
The sun was setting only to rise again in the other hemisphere; we were being reborn together.
That evening, at dinner, I barely touched my food.
It felt like the Last Supper, so much so that I already felt crucified.
You’d tried in a thousand ways to keep me from thinking that this was the last time we’d have dinner together on the island and that our final night in that paradise awaited us, but whenever you brought up the subject, I’d unconsciously bite my tear-stained lip.
After dinner, you led me down the beach to kiss me under the stars.
There was no moon that evening—it was a new moon—so the stars seemed more numerous. I had the distinct feeling that it was some sort of night of miracles. There was something magical in the air, and sensing deep inside that something wonderful was about to happen, I felt a little comforted.
You were so affectionate with me. Holding my hand, you caressed my fingers, and I don’t know if I felt a tickling sensation or an indescribable pleasure.
The next day we were supposed to get up early.
The plane was scheduled to take off at 11:00 a.m., and it would take at least two hours to get to the airport.
That thought gave me a fantastic idea: we could take a glider and enjoy our last few tropical hours between the sea and the sky.
As soon as we got back to the bungalow, I called the front desk, and they confirmed that we could change the mode of transportation that would take us to Malé.
The good news lifted my spirits, and I jumped into your arms, laughing, knocking you onto the bed.
We hugged each other happily, and a look full of love did the rest.
It was our last night in the Maldives.