12 The Dream Continues
The bed was strewn with fragrant flower petals, and the geckos were snapping away with endless kisses.
That night we went through our entire repertoire.
It was like rewinding the tape. At times we even slowed things down, and at one point I even suggested playing it back in slow motion, making you laugh like crazy.
Serenity had returned. We were no longer afraid of having to leave paradise, because that experience had greatly enriched us from within, and we were certain that treasure would come with us.
On the morning of our last day in the Maldives, we were exhausted.
I’d open one eye and the other would close, while you had no intention of taking your hand off my breast.
Unfortunately, we had to get up, because there was only an hour left before our departure.
I climbed onto your body, pretending to scale a mountain, intending to shake you by tickling you, but you took it entirely the wrong way, and so we lingered for another half hour.
The ringing of the phone made us realize we had to hurry. We got ready in ten minutes and ran to the pier, where a small plane was waiting to take off.
Before boarding the glider, I wanted to bid farewell to paradise—and include you in the gesture. I took a handful of sand and let it slip over our heads as we kissed, promising we’d return as soon as possible.
We took off on time, and the pilot was so kind that he flew a loop around the lagoon before heading north.
The atolls rushed by beneath us, and in less than an hour we arrived at the airport.
After a series of security checks, we finally closed the doors of the VIP lounge behind us—a waiting area reserved for important travelers, a pleasant gesture that the Kuoni travel agency had arranged for us.
You stepped out for a moment to run an errand, while I began browsing through various international newspapers.
It was then that I learned, with horror, of the death of a German tourist attacked by sharks in Sharm el Sheikh, the Egyptian paradise for divers from all over the world.
Only then did I realize just how much we had risked because of my naivety.
You returned shortly afterward, beaming. As you approached, you kissed me passionately, placed a small golden package in my hand, and urged me to open it. Inside was a keychain set with a seashell.
I looked at you questioningly, and you, taking my hands in yours, looked me in the eyes and began to speak: “My love, these days with you have been the most beautiful of my life so far. Now the vacation is over, but not our adventure in life. I can’t promise you anything,
but I want to give us a chance. I’ve already called a friend in Italy so he can find a rental apartment where you can come on the weekends. We work in different towns, but at least we’ll be able to spend the weekends together. Let’s give it a try, my love—I won’t take no for an answer!”
I think that was the last time I cried.
I promised I’d give it a try; I didn’t want to lose you because of some silly distance.
Days of reflection lay ahead of me—reflecting on what I’d been through and hoping I’d never have to regret it. The search for a “safe haven” for my soul had begun the day I lost both my parents in an accident.
The only thing I’d done was return alone to my island to let my soul rest there.
This time, however, I felt I had managed to emerge from the den where I had taken refuge.
I had to rebuild my life, and I hoped to do so with you, but I didn’t want to think about it yet: I would do so when the warmth of the Maldivian sun was nothing more than a distant memory.