My prayers got answered. The clouds are gathering menacingly on the horizon. It's going to rain and there will be water. Yeah, plenty of water! In the distance, lightning is already slashing across the horizon. I can feel the wind picking up.
I unfasten the other life vest and try to rig it into some kind of bucket, but it doesn't really look like a bucket. Even so, I'm going to catch every single drop of rain and drink until I'm full.
Come on, rain, come on!
Water is pouring from everywhere. The tank is almost full, my improvised bucket is full and hanging from a branch, my belly is full too, almost about to burst from how much water I've managed to drink.
This warm rain has been going for two days and it's not showing any signs of getting tired. That's wonderful.
Less wonderful is that the big waves are roaring and they've wrecked all our traps. Goodbye, fish!
The wind is so insane it flipped the shade over and threw it far away, into the surf.
I've got nothing to do. I sit quietly on the sand and let the water run in streams over my head, then down my back. There's nowhere to hide from either the rain or the lightning.
I open one eye and, amused, I see Eva off to my left, terrified of the forces of nature. That little creature sprawled on the sand, shaking like a leaf, isn't Eva anymore. With every thunderclap, her thin, fragile body bounces up like a ball. Maybe I'd laugh, if the show didn't look so pathetic.
Why is she so scared? A lightning bolt is a lot more merciful than a shark.
Her problem. Let her be scared, Tiberiu. It's time she paid in full for all the crap she's put you through these last few days.
"Are you scared of lightning, Eva?"
Pointless. She can't hear me over the wind.
I get up and run up and down the beach like a dog off its leash. The rain's on my heels. I race the waves and run all the way around the island.
"Yee-haw! Woo-hoo-hooo! It's a-ma-zing! Thank you, God!"
I love the rain and the lightning--I've fallen in love with them. The warm monsoon drops wash both my body and my soul and, after all that running, I feel clean and fresh like a newborn. I go back to Eva and flop down on the wet sand.
I'm tired, but happy.
"Look around you!" I shout, drunk on it. "Look how beautiful it is, Eva!"
Every lightning flash lights up everything around us. The landscape suddenly looks submerged in a milky white glow.
I bolt away from Eva and throw myself into the water. I splash around in the raging waves, then I come out and roll in the beach sand until I'm dizzy and collapse in a heap. I go back to Eva and tell her, panting:
"You know what I love most about this island? You can't drown. You can go really far from shore and you'll still be in knee-deep water. The water doesn't drop off suddenly. It doesn't scare you. For like a hundred paces from the shore, you can't drown even if you want to."
"I'm glad you're glad!" she screams with a face twisted up in fear. "Do you like this too?" she asks, and points at the beach.
The waves have pushed deep onto the shore, bitten hard into the beach, and washed everything out. The whole place is transformed. I look at the beach, then at the girl, and I can't believe how small she suddenly looks. She's so scared. She's got the eyes of a child.
"Jesus, Eva, look at your face! If you could see yourself... Girl, why are you so terrified of lightning?"
Eva starts crying and my good mood melts on the spot. I lift her up and wipe the sand grains off her face.
"Come here! Come on, come on... Don't cry."
I hold her tight, tilt her face up toward me, and I see her black, terrified eyes clearly.
"What a kid you are! It's just lightning."
Every time it thunders, she clings to me even harder.
"It won't last much longer!" I shout into her ear. "By the way, Happy New Year! Today's January first, dear Eva. Happy New Year! Any plans for the new year?"
Her mouth tries to say something, but I can't hear a thing. I only watch her lips moving. I'm fascinated by these small lips. The way they move without a sound puts a spell on me.
Without realizing what I'm doing, I lower my own lips and meet hers. Her lips taste salty. I taste them. Yeah, they're salty.
Eva puts her palm on my chest and gently pushes me away.
"No."
Ah, God, how I hate the rain! What the fuck? It's raining day and night.
Even Eva's gotten used to the lightning and the thunder and all this noise. She forgot her fear and started walking around the beach like she doesn't care. Every now and then she still flinches when the thunder cracks too close.
She comes up to me, sits down on the sand, and says:
"Cut it out already!"
"But I didn't do anything!" I protest.
Eva wags a finger at me and says, with a very serious face:
"Stop acting like a kicked dog. Stop making that face and stop avoiding me."
"I'm not avoiding you," I snort, annoyed. "Where'd you even get that?"
"I'm not blind, Tiberiu. Is it really that important to you?"
"Important--what?" I ask, looking down. "I've got no idea what you're talking about."
Eva sighs and says nothing else. She sits quietly next to me and watches the waves.
"Fine," I say at last. "Here's the deal... No means no! I can understand that. Let's close this chapter. It's embarrassing."
"And it's embarrassing for me to watch you all day, looking at me like a kicked dog. If you really need to kiss me, here--go ahead... I'll let you kiss me, but you promise you'll go back to normal afterward."
I can feel the revolt building in me. I give her a cold look.
"I wouldn't kiss you even if you were the last woman left after a nuclear apocalypse! I don't even like you. You're a freak of nature. Mean and tiny. And since we're on the subject, where have you ever seen a blonde German girl with black eyes? You're a genetic accident."
"Ha, ha! Seriously?"
"Dead serious! Me, kiss you? You're making me laugh."
"I'm glad you're not mad at me," she says, smiling. "Still, you've got something to be mad about, don't you?"
"Well, of course I do! It's January third. This rain's been going for almost a week! You know what I think? I've got a bad feeling the rainy season has started in this part of the world. These poor yellow-skinned people only get two seasons: one rainy, one dry."
Toward afternoon, I manage to fool a little fish, but I can't cook it. No way I can make a fire. Everything around us is soaked.
I take the fish, clean it, split it open, and give Eva her half. Mmm, it may be small, but it tastes good.
"So... what's your deal?" I ask her, chewing. "Why are you so terrified of lightning?"
"Aren't you scared of it?"
She looks down, lost in thought.
"I'm not scared," I tell her honestly. "Why would I be? A million volts through your brain isn't the worst death. It's simple: BAM! and you're down. Electricity can be a blessing, sometimes."
Eva stares at me for a long time and looks a little hostile, then she suddenly asks:
"What's your first memory? I mean your very first, your oldest memory. What is it?"
"Oh, nothing special," I answer, and I drift off. "My first memory? Hmm... I think I was about four. Why?"
"Okay. Tell me."
I try to shake my memory loose. What the hell got into her?
"Yeah, I was about four. Uhh... I remember I was in the bathroom, at my parents' house. I was alone. My dad was pouring concrete outside, trying to make a little walkway. My mom... I think she was cooking something, or I don't know. Anyway, I was all alone in there, in the bathroom, holding onto the sink with my little hands. I was looking up."
"Why?"
"I was thinking it would be absolutely wonderful if I could reach the window that was open right above me."
"And did you reach it?"
"In the end, yeah. I was a creative kid as early as four. I grabbed the sink, climbed up on the edge of the bathtub, put one little foot on the soap dish in the wall, and pushed myself up. The window was right above me. Victory! My hands were on the sill of that wide-open window."
"And?"
"After that it was simple. I went out the window headfirst and landed straight on my head on the concrete. I told myself, 'Hey, this is my first memory!' and then I passed out."
Eva looks at me, amused.
"So you fell on your head when you were little?"
"Uh-huh."
"That explains a lot," she says, her eyes sparkling.
"Maybe," I answer, sulking. "But you, girl--what's your oldest memory?"
"Are you sure you want to know?"
"I'm not sure, but you'll probably tell me anyway. That's why you asked, right? So I'd ask you too. Fine. I'm asking."
"You're right," she says, smiling. "My first memory has to do with electricity and household appliances."
I was only three, but I remember it so clearly it feels like it happened yesterday. We were in a huge store, with lots of aisles and shelves. All kinds of merchandise and machines were there.
I was sitting in the cart, facing my parents, and my dad was pushing it gently, talking with my mom.
"What?"
"Tiberiu... I was three years old. How would I know?"
"Sorry! Keep going."
"I remember my mom. My mom was a very beautiful woman and my dad had eyes only for her. They were looking straight into each other's eyes. I also remember that that day my mom was wearing a very pale yellow dress."
"Like lemon?"
"Exactly like lemon. Oh, my mom looked wonderful and I loved her. My dad, though, I barely paid attention to."
"Oh, come on! How do you remember that? You were only three."
"I remember everything. Both my parents were cheerful and in a great mood that day, and I was completely stunned by everything I saw around me--all the products, refrigerators, vacuum cleaners, televisions. It felt like I'd landed in Wonderland. Those different, shiny colors pulled me in. I kept reaching out with my little hands and signaling my dad to take me here, take me there."
"You're really lucky! That's a great memory. Your dad loved you a lot, didn't he? You felt loved?"
"Yes. I really did. My dad was crazy about me and I could feel how much he loved me. He would've bought the whole store for me if I'd asked him to."
Anyway. That day my parents only bought a washing machine and, not long after, it was delivered to our home. They sent it on a truck from the store.
The guys in overalls carefully set the washing machine in the corner of the kitchen. They took the old one with them and left.
I remember all of it because I had a very good observation post. I was strapped in like a princess on a high chair in the kitchen. The chair had a harness. It was bought especially for me and built in such a way that I couldn't have fallen out even if I wanted to.
My mom was feeding me a sweet, tasty puree, but I kept pushing the spoon away with my little hands and I was all eyes and ears, staring at the washing machine and at my dad, who was tinkering around it. He was happy and talking nonstop. I heard him say something to my mom. He was probably telling her everything was fine or something like that.
Then my dad came over to me, cheerfully took the spoon from my mom's hand, and started feeding me and talking to me.
At the age I was, I didn't really understand everything that was happening in that moment, but I had eyes, and my brain took it all in.
After he put clothes into the machine, he closed the lid, then he pressed one of those buttons. At that moment, I saw my mom jolt. She dropped as if she'd been cut down, with her hands stuck tight to the washing machine. Her body was shaking in silence.
To me, what was happening looked funny and entertaining, so I giggled and pointed at my mom.
My dad turned his head, confused, and screamed, then he threw the spoon with the puree. It hit the tile with a little clink.
It didn't even last a blink. When my dad grabbed my mom's body, I saw his legs buckle all at once. He dropped next to her, jaw clenched. They stayed there, down on the floor, holding each other.
I've got that image burned into my eyes. I see both of them. I see the embrace. It's stamped into me.
I was strapped into that high chair, otherwise I probably would've run over there too and hugged them. I thrashed. I started crying. Neither of them paid any attention to me.
By evening, my screams had the whole building alarmed. I was hoarse from crying. After forever, someone broke the door down, lifted me out of my chair, squeezed me in their arms, and carried me out of there. That's my first memory. It could explain why I don't like lightning. Electricity scares me."
Eva doesn't say anything else, and I feel like the most awkward man on this whole island.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"Don't be. You've got no reason. They're just memories! Maybe I shouldn't have told you that." Then Eva suddenly looks up and exclaims: "Well, look at that! The rain stopped."