Blindspots

For three months had Carol been working at that resort on the other side of the island; it had helped putting something else on her mind, and she already looked so much better since the accident last winter. What a mess she was then! We thought--I thought--that we could accept the loss like adults, but how was I to understand the suffering when a young life was taken from us before it had even breathed in this world, and before we could give it the chance to thrill and experience all the beauties in this world--when it was her womb that bore the mortal burden and then witnessed its untimely demise?

Too much had been spent and sacrificed in making our miracle happen, and it would be near impossible to start again. I knew Carol blamed herself for the loss, for it was while she was on stage performing her favorite role, holding the evil dagger as Lady Macbeth, that the miscarriage happened. I tried my best to help her see things differently, but the void in her heart grew larger and her mood deteriorated daily, until one night I almost lost Carol too, had I not returned home earlier than usual.

Our moving away from the dismal lakeside metropolis proved to be a most fortunate decision. What a lovely refuge this island was! Carol slept better than ever at night despite the air conditioner in our motel room sounding like an old tractor. She loved hearing those birds every morning when she left for work--so many of them just kept bickering in their pleasant grove! With Carol gone for the day, I would ride around places and contemplate my next book while hiking along the less-traveled trails. The island being a generally safe haven from both human and wildlife hazards made me fear little when traveling alone.

The work at the resort was stressful, and often Carol was left in a wrecked state at the end of a day, too spent to start any real intimacy with me. She used to lock herself in the bathroom after her return, and I remembered leaning against the door and singing her favorite songs, until eventually she felt better and came out, and we would embrace, and kiss those hot tears away from each other's cheeks. I often worried that she might hurt herself again, but as time went on, Carol really seemed to get better, and nowadays she would return from work with a most heightened spirit, as if regretting to have left too early. I was glad that she had found meaning in what she did again, even if it might not her real passion.

There were moments, however, when I had an uneasy feeling--that beneath her wholesome appearance, Carol was hiding something from me. She avoided talking about her work, and was at times even mildly vexed, when it was nothing more than a mere curiosity on my part to ask. Her body also seemed to take on unexplainable changes too. Carol was long known to have a notoriously placid sex drive, but now I found her to be so eager at times, that a soft tender kiss on her nipples would have sent her lady parts all moist. Such things perplexed me, but I knew better than to obsess over them. Perhaps the tropical climate was naturally favorable, though I sure wished such wonderful effect was as apparent on me as it was on Carol.

Whenever Carol left me for those long nightshift duties I would leave a light on for her, knowing that the next morning she would be by my side again, deep in her tired but content slumber. After such nights she would be allowed a break, and we would head to our secret cove not far from the motel. It was a quiet spot infrequently visited by tourists, and most of time we were left alone by ourselves. Carol and I would frolic and caress each other in the chilly blue water until the sunset sent its golden rays dancing upon the gentle waves. She looked truly happy and carefree in these moments, just like when I first met her.

Afterwards, we would skip dinner and make love right on the coffee-stained rug like two horny teenagers, until the warm light outside dimmed to a complete darkness through the thinly-drawn blinds. The pleasant weather had restored our libido: her blindspot was hypersensitive to my touch, and mine to hers. Afterwards I would call for pizza while Carol laid languidly in the chair near the dressing table, sweaty and short of breath. I could tell she was thoroughly pleased by the way she stole glances at me in the mirror like a bashful maiden. Those intimate moments, though ephemeral, had me convinced that the long and dark winter was at last behind us.

Today was our ten-year anniversary and Carol was sorry she had to work the whole night again (it being a very important night, for her particularly, was her words), though she promised to make up to us tomorrow. We parted on good terms, but as the day wound down I decided that I couldn't wait another day to relive our consummation, and I had just the perfect excuse to visit her at work. This morning Carol had been feeling a little unwell (she threw up in a bad way), and I wanted to make sure she hadn't eaten anything funny again at the resort (she insisted that it was not food poisoning, but ). Plus, I was sure Carol would love it when she saw those adorable yellow roses I found at the local florist's.

I rode my way along the shore, stopping occasionally to admire the brilliance of the water. When I arrived at the resort the night had quite fallen. Carol once told me the guests here were some very prominent and discreet people ("like us?" I joked and made her giggle so bad). Perhaps it was the surrounding darkness, the buildings seemed so much larger than the last time I was here, when I was accompanying Carol for her job interview--it felt so long ago already! The elaborate garden looked like a maze with only entrance but no exit. Not wanting to linger in this darkness, I headed inside the main hall.

There the front desk greeted me and asked if I was here for tonight's auction. The question was posed in a peculiar tone, as if it were an insider code that I was expected to crack with ease, and my apparent failure to do so seemed to invite their immediate scorn. I explained to them that I had come to see my wife, who worked at the resort. At first, they pretended not to know a Carol at this establishment, but after I produced her full name, they grudgingly located her in the system, somehow under a different alias. It amused me that Carol had to act so inconspicuously, but she may have her reasons; after all, Carol had acquired a certain reputation as a small-time actor and might have wanted to avoid being recognized, even in this corner of the world.

I was sadly informed that the person I sought was not available at this moment, but if I really wanted to see her I should attend tonight's auction. When asked what was being auctioned, they refused to specify and instead kept judging me in that curious and suggestive gaze, which I found most irritating. Still I kept my composure and paid for the admission ticket, only partially understanding what they meant between the lines.

Perhaps Carol was part of the staff running the auction; if so, she would be pleasantly surprised to find a charismatic woman in the back row eagerly making eyes at her. We could later grab a drink at the resort lounge after I showed her the flowers--they must have a fine lounge here! I was counting on getting her real drunk tonight so she could get off from work. We'll open a room here with a king-sized bed, and... Seriously, she needed to learn how to take a break now and then, or the work would just consume her again.

As I left for that enigmatic auction, I heard giggles coming from the front desk. I didn't mean to be patronizing but I just couldn't put up with these small-town personalities! What part of a woman being married to another did they find so funny? Of course I was too broke to actually bid on any of their pricy artwork, but I guessed they already knew that.