6/12/13

CLOSE YOUR EYES
By Patricia Storbeck


Isabella will never forget Nick’s parting words four months ago. Leaving on an assignment to the Galápagos, he hugged her, whispered; “Goodbye my love”, and left without a backward glance.

This morning, when Isabella opened the shutters, light flooded into the apartment, and so did Nick. He stood in the Jardin du Campanin, next to the fountain; in which a little boy played with his toy boat. A roguish smile played at the corners of his mouth; he wore a wrinkled cobalt blue button down shirt, faded jeans rolled up over his ankles and had his Leica slung around his neck.

Nick said; “Un café et croissant, my darling girl.”

“Oui, monsieur.”

“Let’s go sailing, Isabella, let’s go and dance on the waves.”

Laughing, Isabella ran down the steps; flung her arms around him and kissed his warm mouth.

“Only if you have champagne on board.”

“You know I have.”

“And ice cream?”

The light breeze barely filled the sails and Nick trimmed them as best as he knew how, he then left the helm, allowing the boat to follow the wind. He knew, like people, boats need to find their own rhythm, their own course to sail.

The air was fragrant with orange blossom, jasmine and roses. The hills were covered in citrus orchards. Isabella loved the Côte d’Azur and the tiny village she lived in, on the border between France and Italy. The azure sky was perfect for the seascapes she painted.

Gulls wheeled in the sky and land receded. Isabella and Nick, both lost in thought, feared that talking would mar the moment.

Distant islands appeared on the horizon. Emerald vegetation shimmered in the haze where tall mountain peaks wore circlets of clouds. The deck was hot under bare feet. Rivulets of sweat poured down bare limbs.

Sipping from her tall glass, the bubbles making love in the golden liquid, she watched Nick over the rim. He too, seemed lost in thought, squinting against the bright sun.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Said Isabella.
He smiled and kissed her shoulder in answer.

They anchored the boat in a deserted cove, as the sun slipped behind the cliff, painting the sky in orange, rose, magenta, vermillion and minutes later a deep violet. The moon appeared, pregnant with promise, dreams and hopes. The sky was packed white with stars. The only sound the gentle lap of water against the wooden hull.

They ate fat green olives tasting of rosemary and sage; sipped wine, a translucent rosé, with hints of sweet berries and citrus; Ile de France brie, rich and creamy, and for dessert, vanilla ice cream.

Sated they fell back on bean bags, star gazed and failed to identify constellations; laughed at their ignorance and realized how insignificant and fleeting life is, and love.

Nick then tilted her face with his fingertips and kissed her forehead. Kissed her in his special intimate way. Isabella drinking in his never-forgotten, warm masculine smell.

Lifting anchor, they sailed home, guided by the moonlight; a stairway to heaven. They talked about inconsequential things and kissed. Nick wrapped her in his arms, buried his face on her hair. Isabella cried, not with her body, just with her eyes. The tears were hot, as they slipped off her cheeks like the rain off a polished deck.

Lights appeared on the horizon. They were returning to reality, to a world demanding their attention again.


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Patricia Storbeck is from South Africa and loves to travel, together with her husband, on their yacht Mojito. Dancing on the waves of life as she sails along the edge of heaven.
Sharing bits of wisdom and art through words and photography.