The Last Canvas

episode 10 | Bed for one

*****

Not until late afternoon did Armand and I finish lunch. We had a lot to talk about and catch up for the months gone by, since we had last seen each other, after we had graduated from the École. He was the one doing most of the talking, while I listened not just politely, but with eager interest. And I was the one doing most of the eating, so that my mouth was busy and full, too. I was starving from swimming, and compelled to scrape my plate and the bowl with vegetarian pasta Armand had cooked so well. 

Having acquired two tables and four chairs from a restaurant that was closing down at the Elder Sisters Islands, Armand had recreated a bistrot atmosphere that was so familiar and dear to us. Not that we would frequent them, since I never had the money for such, but they everywhere in the Parisian neighborhood where we lived. Despite the sea being just a few steps downstairs, and though Armand was not talking about an exhibition or a play but instead of long journeys on trains or trucks to the remotest villages in Asia, his voice did muffle the gentle breaking of wavelets, its cadence immersing us in the timeless and motionless bubble of seclusion where our friendship happened.

"But now I want to invite you to go to the movies..." He smiled secretively, standing up and offering me his hand, that still smelled from the aromatic spices he had used in cooking, his fingers colored from a dark red powder he had called Tandoori masala. "Let's go back to the beach, mon cher Carlo!"

"Movie... what movie?" An invitation that was so familiar sounded odd. Going to the Cinematéque Française had been one of our best loved activities during the École... How many hours had we spent watching movies, and how many more discussing them? But on that forsaken island?

"You'll see." Armand smiled, as he took me by the arm and led me towards the stairs. "Can you close your eyes until I tell you to open them again? Do you trust me?" He asked, gently swiping his hand across my face, in a caress closing my eyelids.

Armand guided me down the stair, and across the sand, cool under the house and very warm once we left the shadow of the building. I abandoned myself to my other senses, that I usually reputed as less important for a painter, surrendering to my friend's hands, guidance and proximity. "One more minute, we are almost there." He murmured. Armand was walking slowly, zigzagging through the bushes, so that I could easily keep the pace and not feel intimidate by walking blinded on an unknown island. 

"This is it, mon cher Carlo." Armand whispered, as we stopped. "I hope you'll enjoy it."

I gasped as I opened my eyes. A couple minutes had passed since I had closed them, but now everything was ravishingly illuminated by the golden setting sun. The orange sphere was on its route to touch the far away horizon, and either reluctant or enjoying itself, the sun made a very slow descent. Time, I had already noticed, had a different pace on the island. And I sensed one of the reasons was the miraculous light, infinitely beautiful and spiritual, that not only engulfed all things, but penetrating their core, transmuted matter into soul.

"Armand, do you want to swim towards the sun?" Mesmerized, I did not turn to look at my friend, as I invited him. "I think I have to! Like I saluted him this morning, I want now to say farewell..."

Armand mumbled. "Actually, I had something else in mind." He hesitated. We were standing right at the shore, and the water teased our toes. "You know, it's not just a single movie. It's more like a film festival on this island." He was smiling, probably recalling the Cannes Festival editions he had been an habitué to, since his teenage years. "I'll wait for you here, then. Don't be long, okay?"

"Okay." What else could I say? I was not sure I had understood the film festival part, but I did not want to contradict my friend. "It'll be just a minute!" Though I actually planned to stay in the sea until the sun disappeared, sunk in the water.