The Last Canvas

episode 10 | Bed for one

"Grazie, Dio." I had started praying once inside the water, taking in the grandiose, transcendental scenery of the Indian Ocean that surrounded me. The water and the currents were gentler than in the morning -- perhaps, I had just begun to befriend them. They seemed to have direct access to my bones and blood, as if my muscles and flesh were a thinner membrane than I believed. "Thank you, Universe. Thank you, Life." I sensed I was swimming through life itself, immersed in its origin, progressing on a golden path that led me not just towards the horizon -- but into a brighter future. "Whatever name or form you take, thank you for keeping me alive until this moment." I then said it loud, though not enough that Armand could hear me, but as if Someone else was listening to me. "Thank you. Grazie."

Just then, I heard Armand shouting from the beach. "Carlo! The other session is about to begin! Please come!"

Armand almost dragged me out of the water, and urged me to run to the other side of the island -- which meant no more than a hundred meters away. He indicated the lounge chairs with a bow, like the classiest usher would, and took his place next to me. And that was it? Had I been hijacked to stare into the empty horizon? As I silently sat there with my friend, our backs turned to the most beautiful sunset I had ever witnessed, I have to confess I was greatly disappointed. Why sit on a chair, as if we were back in a Parisian park, when I could celebrate my first sunset on the Île du Blanchomme swimming in the Indian Ocean? 

My best friend was certainly committed to being the best host, and so I should try to be the best guest. But staring at an empty sky seemed pointless to me, while a spectacle took place behind us. The first stars blinked, okay. I had seen them from the cargo ship. The sky displayed shades of blue I could not reproduce myself. Okay, that was a lesson I could learn. Unless it was another meditation technique Armand was trying to teach me...

Then I saw it.

An enormous full moon rose slowly over the ocean. The silvery sphere, like a heavily loaded balloon slowly detaching itself from Earth, left an oscillating triangular path of crystal bright crests over the ocean, stretching from the horizon to the shore where it reached the feet of our lounge. I was paralyzed, oddly holding tight onto the arms of the chair, as if gravity was leaving the planet, too, with the departing moon. I felt my heart swell, and tears came to my eyes.

I shouldn't have doubted my friend.

If there was one other person that, like me, cherished his privacy, it was Armand de Montbelle. That was the base for our getting along so well -- we understood each other's need to recharge in solitude. As roommates in Paris, we had respected each other's seclusion like it were an indisputable religious belief. 

It was thus such an unique privilege to have been invited to his private hideaway. Because he was princely, enormously polite, he had himself found me an excuse to be there -- that he needed my help "to refurbish the place". But I knew it wasn't true. He could have brought the workers he wanted from Europe; he did not have to depend on the locals -- or me -- for his well being.

I needed him, much more than he needed me. He had always been the generous, loving part of our brotherhood. Paying for the rent and the food, being supportive, patient and kind. What could I possibly have given him in exchange? "You give me the wonderful opportunity to help and to share, and I'm so thankful to you", he once had told me.

After all those months of hardship, the deep and essential detachment I had experimented on the ship, suddenly I felt that I again belonged. 

To that friendship.

I had arrived. For the first time in years, I felt I had found a home, where I knew I was welcome.

"Fratello mio..." I liked calling him brother, especially since I was an only and orphaned child. "This has been one of the most beautiful days in my entire life! I cannot thank you enough..." I stood up, and like the shy boy I had been, waited until Armand raised from the chair, too, to embrace him.