"Eventually, something will come up," I tell Eve. "Surely, something will come up."
Together, we've decided to keep watch over the horizon every day. I'll keep watch on this side of the island, she on the other. But after only an hour, Eve returns.
"Something will come up," I repeat. "You just have to be patient and watch carefully. Go."
"Nothing will come up," she whines, disappointed. "Isn't it boring enough that we're on a deserted island? Now I have to spend the whole day staring at waves."
"It's in your best interest," I explain, adopting a wise tone.
"I feel like I'm going crazy!" she groans. "Nothing ever happens here. And when it does, it's always something bad. Like that storm that destroyed all our traps and ripped my umbrella and tossed it out to sea. Just like that!"
She sits beside me, pressing her face against my left arm. I look at her pouty face, like that of a whimsical child, and calmly say:
"That storm wasn't a bad thing. It brought us water. But water won't last forever. We must," I stress, "we absolutely must find a way to leave this place."
"Fine, fine," she agrees, conciliatory. "I'll keep watch too, but with you. I'm tired of talking to myself. I don't like being alone. Haven't you noticed?"
"What?"
"That in all the books and movies about shipwrecks on a deserted island, the character always has someone or something to keep them company. There's always a book, a dog, a parrot, a gorilla, or at least a rat on that island. I have you."
"Very flattering, Eve! Oh, yes... now I feel much better."
"Don't make that sulky face," Eva scolds me, then sighs and adds, "Why are you always so grumpy? Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't have been better if I had ended up on this island with Dr. Baumgartner. He was a very talkative guy."
"Or with the pilot, right?" I ask, laughing.
"Yes, with the Frenchman. That would've been fine too."
I laugh heartily, lying back on the sand.
"What's so funny?" she asks. "The pilot seemed like a decent guy. And when it comes to men, I suppose there's always room for improvement."
I abruptly stop laughing. What does she mean by "there's always room for improvement"? I feel myself getting annoyed, but I try not to show it.
"Yes," I reply, looking at her somewhat mockingly, "there's always room for improvement. I'm sure it would have been very interesting to be stranded on this island with our French pilot."
"Isn't it?" she nudges me, giggling.
"Yeah, especially since he was very well-endowed. You know what 'room for improvement' means in his case? He would've broken your back. I'm not kidding. Probably would've destroyed all your internal organs."
"What are you saying?" she asks wide-eyed. "Was he really that big? Oh, what I missed!"
"Yeah. Be careful what you wish for."
"But how did you happen to see Jean-Louis's... you know... if I may ask indiscreetly? Did you accidentally see it in the cock... pit? You spent quite a long time there."
I briefly recount the incident between me and Jean-Louis on Liberty Beach. Eva looks at me as if I'm spinning tales. I conclude:
"The man had a giant thing between his legs, perfect for killing women."
"Are you exaggerating?"
"Not at all. It was huge!" I say, gesturing with my hands. "Like this."
Eva bursts into laughter, then raises a finger, her face suddenly lit up with an idea:
"Wait a minute, Tiberiu! There's another scenario you haven't considered."
"And what would that be?"
"The scenario where I drowned, and you ended up on the island with Jean-Louis."
"But you're completely insane!" I shout. "Jesus, you have a downright sick imagination!"
"Scary, isn't it?"
"Cut it out! I feel a cold sweat coming on already."
"Still," she says thoughtfully, setting the joke aside, "I can't help but think it would've been a very interesting experience if Jean-Louis were here instead of you."
"Yes, if you like to die young. Believe me, you wouldn't have lived to see twenty-six!"
Eva laughs like a hyena, but I don't find the turn of the conversation amusing at all. Oh, damn it! That cursed Jean-Louis decided to haunt me even beyond the grave. Him and his baseball bat.
"And," she says, blushing, "how did you come to the conclusion that it was huge? Compared to yours?"
"What?" I retort sharply. "Are you implying mine is small? Is that what you're insinuating?"
"I was just asking," she says, batting her eyelashes. "Is it small? You should know that. Have you seen others?"
I look at her contemptuously. What stupid questions!
"Well," I say, bored, "find out that it's not small. I have a normal penis, like a normal man. As for knowing that... yes, I admit, I've seen others. I've been in the army, and when you're in the army, you can't help but see. Do you know what it's like to take a shower in a room with sixty other men? If you're not blind, you end up seeing... all sorts of things. It's not a pretty sight. You see long penises, short penises, curved like a sickle, thick penises, thin penises. It makes me sick just thinking about it."
"Yes, horrible!" she says, showing her white teeth.
"Not pleasant at all," I confirm, shaking my head. "Believe me. And I remember sometimes we didn't even need soap in that shower room. There weren't enough showers on the ceiling. You had to squeeze through everywhere to find a trickle of warm water. If you think about it, after you moved from one corner of the room to another, you were already soaped up from left and right, covered in suds from head to toe. And if you were unlucky, the hot water would suddenly run out, and you'd stay like that. It happened to me more than once."
"What a horrible thing!" she says with a serious face.
"Very horrible, believe me! The army wasn't a pleasant experience."
"And yet," she adds, batting her eyelashes, "I think I would've liked to be there too. Why are you grinning?"
"I wasn't grinning," I say with my mouth ear to ear. "Just smiling."
"You were grinning."
"Okay, I was grinning."
"What's so amusing? Yes, I repeat: I would've liked to be there too."
I look at Eva. Even though she's petite, she's still a woman through and through. A true and well-proportioned woman. Graceful. I admit to myself that it's a big deal for a woman to have grace. It happens rarely enough.
Every time I see her throw her clothes off and dive into the waves, I can't help but admire her slender and graceful body, the curve of her firm buttocks, and her cheeky and beautiful breasts like two ripe apples.
Suddenly, I realize that I really like her, I like everything about her. Everything! Even the way she sways her hips when she walks. Even the way she tosses her hair back when she's angry, the finger she raises to me when she wants to get my attention, her dark eyes in which you can lose yourself completely.
Everything.
This being, part-child, part-woman, with her mere presence, could disturb even the minds of a choir of castrated monks. That's why I can't imagine her with sixty hairy, squat men, alone amidst them in a shower room. It seems like a grim joke.
I clear my throat to steady my voice a bit and ask her with the most serious face in the world:
"So you're trying to tell me you would have liked to be there, with dozens of naked men in the showers? Forget it, Eva!"
"Oh, no, not like that!" she says quickly. "I would have liked to turn into a fly and sneak in to take a look. To sit quietly on the ceiling and look around. To see... what's going on. Purely for scientific purposes," she adds.
"Well, that's different," I say sharply. "Scientifically? I didn't know you were interested in cockology, dear. You don't seem like that kind of woman."
"I'm not. I was just curious. Like any woman."
The silence between us lasts too long.
"In any case," I say a little annoyed, "as a man, I'm fine. I'm telling you this again, so we can draw a conclusion from our conversation. And if you don't believe me, be well!"
Eva looks at me amused.
"Why do you have such a offended face?" she giggles. "Let's clarify things: When I said 'I suppose there's always room for improvement,' I wasn't referring to how well-endowed you are. The naked truth is that you're the second man in my life, so I don't have much to compare to."
I sit up and look at her closely. Is she lying? She's not lying.
"In other words, you're ninety-nine percent virgin," I say, touching her face gently.
"You're the second, yes!" she says, and seems lost in thought. "But what about me? What do I mean to you?"
"I don't understand," I ask, bewildered.
"How many women am I in your life?"
So Eva has existential issues! I stroke her cheek and tell her gently:
"That doesn't matter."
"Don't patronize me, okay?" she says annoyed. "It matters to me, Tiberiu!"
"Why?"
"Because I don't know anything about you. I only know three things. That you fell on your head when you were little..."
"Ah, yes," I laugh, looking at her closely. "Check. What else?"
"That you were in the army. You just told me."
"Good. And? Anything else?"
"And that you like to jerk off in the bushes. I saw that with my own eyes."
I look at her scandalized.
"Oh, spare me! Are you some kind of saint?! You don't seem like it. I don't know anything about you either."
"I'll tell you everything you want," Eva says with a calm face. "But you tell me first. For example, what happened after you fell on your head?"
"But you? How come you're twenty-six and you've only slept with one man?"
"No, no! You first."
I sigh and look at the horizon. No ship. Nothing.
Then I look at Eva and ask, sighing:
"What do you want to know about me?"
The girl tilts her head and blinks. She has long and beautiful eyelashes.