Chapter 102

Chapter 102
"Island of Nostalgia"
Rafael hired a motorboat from an island native. I felt numbness in my knees as we boarded the motorboat. Returning to the island was a terrible reminder of my painful history. But I don't have the strength to back out of the deal. My theme at the time was que sera sera, whatever will be will be. I had no notion of how I was going to get away from the past.
I was sitting quietly at the bow of the motorboat. Rafael occasionally inquired about the driver, which I couldn't hear properly. The wind blew so hard against my face that it was ice cold. After a fifteen-minute trip, we arrived in front of the Beta Beach Resort.
It was already five o'clock in the afternoon, and the sun was setting over the ocean's womb, causing glittering sea movements. Beta Beach Resort was a sight to behold with its golden brown, clean sand and cottages fashioned of native huts and coconut materials. And along the beach, different flag colors were lined up as a warm greeting for their valued customers. It was a brand-new resort. Years ago, the Beta Beach Resort was surrounded by coconut trees. I just went to the location once. And that's when I dashed for the boat, with Dave on board. The image was so gloomy that I hurried to the coast, yelling Dave's name for him to come back.
Because of Dave's avoidance of me, I couldn't pinpoint the specific location where I knelt and cried. He simply sent money and a message to me before fleeing like a thief, frightened of being caught.
Where was the letter? What had happened to the letter? I pondered.
"What are you looking at the shore for, Monica?" Rafael's voice cut through my saddest interpersonal feelings.
"Nothing."
"I noticed something in your eyes; perhaps you should tell me about it."
"I don't have anything to share with you, Rafael."
"I know you will, Monica, but don't forget what happened to us in the past."
I stated it unequivocally, "The past was over, and we are now on our way to a different future."
"Yes, you didn't care about the past. That's why you married Carlo, "he said coldly."
"I'd want to remind you once more not to bring up Carlo's name in our talk."
"Why? Do you feel bad about leaving him alone in the house?" he asked sharply.
"That should be the emotion of a lady who abandoned her spouse to please another man's quest."
"Do you think this is going to be an adventure, Monica?" he asked sternly. "Freshen up in your room, and we'll meet for dinner later," he said, leaving me standing in the middle of the beach garden, where a small, colorful series of lights began to blink. It will soon be dark. And I was still unsure about tomorrow's itinerary.
I saw that Jiao Island had improved since my last visit. The addition of electricity contributed to the area's developing economy. And when I walked out of my room, I noticed Rafael conversing with the beach owner. He wore a white cotton polo shirt, which added to his childlike aspect. His hair was still damp from the shower, and I was dressed in a straight-cut sleeveless pink dress and a local slipper provided by the beach in each room.
As I approached them, the cheerful middle-aged lady said, "We want our valued customers to feel a distinct ambiance from the city atmosphere."
Rafael smiled as he said, "She's my associate, Monica Ferris."
Associate? "I'm curious how he was attempting to shape my personality in the eyes of the people around me.
"You looked beautiful in that dress," the woman said of my outfit. "All right, your table is ready; our dinner menu will be centered on seafood, with a bottle of red wine compliments of the house," she said, smiling.
She brought us to the table outside, beneath the full moon. And the sea air accentuated the gorgeous façade of such a lovely sanctuary.
Without saying anything, Rafael drew a chair for me with my back to the water, making him look at me with the moon's silver dust sparkling in the background.
"You looked like a picture from that viewpoint," he said, smiling slightly.
"Thank you for your compliment," I said quietly.
My stomach got tightened every time Rafael was around.
With the red wind, he poured our glasses and tossed mine to us. "Take a modest sip; it will relieve your stress, Monica."
"Why are you so confident about that? I snorted. "I'm relaxed and fine."
"You can't deceive me, Monica," he said as he took his first sip and looked at me.
"Please don't give me that look."
"Why? "Are you terrified of being melted by my gaze?" he teased.
The more relaxed he was, the more nervous I felt and the more frustrated I became with my naiveté.
Rafael kept moving forward, anticipating what would happen. And he was certain of himself, whilst I was bewildered.
"I just don't like it when people gaze at me like that."
"Since when?" He asked, with connotation.
I gave him a surprised expression. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well, it appears that the phrase was true, that people, especially women, change at any time," he said, and sipped from his wine glass again.
"I wasn't the point of this trip," I stated flatly.
"Would you like me to contact your husband?"
Since we landed on the island, his ideas had become more harsh and bizarre by the minute.
"And why would you do something like that, Rafael?" I complained.
When he looked at me again, I turned to face the water.
I couldn't figure out what he was up to. I had the feeling I was being manipulated by him, but I couldn't summon my Monica instinct. It was shattered right in front of Rafael Morrow.
"If your husband could modify that difficult-to-please attitude you're demonstrating, maybe I would contact him and accompany us in our search for Catherine; perhaps he could be of great assistance."
"Let's concentrate on our dinner, not those silly ideas you have," I demanded.
The waiter arrived with a large platter full of food. Before I came, he placed an order. It's no surprise he didn't touch the menu card on the table.
"I ordered what the house recommended for supper; I hope you don't mind. However, I dotted everything so you could pick your favorites." He put the empty plate in front of me.
The dinner he ordered nearly took up the entire table in front of us.
"How are we going to eat all of that?"
"We can share it with the locals," he said with a smile.
"You are such a joke," I moaned, nearly laughing at his obnoxious, childish attitude towards me.
"Does it appear like I was joking?"
"All right, let's get started eating so we can share our leftovers with the locals, if that's what you're thinking, doctor."
"Rafael that is my name, and I will remind you to call me that name again, or else you will regret it."
"Are you threatening me with something?"
"I'm simply telling you what's going to happen to you if you keep calling me doctor or whatever other moniker that will push me away from you intimately."
His lengthy monologue surprised me. Back then, he wasn't much of a talker. But now he always has something to say in response to anything I say.
"All right, can we start eating now?"
"As you please," he said, as he placed a spoonful of food on my plate.
"I have hands to care for myself; please let me enjoy the food without your too-reacting movements."
He put down what he was doing and began to eat quietly, as he had planned. Leftovers were distributed to a few residents who were good friends with the beach's owner. And the last item on the menu was a cup of coffee for each of us. The coffee they serve reminds me of a brand that my grandma used to enjoy. And I sweetened it with brown sugar to give it a different flavor. I didn't realize Rafael was watching me. I've done it on a regular basis.
He then began to remark, "That's how Catherine used to prepare our coffee back then."
He astonished me with those remarks, but I couldn't stop what I was doing.
"Catherine mentioned this to me; I knew she used to make your coffee every morning, and she told me that it was one of her routines to go up in your office and put a cup of hot coffee for you."
He was silent for a moment before speaking again. "How does she perceive me?"
His question rang a bell in my mind.
For a few moments, my lips were shut, and I ran a mental poll to see how I would explain my own feelings to him via Monica.
"What do you want to know?" I inquired my voice wobbling.
"Everything. I want to know everything about how she felt about me, "he said his eyes wide with curiosity.
I sighed, pretending to remember things as I made up a scenario for him. What about telling him the truth? I reasoned.
"She told me, "You have been so wonderful to her since the night you first met in the middle of the road when she fell; I remember those evenings fondly; it was such a glorious night for me, when she opened her eyes and saw her dream hero for the first time."
"Go on," he said, anxious to hear what I had to say.
And I let all of my feelings flow freely from my heart.
"She had a crush on you the moment she saw you," I explained.
Rafael was staring at me as I told him the story I was going through for him.
"And she kept it till the day she was shot by Roger."
"What did she mean?" he wondered.
"She loved you previously, but when the truth about your wife's plan to kill her was revealed, she assumed you were a part of it, and she has despised you ever since."
He groaned, "And you believed her."
"What?"
"Did you think she actually despised me?"
"Maybe."
He glanced out at the water and said, "You were a close friend, and a close friend may feel what her friend or friend's actual feelings are."
"Yes, I believe she does."
After a few moments of silence, he turned to face me, asking, "Did she ever want vengeance?"
It startled me to hear what was going through his head, because vengeance was the major reason he returned to their lives.
"Yes," I said flatly."She wished to exact vengeance on all of you."
He sighed, "And what was her plan?"
"She never told me what her plans were; all she said was that eventually she would get even with all of you."
"And do you believe she'll be successful?" he inquired once more.
"Successful to what?"
"To her, vengeance is a dream."
"There's a chance she will," I groaned.
"And how would she go about it?"
The more I told him the truth, the more eager he became to find out.
I need to quit telling him about my true purpose. As a result, I decided to halt the show.
All I knew was that she'd plot her retaliation and then we'd part ways.
He sipped his coffee one final time before stretching out on the chair and facing the water with his entire body.
"And how about you, Monica?" He asked.
"What about me?"
"Where did you live when you were on this island?"
He took me by surprise.
I mumbled, "I stayed at my friend's other friend’s place."
I was trapped once more in the make-believe scenario I created for Rafael, a fiction from which I had no way out but to reveal the truth.
He turned to me with that frowning face. "Why are you so pale?"
Something happened to me. Everything went blurry and I collapsed.