Chapter 104

Chapter 104
"When the Truth Finds Its Way"

They were all staring at me. They were waiting for the name that would come out of my mouth. And I don't have a fictitious name to tell them.
What should I do now? I was, in the end, a part of my lie. Do I have to tell them the truth?
"I don't remember their names; I just lived here for a week and...
I could tell Rafael was concerned about what I was going to tell them.
"So you didn't stay on this island for a long time." And how come you forgot their names?”
"I have my own life turbulence during those days," I said as I gazed out at the sea.
Rico threw in another challenging question. "Just tell me where you stayed; everyone here knew everyone," he said with a smile. "This is a small island, and everyone was aware of the new faces that were visiting."
I explained, "I was on the other side of the island."
Rafael inquired further, "In what part of the island?"
"The other side," I said, turning my gaze to the net, where the crabs were still battling. "Oh, look at the other crabs. They're not moving. Maybe we should keep moving before those entire crabs die." I immediately headed toward the Beta Beach Resort.
Rafael followed me to where I was going, leaving Rico staring at us.
"If you allow us, Monica was right. We should get going to retain the freshness of these crabs. "See you around," Rafael remarked as he turned back to him.
We strolled softly on a grassy path shaded by large coconut trees and crossed a small rice field before arriving at the resort's cottage roof.
Rafael's stillness was terrifying. I could tell he was thinking about something that was keeping him from talking to me. When we arrived at the resort, he simply instructed me to go back to my hotel and relax. He was requesting that the cottage owner boil the crabs for us.
I slowly closed the door to my room, unsure of the consequence of our chat with Rico. I took a bath to relieve the stress I was experiencing, and stayed in the chilly shower for a bit. Until then, I don't know how I'll deal with all of the conditions that await us. I used to be quick to tell lies, but this time was different. On the island, I felt suffocated. And not a single thought came to me. Perhaps it's time to tell Rafael the truth. And this was the perfect time to tell him. He'll learn everything there is to know about me as Catherine after our supper. That was the best idea I'd ever had, and it liberated me from being a liar.
A few minutes later, I was dressed neatly in front of the mirror, evaluating my mind on how I would reveal the truth to Rafael. Then I rehearse how to begin the epiphany.
"I have something to tell you, Rafael," I groaned. "Oh no, I'm afraid I won't be able to do it," I moaned.
Maybe I should put it down on paper. It was easier to explain in writing than to face Rafael and endure his scrutiny.
Yes, I would write it down and place it in his room, I reasoned.
Then there were knocks on the door, which unexpectedly cut my thoughts short.
When I opened the door, Rafael was standing there. He looked dapper in a white pullover and cargo pants.
I hadn't known that it was getting dark and that it was getting chilly outside the room.
"I requested the manager to have a small fire outside, on the coast," he smiled. "I'd like to have a night picnic on the beach; what do you think?"
"You're the one spending it, Rafael, so you're free to do anything you want. I smiled faintly. And most of the time, I attempt to escape his gaze.
"You still have an hour to roam about; I'll meet you on the shore," he says before disappearing.
I shut the door and rummaged through my luggage for papers and a pen. I still have time to compose my confession to Rafael.
Another half-hour had passed, and I was nearing the end of my writing, which I had gone over several times. Finally, I was happy with what I had written. I kept it brief and to-the-point.
Dr. Rafael Morrow, I'm writing to express my gratitude for the opportunity to work with you.
I'm sorry that I didn't have the fortitude to tell the truth. It's not for you to set foot on this island in search of me when, in reality, I was just next to you. I apologize for not informing you sooner. However, it is better to be late than never. This letter can't contain everything that is happening to me. Please accept my heartfelt apologies. You don't have to go searching for Catherine. Catherine is my name.
Monica Ferris,
I carefully folded the paper and slipped it into the pocket of my dress. I took a deep breath, still unsure of what would happen once he read my letter. But it was my last decision. To speak the truth or not to tell the truth, I chose to tell Rafael the truth.
When I sat there for a while, the bed was nice against my back. I'm curious about what happened to Carlo and Madam Mea at that point. I closed my eyes and tried to forget about them. I need to focus on the next move I'm going to make.
Rafael surprised me as I opened my eyes. He was sitting on the couch near the door.
"What are you doing here?" I asked as I sat at the edge of the bed.
"I was just staring at you. You forgot to lock the door." He said casually.
"Did I?" I inquired.
"Yes, you did forget to close it, which is bad for you," he said as he rose to his feet and walked to the door. "Our night picnic was ready, and if you're up for it, we could spend the night out there."
Something hit my soul when he said those words that I couldn't explain. I was content on the inside.
"Can we go outside now? I'm hungry, "he said as he approached the door.
"Give me five minutes and I'll be right there."
He nodded and exited, closing the door behind him, and I ran to the mirror to check myself. I'm not sure why I was both excited and concerned. After a few moments, I was on my way.
The wind outside the shore was cool, and I hadn't brought a shawl, so I embraced myself, but Rafael was sensitive enough to notice and rose to his feet, gently covering me with his sweater.
"There's no need to cover me; I'm fine with the cold."
"No, you should be aware of what is going to happen next; taking five steps ahead in every motion gives you time to rethink or reverse anything."
"What are you on about?"
"Nothing," he said, smiling. "It's like eating those crabs before they become cold; maybe we should start eating before the moon comes out from hiding the clouds."
Our table was set up near the water's edge, and Rafael knew exactly what he was doing.
It was a full moon, and our surroundings reminded me of my first trip with them to Paradise Island. I was extremely thrilled when Rafael gently held me in his arms after Madam Mea permitted us to dance to the track "Strangers in Paradise." And Dave was only a front for my true feelings for the doctor.
"Did you remember the night on Island Paradise?" Rafael, who was out of the loop, inquired, it seems that we were both thinking the same thing.
"Yes, I recall."
"And how did you feel about it?" he asked, taking the last mouthful of his coffee.
"I miss Dave," I said.
In the next seconds, silence engulfed us. We had a fantastic supper of crabs with grilled fish and sweet and garlic butter salmon, as well as other menus whose names I couldn't remember. Then a man with a guitar approached us and sat at one of the tables outside, right next to ours. And he began to strum his guitar to a lovely melody.
Rafael continued to stare at the full moon, as if he was a full moon worhisper, silently wishing for something.
The guitar's lovely song permeated the air. The waiter wiped off the table and retrieved a bottle of red wine.
Rafael made a remark before I could say anything else. "Red wine is wonderful for the heart, if not misused," he said as he poured himself a glass.
As my share of the drinking session, he poured wine into the empty glass in front of me.
I took the wine to calm my trembling hands. But my hands still shook, not because of the coldness of the night, but because of the terror I had been attempting to hide since we began eating. I placed my hands inside my dress pocket, feeling the letter I had written to Rafael. My confession letter, and just thinking about it made me nervous. So when Rafael offered me another glass of wine, I drank it swiftly. My ears soon began to feel the heat from the wine spirit. Then I clutched the letter closely.
The time had come to give the letter to him. I would simply hand it to him. It's as simple as that, as I thought, and then slowly pulled out my hand with the letter, but halted when the guitar man changed to another tone, the music of Strangers in Paradise.
Rafael rose to his feet and approached me, offering his hand. "Will you dance with me?"
I was appalled by his movements. And slowly, I accepted his hand and went with him to dance on the sandy ground.
He expertly held me in his arms and led me dancing as the momentum of the guitar reached its melodious tone.
And everything flashed back to the moment we were dancing under the full moon, when I felt my forbidden love for him.
Take my hand in a stranger's paradise.
It became our narrative, as the song goes. He was the stranger in my paradise. And while dancing, we were both silent. And as the music stopped and we finished our quiet emotional dance, he escorted me back to my chair.
"You reminded me of her," he commented.
"Whom are you referring to?"
He said as he poured himself another glass of wine. "It's Catherine. She danced like you."
And I pulled the letter from my pocket and placed it in front of him. "Read this while I was gone," I said as I stood up and walked away from Rafael.
He was looking at it anxiously.