When a poor man turned forty-four, he decided to sell everything and go on a big adventure. All he wants is peace and a sunny place!
But, no matter how beautiful a man's plans may be, a woman will always have the power to turn them upside down.
The...
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"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."
