Day One
It had started as such a good day. I sat on the bluff amongst the pines, looking at the view of the entire island all around me. The cicadas were so loud that their hypnotic cacophony made it hard to hang onto my thoughts. The sea was calm, with a few scattered white sails. I could see the little harbor, with pieces of the village around it. I recognized the Navy fort to my right, and the white beaches to the North, and tried in vain to spot my parent's house off the Chemin du Langoustier. It felt so good to be out in the warm breeze, taking in the scent of hot pine resin, the sweet loneliness of being with myself and my dreams. One day, I would be up here with someone I loved, and we would kiss in the shadow and protection of the maritime pines, we would own the world.
My old bicycle was leaning on the trunk of a tall pine. The brakes were so bad that my friends and I had bought some cheap sandals with high cork heels at the Porquerolles market so we could drag our feet and use the soles to slow us down. I cautiously started down the trail, bouncing the tires over roots, skidding over the pine needles.
My parents had gone their separate ways, and had left me to spend the summer on the island. My father was working in Italy and my mother vacationing somewhere in Scandinavia. I enjoyed having the house to myself. Not quite to myself, since I had Simone, my governess, to take on all the hard work and boring tasks in the house, and take care of me. It was a great deal, and I appreciated every minute. The freedom was tangible, almost unbearable, and I could only hope I could summon the experiences to make it unforgettable.
Riding through the village, bouncing on all the rocks, I took the one paved road to the left, back to the house. I had worked up an appetite, and was looking forward to sitting out in the courtyard, eating Simone's delicious food and looking at the bees dancing around the wisteria. I was reading a mystery. I always liked to read while having lunch. At night I would usually discuss the day with Simone.
After parking the bicycle in the service entrance, I knew right away something was wrong. Simone looked worried.
"Christine! Your mother called!" she said.
"Is she coming?" I said, with a mixture of hope and fear.
On one hand, I was hopeful maybe she was taking enough of an interest in her progeny to come and spend some time with me. But I was also afraid she would come home and start taking away my precious independence.
"No, but she has invited Mrs. d'Alessi to stay here for a week."
"What?!"
I was crestfallen. Francesca d'Alessi was a distant friend of my mother's, and I also suspected a former lover of my father's. She was a well known Italian actress currently living in Hollywood. She was married to Marco d'Alessi, a producer who was much older than her but who seemed to have been very instrumental in the rise of her career.
I could not believe my mother had the nerve to impinge on my freedom without even coming back herself.
"Why, why is she coming? Doesn't she have enough houses already? Why does she have to come here?"
"Your mother said she had business in France, she needed the rest, and she wants to be incognito."
"Shit! Whatever..." I said.
Simone frowned at the word. I still could not believe it! One whole week!
"When is she coming?"
"Today. Mr. Vernet is bringing her at 3:00."
"Oh right, like she can't take the ferry like everyone else... give me a break!"
I liked Francesca. I had never met her, but I had seen some of her movies. I thought she was beautiful though I could not at the time really appreciate whether she was a good actress or not. She had dark skin, very blue eyes, a perfect face and a flawless body with (what I admired most) straight hair of a non-descript color, with blonde highlights in typical Hollywood fashion. Some of the films, especially the ones directed by the Italian New Wave were, I have to admit, slightly above my head. She looked good in black and white, though. Right now, however, I hated her.
Since my father worked in the film business, I had met many famous actresses and actors throughout my fourteen years, and always found them to be extremely boring in person, especially from the point of view of a kid. They seemed to always listen to themselves talk, and usually did the most stupid cutesy things to try to make me smile. I regularly gave them murderous looks, and ran away to my room.
The idea of having to contend with "La d'Alessi" for a whole week made me want to pull out all of my mother's roses and trample them until nothing was left. I decided I would not have anything to do with her, and continue living my life as close to the way it had been so far this summer as possible. So there.
I ate my lunch distractedly. I was not even interested in finding out the next clue in my book, nor did I care at the moment about who was the murderer. Let him or her go free. Let him or her kill them all for all I care. Once they are all dead, we will know for sure who done it. Simone was busy cleaning rooms, making shopping lists, working hard. I was furious at my mother.
At 2:30, I made my escape. I hopped on the bike, rushed to my friends' house in the village, and summoned the troops to spend the afternoon at Plage d'Argent. It was me and "the girls" - Ondine and Veronica - and "the boys" - Jean-Pierre and Jean-Remy. Veronica was older than her sister Ondine and did not join us very often. So it was really Ondine and me and the boys, who were brothers. I liked them all, but had a special feeling for Jean-Pierre whose nickname was, of all things, Bambi. I could imagine the name was left over from when he was a chubby toddler, and maybe it was going to follow him into old age. I had a crush on Bambi and I loved to watch him. He was skinny but quite strong for a fifteen year old. He had blond hair, curly in places, and it always fell in front of his eyes. He was tanned from being constantly out in the sunlight in a bathing suit. He had the looks of an angel, and the manners of a bad boy. This was probably what attracted me, but who knows... Bambi, incidentally, did not return my feelings.
So Ondine and I went to pick up the boys, and off we went. We played a game where we would pull out the old canoe we had hidden at the Plage d'Argent. The canoe leaked and the game was to paddle as fast and as far as possible before the canoe finally sank. Then, we had to drag the canoe on the bottom, turn it over to empty it, and start all over again. Bambi liked to have Ondine as his partner and I always ended up with Jean-Remy. I did not like paddling with Bambi anyway as he always yelled at me. My favorite partner whenever she joined was Ondine's sister, Veronica. She knew how to drop the competition aspect and pretend we were on an island in the Pacific, singing and paddling slowly in unison until we sank.
After all our exertions, we would lie on the silver sand in full sunlight and discuss everything from our parents to the latest news. We made fun of the people we called tourists. We had houses, we did not stay in hotels; we were locals, yet in our minds slightly above the real locals, those who lived on the island all year round.
A good day was when Bambi paid some attention to me other than mocking or yelling. Today was a good day. Bambi even showed me his new zippo lighter.
Francesca wanted to be incognito, so I felt I had to respect her wishes. I mentioned I was going to have to deal with an unwelcome guest, but I did not say who it was.
"Bummer! "said Ondine... "Why don't you come to our house for dinner tonight? We're having fish, as usual, but you are welcome!"
"Thanks, I will!"
What a relief not to have to face the awkward situation of whether I was welcome to eat with Mrs. d'Alessi or not.
So I called Simone from Ondine's parents' house in the village and told her I would not be home for dinner. "Is she here?"
"Yes."
Obviously, Simone was not free to talk.
"Is she going to have dinner at home?"
"Indeed."
"OK, see you tomorrow morning! Good night, good luck..."
I had a good time with Ondine and Veronica and their parents, and biked home as slowly as I could, as close to midnight as I could.
Day Two
The next day started with a few clouds, obscuring the ray of sunlight I used as my wake up alarm for the summer. So I got up late as I usually did on cloudy days. I took a shower, grabbed a t-shirt and some shorts to put on, and went out into the patio for some breakfast. Francesca d'Alessi was sitting at the table, buttering a slice of toasted bread.
As she looked up, I was struck by the color of her eyes. They were blue, luminous, like pools of aquamarine contrasting with her dark skin. She did not seem as beautiful as she looked in the movies, but there was something about her demeanor which somehow pulled you in even against your will. She extended her hand to me.
"You must be Christina... happy to meet you. I'm Francesca."
I shook her hand, ignored the Italianization of my name, and sat down at the table. I proceeded to eat some toast with jam and drink some coffee, but Francesca started in. She spoke to me in English, and her English was definitely superior to my Italian.
"So you don't mind being here all alone for the summer?"
"No, actually I like it a lot!" I tried not to sound as if I was giving her a hint...
"Do you have friends on the island?"
What do you think!? "Yes I do."
"Are they nice?"
The grilling was really getting to me. I replied yes, and then she changed the subject. "So, to get to the harbor, I just turn left on the road and walk? How far is it?"
"Not far, and besides you cannot get lost on the island. It's too small. You need to take the ferry? " I was asking a hopeful question.
"I am meeting a friend at 10:30."
"Then you better leave now... it takes about 20 minutes."
A friend? Hell... was she going to bring Hollywood to the island? While Francesca was gathering her things to go, I went to the kitchen and interviewed Simone.
"Mrs. d'Alessi is meeting her friend Tomaso at the ferry. He will be here for two nights" she said.
I could not believe her nerve... I was being kicked out of what used to be my parents' house, but had recently become mine thanks to Simone's nurturing help. So the whole thing had been arranged for Francesca to meet some boyfriend behind her husband's back? I rolled my eyes and grabbed the bike after kissing Simone on the cheek out of compassion, and telling her I would probably spend the day and evening with Ondine and the guys.
When I arrived at Ondine's, she was doing summer homework with her tutor and they let me join in. I aced the spelling dictation as usual, but sweated a little more for the math. I had missed the first few days of class in algebra and still had not completely incorporated into my consciousness the idea that letters could be added or subtracted, even less obtained as a result.
We had sandwiches and cherries for lunch, and we were tying cherry stems into knots using only our tongues, when Bambi and Jean-Remy walked in.
"Hey you guys! What are you up to?"
"Nothing... what are you doing today?"
"We want to go fishing at Notre-Dame. Do you want to come?"
"Sure..."
And off we went on our bikes. Bambi had brought a fishing gun and snorkel gear. I had borrowed mine from Veronica. I did not remember where mine was and did not want to go back to the house and look for it.
Fishing did not mean sitting quietly and waiting for the fish to bite. Fishing meant hunting down the fish and spearing them with harpoon guns or hand held tridents. Sometimes we caught octopus and would pry the animal from the spear while it was grabbing at us with all tentacles. I had learned from a local kid how to turn the head inside out and beat out the ink before handing the octopus to the chef for lunch. I hated catching octopus and always hoped they were all busy somewhere else whenever we went fishing.
Jean-Remy caught some poor unsuspecting sand dab that day, and very soon we grew tired of looking at the sandy bottom and sat on the beach. Bambi started the conversation.
"Do you guys know that Francesca d'Alessi is spending the summer here? My dad saw her at the wharf this morning."
"Oh, I know," I said sighing. "She is actually staying at our house. I don't think she is staying all summer however..."
All three of them looked at me stunned.
"And you were going to tell us when?" said Ondine. "What kind of a traitor are you?"
I rolled my eyes.
"She is supposed to be incognito. Besides, I want nothing to do with her... she's like using our house to meet her boyfriend behind her husband's back."
"Her boyfriend? " said Bambi," but Francesca d'Alessi is a dyke!"
Ondine was poking Bambi with her trident.
"What? Come on! How could you, little old you, of all people, know that?"
"I read an article in Cinemonde... she and Selena Hirschberg are doing it. I swear! There was a pretty hot picture of them together."
Selena Hirschberg was the dark, intense, mysterious Argentinian star who had created a sensation at the last Cannes Festival, after her film won the Palme d'Or, by refusing all the interviews. This had driven the paparazzi crazy, and ultra grainy photos of Selena doing various menial tasks suddenly multiplied on the front pages of every single tabloid in Europe.
"You better beware," said Bambi pointing at me "... she might attack you!"
I shrugged my shoulders... "She's not a dyke. Her boyfriend came today. His name is Tomaso."
"Have you seen him? Maybe he's a she ..."
The joking continued as we all went back to Ondine's parents who had brought a whole batch of sea urchins.
When I arrived back at the house, it was still early. No one was home and Simone had already retired to her cottage in the back of the garden. I sneaked into the guest room which had become Francesca's. Things were quite messy in there and I could see evidence of Tomaso's presence - cuff links, and man-sized sneakers. Various items of feminine and masculine clothing were strewn on the large bed.
I went back to my room and picked up my mystery book, finally interested in the next clue. At some point I heard Francesca and Tomaso coming in, but I was already dozing off, so I turned off the light and fell asleep almost instantly.
I was flying in the middle of a flock of large birds with long necks, like blue herons. The birds were flapping their wings and calling each other with the shrill cries of seagulls. We were all soaring above white clouds, and below us was the blue, infinite ocean. I was hanging on to one of them, feeling lighter than a feather, happy and comfortable. Suddenly, the bird plunged into a cloud with a vertiginous dip. The move broke my balance and I started falling.
I woke up suddenly from my dream. I could still hear the bird sound. It was a soft, repeated moaning, which broke into a long, prolonged soft cry. The sounds were gentle but seemed uncontrollable, intense with sweetness, evoking pain or almost unbearable pleasure. This was no bird. I realized I was hearing Francesca and Tomaso making love and the wings flapping was the sound of the headboard on the guest room bed hitting the wall, following their movements. Nothing but silence for a while. Then the sound of laughter, and the moaning started again, punctuated by more laughter and a soft masculine voice whispering in Italian.
No way could I sleep with this racket going on. I got up and went outside, realizing they had left the door open, and I did not have the nerve to go and close it for them. Outside, the moon was bright and the breeze was a little chilly. I sat on the steps on the other side of the patio where I could not hear anything. I could see stars and some clouds, and the leaves of the wisteria were fluttering in the dark.
Without warning, an immense sadness came over me to the point where tears came to my eyes. The loneliness was palpable as I crossed my arms over my knees and waited until the swells within me subsided. It took a while. I could not get a handle on it, nor pinpoint the cause of it. I started sniffling and realized it was going to get cold. A small light went on behind the drapes in the room across the patio. Someone got up. I heard water running, more voices, and the sound of the door to the guest bedroom closing. The light went off.
Shivering, I crossed the patio and went back to my room. Safe in the warmth of my bed, I stayed awake for a while, listening. But all was quiet and I eventually went back to sleep.
Day Three
I woke up to a knock on my door. When I did not respond, the door opened slightly and some dark-haired athlete tiptoed into my room, wearing nothing but khaki shorts.
"Christina, wake up!"
"What?" Wide awake by now, I feigned sleepiness.
"Come on, come have breakfast with us... we have plans!"
I sat up and Tomaso introduced himself. His smile was disarming and contagious. He walked out of the room. I got up and joined them in the patio. Francesca greeted me and handed me an already buttered piece of toast. They seemed to be going out of their way to pay attention to me.
My guess was they realized they had forgotten to close the door last night, and they felt they owed me something for disrupting my sleep.
The plan was that Tomaso was going to go water skiing, and would I please join them? Had I ever water skied? No, I hadn't... "Today is a good day to start", said Tomaso. He was so energetic and engaging, I had to forget my anger as I escorted them to the little harbor. Francesca walked ahead, luminous and stunning. Tomaso looked like a Greek God, and I was walking with them, being part of them, on my way to spending the day with them.
And what a day it was!
The boat was waiting for us at the harbor. It was a sleek wonder of mahogany and chrome, a Riva speedboat, bobbing by the wharf, with skis and ropes sticking out at the stern. The captain, Mr. Vernet, helped us on board and pointed to the well-stocked bar in the back. Tomaso recommended a light Pastis for me, saying it would take the edge off my first water skiing attempt. The day was gorgeous. Not a cloud in the sky, and the Mediterranean looked like a lake of infinite blue. I declined the drink until later as I was feeling quite inebriated already. We exited the harbor and the boat rose up as it picked up speed toward Notre Dame.
Tomaso held me for my first attempt from the beach, and I managed to get up on the skis. It was exhilarating to be gliding on water in the frothy wake, looking all around me while Francesca was waving from the boat. I got up by myself on the second round and off we went into deeper waters, on a large circle off the coast. My favorite part was letting myself sink standing upright all the way when the boat slowed down far from the shore into the dark blue. After I climbed back on the boat, Francesca wrapped me up in a warm, dark green towel as Tomaso jumped into the water holding the rope, ready to take his turn with the mono ski.
There I was, finally sipping my Pastis. I remember looking at my foot resting on the chrome and rubber step on the side of the boat, the sky, the misty coast beyond, the wake, Francesca's smiling face, and the walls of water with rainbows kicked off by Tomaso. I will remember this always, I said to myself. This is how real people live, I thought. Maybe this is even how my parents lived when I was not around.
At night, the three of us went to dinner at the Langoustier. We had melon and Tomaso showed me how much more glamorous it was to eat melon with salt. This is how people eat it in Rome, he said. We had grilled "loup" with fennel. We had wine. We talked about many things I had never talked about with adults, or even with anyone. I told them I had a crush on Bambi. After I had spent some time enlightening them on his name and nickname, they started giving me advice on how to "score" Bambi.
"Wrap yourself up with cellophane and wait for him in his room," said Francesca.
"Cover yourself up with whipped cream and do the Dance of the Seven Veils," said Tomaso.
I was laughing so hard, I had tears in my eyes.
"Well, he doesn't know what he's missing," said Francesca, lifting her glass.
After dinner, we got back into the boat and Mr. Vernet took us back to Plage d'Argent under the moonlight. We had to jump off the boat into the water as it was too shallow for the Riva to go any further. We waved goodbye and splashed around as we ran toward the house.
Running across the living room, we realized we had made a mess by dripping salt water all over the tiles. Tomaso and I volunteered to mop the floor. "Buona Notte, everyone!" Francesca said goodnight cheerfully and went into the bedroom. After we were done drying the floor, Tomaso kissed me goodnight on both cheeks and joined her.
Once in my bed, I listened into the night. Now that they were my friends, I was hoping I would hear them again making love; hear them or see them do something to give me some clue as to what was really going on. I knew the facts of life of course, but I could not fathom what was so powerful that those who did it could lose control of their voices and their movements, as if caught in a current stronger than their will and their conscious beings. I listened and listened over the crickets, heard some cats meowing, night birds shrieking and rustling in the leaves. Eventually, exhausted by what had to have been the best day of my life, I fell sound asleep.
Day Four
Waking up, I found a little piece of paper on the pillow next to my head. I opened it and read:
Ciao Christina!Good luck with the little deer.
See you soon I hope!
Your Tomasino.
I suddenly remembered Tomaso had had to leave early on the morning ferry.... I folded the note, and put it away in a little cigar box I kept hidden in a drawer.
Today was the 14th of July, Bastille Day, a celebration in all of France. We usually did not have fireworks on or near the island but some people took the boat to Hyères to watch them.
This July 14th looked like it was going to be a work day for both Francesca and me.
She was already on the phone talking in an agitated way in Italian by the time I was up and about. She saw me and smiled at me with a little wave of her hand. When she looked at me, it was as if the world was coming together, as if the last piece of the puzzle had just fallen in. I would suddenly be tall, tan and fearless. I waved back and grabbed my bike. I had an appointment with the tutor at Ondine's house.
We worked for a while, we had sandwiches for lunch, and I actually did better in math this time.
Afterwards, we went to Notre Dame for a swim with the boys. Everything around me had changed. I used to be visiting the beach, now I secretly owned it. After all, this was where I had gone water skiing the day before, where I had sped across the water in a mahogany speed boat with ice cubes clinking in my glass of Pastis.
Even Bambi, "the little deer", had changed. I still enjoyed looking at him, but I was also chuckling to myself, thinking about the cellophane, the whipped cream and the Dance of the Seven Veils. My confidence had also increased. I was less in awe of the new chrome zippo, and less interested in counting the number of times he spoke to me or looked at me with any expression other than irritation.
As a matter of fact, I am the one who felt irritation. His wisecracks about Francesca were beginning to get on my nerves.
"You don't know what you're talking about!"
I was sitting behind him, looking at his back and the blond curls in the back of his head. I threw some sand at him.
"Oh, because you do, don't you? What do you know that we don't? Eh?"
He turned to me with his most devilish smile. I would rather have died on the spot than shared anything I knew from the time I had spent with Francesca.
"Nothing. I just know she's not a dyke, that's all!"
And on we went...
That night, Francesca decided she would invite Simone to have dinner with us, to thank her for taking such good care of us. Francesca cooked some home-made spaghetti and I went to the bakery to buy a special cake, rum "baba", Simone's favorite and mine as well. We had a great time. Francesca had a way of drawing people out, and I had seldom seen Simone smile and laugh as she did that night.
Then it was time to go to the July 14th Ball on the village square. We could already hear the music from the terrace. Some local band with electric guitars and accordions was playing 'Johnny B. Good' and singing it in French, of course.
Simone decided to pass on an evening of patriotic revelry, so Francesca and I walked down to the little square, all decorated with bright colored paper lanterns and flags.
There were tables and chairs all around a makeshift dance floor. Couples and kids were dancing. Groups and families at the tables were laughing and lifting their glasses of cheap champagne in toasts. Some of the little kids were lighting fireworks in the corner by the small church. Many of the sailors had come down from the fort, and a whole side of the square was painted over with their uniforms.
Francesca was wearing a blue work shirt and jeans, and no make-up whatsoever. She looked tan, and younger than her thirty something years. She took in the scene, and smiled. Her presence was hard to ignore, and one of the sailors spotted her. He came over, and took off his hat.
"Mrs. d'Alessi, I know you..."
"You know me? And do I know you?"
"No you don't...yet... but will you do us the honor of joining us for a drink?"
The sailor seemed so nice and so respectful, Francesca agreed to join them. I saw her disappear in a cheering sea of white and blue as I went over to join Ondine, Veronica, Bambi and Jean-Rémy with a smattering of parents, over in the far corner.
"Looks like your friend is having a great time with the Navy", said Bambi, obviously obsessed by Francesca.
"Lay off her, will ya?"
"My, aren't we protective...."
"Yes, I am." I replied in a serious tone, leaving no room for banter.
So he finally stopped, and we all started dancing in a circle. Veronica was the most graceful of us all, and it was always a joy to watch her dance with her long wavy black hair flowing like a Tahitian's. Bambi was more into strange Mick Jagger style poses, executed in zombie like jerks, and I was more comfortable with his kind of choreography, so we danced like zombies together, until he finally had to laugh, pick me up in his arms, and twirl me around.
"Christine! You're almost cool, sometimes, you know that?!"
That was the biggest compliment he had ever bestowed on me, and it made me extremely proud and happy. I looked around for Francesca, and I saw a bunch of flashbulbs going off.
"What's going on over there?"
"Looks like that little guy from Nice-Matin has spotted your friend yakking it up with the sailors. That'll make a nice front page, I'll bet!" said Ondine...
I rolled my eyes and cursed under my breath. I don't think Francesca was counting on this, and she was supposed to be incognito. I should have spotted the photographer and warned her, but I had not been paying attention. I looked over and Francesca was laughing with the sailors, and seemed to be having a great time.
"I guess it's OK with her", I said... still a little worried.
But I knew famous people were always torn between the fear of being recognized and the fear of being ignored or unknown. After a while Francesca got up, followed by the photographer from Nice-Matin and some tourist amateur photographers. She walked over to our table. I got up to greet her, and so did Bambi and Jean-Rémy.
"Is everything OK?" I asked.
She nodded yes without answering, and I proceeded to introduce her to my friends.
The band was playing a French cover of the Rolling Stones' 'Honky Tonk Women', and Francesca said "Oh, I haven't danced yet! Let's dance!"
We all got up to dance with her, and some of the sailors joined us as well. Bambi and I were honing our zombie dance, and soon he and I, Veronica and Francesca ended up as a wild foursome. Francesca was a good dancer, if a little subdued and controlled. I caught her looking at Veronica with a flash of admiration, and I suddenly was ashamed of the jealousy I was feeling.
At some point, the flashbulbs got to be a little too much, and as the band started playing 'A Media Luz', a popular tango, Francesca took me aside on the way back to the table.
"I need to go home, sweetie..."
"I'm going with you!"
Francesca turned around and as the flashes went off she graciously waved at the crowd, as if at some grand event.
"Buona notte, everyone!"
Revelers and sailors were waving back and saying goodnight. I did not want to leave Francesca alone, so I waved at my friends from afar, and we started walking home, leaving the crowd and the photographers behind.
It was very dark and still warm. Myriads of stars were out, no moon yet, and we could hardly see.
"Y todo a media luz..." Francesca was singing in Spanish "que es un brujo el amor"... then she hummed to herself for a little bit "que suave terciopelo, la media luz de amor... la la la", and then was quiet all the way back. At some point, she took my hand, so I could guide her on the trail.
We got back to the house safe and sound. We could still hear the music coming from the square. As we said goodnight, Francesca grabbed both my wrists and looked at me with those incredible blue eyes.
"Christina, carina... I have a great idea for tomorrow. You just wait and see..."
She looked excited. She kissed me on my right cheek and twirled away back to her room. I could hear her sing to herself "y todo a media luz crepusculo interior... la la la...".
I read my mystery book for a while before turning off the light, but my interest in who could possibly be the murderer had waned considerably since I had first taken it up...
Day Five
I could hear Simone's voice in broken English behind the door as I was getting ready to come out for breakfast.
"But, Mrs. Hall, doesn't want Christine to go out on the water!"
As I walked out, I realized they were actually discussing the possibility of Francesca going out on the Nostromo, my parents' sailboat, and taking me with her. The Nostromo was small, less than 30 feet long, but it was a beautiful all teak and brass sloop with an inboard motor and a comfortable cabin with all the amenities.
I used to love going out on the Nostromo with my parents when I was little. Then, my mother decided she hated the sea, and my father started using sailing excursions to attract young women. After my parents separated, I had a few occasions to go out on the boat with Felipe the Corsican man who was in charge of maintaining it, and with friends of my mother's every now and then. My father had named it "Nostromo" after his favorite Joseph Conrad novel. It lived in the harbor and Felipe made sure it was clean, seaworthy, and always kept the brass tacks shiny as new.
"She knows I know how to handle a sailboat," says Francesca. "Do you know where we can reach her?"
Simone didn't know, but she added that if Mr. Felipe agreed, it would be fine with her to take the Nostromo out. I think she was getting tired of always policing things on behalf of my absent mother.
As I was finishing breakfast, Francesca talked to Felipe in Italian for quite a while. She was smiling and joking, it looked like it was all set.
"Felipe, un minuto per favore... "she said. She turned to me. "Do you know where the 'big bag' is for the boat?"
I did indeed, and she instructed me to go and get it. The big duffel bag is where we kept all necessary items for an overnight on board Nostromo: sheets, blankets, pillows, some pots and pans. Overnight?! We were going to stay overnight? I could hardly contain my excitement. I had not stayed overnight on Nostromo since I was about five years old!
Felipe was coming over to help us with the big bag and with some groceries, and we were packing essentials for overnight, including my mystery book, of course. I could not help but bounce and skip on the road as we walked to the harbor with Felipe. Francesca looked ready, wearing jeans torn at the knees, and a striped sailor shirt. She was discussing the idiosyncrasies of the boat with Felipe.
"Christina, Felipe says you can handle working the jib. Is this true?"
"Yes, sure, I've done it before... "
I had done it under close supervision from Felipe who knew the sea inside and out and who told me everything step by step, but there was no way I was going to say anything to impede Francesca's incredible plans.
On the boat, Felipe partly unfurled the main sail, pulled the jib from the hold to get it ready and hooked it up. Then he helped us open the duffel, get out the sheets and make the two little bunks in the main cabin. Finally, he pulled out the plank, Francesca started the engine, waved at him, and we were off.
I was nervous, as I had not been sailing for a long time. It looked like a perfect day, though, with calm seas and a soft breeze, ideal for apprentice sailors.
Once we passed the jetty, it was time to sail. I helped Francesca hoist the main sail and then proceeded to do the same with the jib. But my movements were awkward and I felt at all times like I was going to fall and make a fool of myself. The shackles were rusty with salt, and nothing seemed to come easily. Fortunately, Francesca's plan was to go to the Southern side of the island, where little rocky coves were not reachable by land. This put the breeze at our back, and I didn't have too much work to do after all. We did one clumsy port tack, brought down the sails and used the motor to pick the best cove. We dropped anchor. There were very few other boats around. I recognized Bambi's mother and a friend in a converted fishing boat.
Francesca took off her jeans and her shirt, down to a simple two piece black bathing suit. She was slender and strong, with skin the color of light rosewood. I tried not to stare at her, but I noticed she wore a thin gold chain around her waist. She plunged head first into the green water without hesitation. I poked around in the cabin for a while, found my snorkeling gear and my fish gun, but decided I did not feel like killing anything today. I dropped the rope ladder from the stern to make sure we could get back on, and then jumped from the bow and swam around with Francesca. She was a smooth, easy swimmer. When she came up from diving, her hair and face would glisten with liquid sunlight, in a tribute to her natural beauty. In the water, she was all fluidity and elegance. I felt privileged, but also intimidated to be out there almost alone with her.
We spent the day swimming and lying in the sun, until the light began to change and all the other boats had left for the day.
Francesca decided we had to watch the sunset together, drinks in hand. I went below deck to dry up and put on some clothes, and she made Pastis and water for both of us. Coming back up, the scenery was breathtaking. The rocks by the cove had taken the color of blood, and the sun was surrounded by pink clouds.
She handed me my drink, and we sat on the deck side by side, watching the sun go down.
"I am so glad we came here... I didn't feel like staying on the other side after last night. Too many people..."
"You seemed to be OK last night, though. Does it bother you when people recognize you?"
"Well, it is flattering in a way... especially if they are friendly. But I always think my job is to act, not to be on public display like that..."
"What is it like to act? Do you like it?"
She graciously answered the question. "The common wisdom is that acting is great because you can be many different people other than yourself." When she explained something, she truly talked like an Italian, with all kinds of hand gestures. "But in reality you find out eventually that all these characters you play, the good ones, the icky ones, the desperate ones, they're all you. They are all alive within you... All these different feelings, they are not foreign to me. I've known them all, I've had them all at one point or another. It's just a matter of filtering the right one at the right time."
The sun was halfway gone. Francesca was asking "Christina, have you ever seen it? Il raggio verde? The green ray?"
"No, but I have read the novel by Jules Verne. In it, these people mount an incredibly difficult and expensive expedition to go to the North of Scotland to the Faeroe Islands, to be sure there will be no land to interfere with their viewing of the green ray."
"And do they get to see it?"
Looking at her, I told the story as if I was daring to tell an intimate dream.
"No, they never see it... the heroine and this guy she likes are up there waiting and waiting and, at the time when the ray finally happens, they are busy looking into each other's eyes. And all they see is love... the light of love. They are so much into each other, and they miss the ray altogether. But it's all right... "
"Che bello... what a beautiful story... "
We were quiet and looking into each other's eyes all of a sudden. Just like in the story. Francesca looked genuinely moved, but it was only something from a book.
I was the one who looked away first, to see the sun reaching the green ray point, but no green ray was showing up.
She got up and decided to make dinner while I stayed outside and watched the dusk fall on the walls of the cove.
She had made another batch of Italian pasta and I had a little bit of rosé wine. I was determined to direct the conversation. I wanted to know everything about Francesca. "How come you know how to sail like that?"
"My family lives near Naples. My father and I would go sailing all the time. I was sailing alone when I was about your age... "
"Do you still live in Naples?"
"No... my husband has a villa on Capri and we go there every now and then, but most of the time we live in Malibu, California."
She had mentioned her husband and it opened the door to more important questions.
"Do you... huh... do you love your husband?"
"Yes, I do. I love him very much."
"Why do you sleep with Tomaso, then?"
"Hmm... sometimes, people like me and my husband love each other, but we are not really physically in love with each other anymore. So, I have Tomaso. I love Tomaso. He is a good friend and a great lover, but he is not the marrying kind."
"Does your husband know about Tomaso?"
"Yes, he does."
"And he doesn't mind?"
"I don't know for sure, honey... but as far as I know he doesn't seem to mind."
Then, I asked the question I was dying to ask... "What is it that makes someone a great lover?"
"Well, let me see... "
She was thinking hard... she was actually going to answer my question! "A great lover is someone you feel so safe with that they can take you to the edge and they are still with you. You are not left alone out there, so you can stay longer... "
Not that this made any sense to me, but I appreciated her effort. I was still on the attack however. "What about Selena Hirschberg?"
"What about her?" asked Francesca... obviously taken aback by the question.
"Bambi says you sleep with her."
"Bambi! That guy sure knows a lot! Where did he get this?"
"I don't know, but I think he read it somewhere."
She paused... looked down... then looked back up straight at me. "Well, you know, I'm in love with Selena. That's enough motivation to be sleeping with her, don't you think?"
"You're in love with Selena?"
"Yes, I am. She is beautiful, fiery, and Indian. You would love her too... "
"Do you, like, make love with Selena and all that stuff?"
"Yes, I do. Anytime I can, believe me."
I was remaining silent, trying to wrap my mind around all of this.
"It's not so weird you know... you'll see... everybody does it. Those who don't do it have thought about it at least once in their lives, and those who are angry about it are those who want to do it the most"
"Is Selena a great lover?"
Francesca was pensive. "Yes, she is... too good maybe, if there is such thing. .. Sometimes she can make you forget who you are."
"Is this good or bad?"
"Well, it feels very good... but I think in the long run, it might be bad... "
I was still processing this deluge of revelations from an adult I hardly knew.
"You love a lot of people," I said.
"Yes sweetheart, my heart is full... but there is always room for more, you know."
On saying this, she suddenly got up. "Let's go for a swim!"
"Now? "The water around the boat seemed black and uninviting.
"Yes, now! Come on, let's do it. Let's go for a midnight swim!"
Upon saying this, she proceeded to take off all her clothes, and to dive head first from the boat into the night, hardly making a splash.
"Come on! It's delicious!"
What the hell, I thought... I've got to do it. So, I took off all my clothes as well and jumped off feet first holding my nose as usual, without even thinking, so I wouldn't have time to get afraid. The water felt incredibly warm. Swimming without a bathing suit was new to me and I was surprised at the sense of freedom and vulnerability it gave me. We swam a little far from the boat, and floated on our backs looking at the stars. I could not see her very well, but I could feel the water rippling from her movements to stay afloat. There were so many stars, it was hard to distinguish the constellations.
"Do you know the names of the stars?" she asked...
"Yes, I do, at least some of them... "
I started naming them, remembering what I had heard about them at the Paris Planetarium. I was saying the names in French: Betelgeuse, Rigel, Cappella. Francesca was listening intensely.
"Tell me more... "
Sirius, Orion, Arcturus, Vega de la Lyre, the Big Bear, the Little Bear, the Medium Bear, Goldilocks ... I was making them up. She laughed.
"More... tell me more... "
The night was calm and the air was still warm. Out from behind the cove, the moon started emerging like a spotlight and the stars began to fade. I could see Francesca floating on her back, looking at the sky. I could hear night birds flapping their wings, and the hollow sound of waves in the rocky coves. It all seemed like a dream. There I was, all alone in the wilderness with this woman who was treating me like her equal. I was floating too, smiling to myself and enjoying the feeling of swimming naked in warm waters. Oh, this was the life... indeed...
Once the moon was up, the cool breeze also rose, and we decided to get back onto the boat. Fortunately, I had left the little ladder unfolded at the stern.
Francesca went up ahead of me. The drops of water on her body were like glitter in the moonlight. I could see the chain around her waist.
"Do you know where the towels are?"
I did, and I got them for both of us... We dried off inside the cabin and closed the door. Inside, the light was soft and, since we had already made the bunk beds, they looked cozy and inviting. I went into the little bathroom to brush my teeth and then settled down in my bunk with my book while Francesca took her turn in the little bathroom. The boat was gently rocking, making creaking sounds and I could hear the waves licking at the hull. I was imagining we were miles away from civilization. Me and Francesca, we were alone on the ocean.
She came over and sat on my bunk. She was still naked, her shoulders wrapped in her towel. She took my hand.
"You are a wonderful kid," she said.
Then she bent over and lightly kissed me on the lips, lingering just a little.
When she stopped, I was bathing in the light of her smile and my heart was beating faster. She was still holding my hand. Without thinking, I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it.
"You need to be happy, my sweetheart... "
As she said that, my eyes started blurring with tears. I could feel uncontrollable sobs welling up in my throat. She lifted me from the pillow and held me for a long time. "...there... there... " she was saying, rocking me gently. "There, my angel... May your dreams guide you to happiness".
In between sobs I kept trying to say "but I am happy", but I don't think anything intelligible came out. When the storm finally subsided, I realized her neck was drenched with tears, and I pulled back. I used a corner of her towel to dry her, and she gently patted my swollen eyes with another corner. We were so close. I could feel the warmth from her skin like a heat lamp. She took a tissue from the little night table in between the bunks and handed it to me. I blew my nose and greedily grabbed her hand again as I lay back down. I was looking at her face in wonder. I was taking in her beauty and trying to slow down my breathing. She stroked my hair and my cheeks for a while. Her touch was calming and electrifying at the same time. She kissed both my eyes and my lips, soft as a feather. Then she kissed my hand as she was letting go of it to get up from my bunk. I was still trembling as she lay down on her side and turned off the light, whispering "good night, sweetie... go to sleep... lots to do tomorrow."
I turned toward the wooden wall in my bunk. I could hear the blood rushing through my veins and the water against the hull. My breathing was still shallow and I was shaking for no reason I could think of. Finally, after what seemed to be a long time, I settled down and turned around to face inside the cabin. The moon had risen even higher and moonbeams were criss-crossing through the portholes. I could see Francesca sleeping with abandon, looking so vulnerable with her arms up on the pillow like a baby. She had kicked off the sheets and her body seemed to be translucent in the moonlight. I would have given anything to have the nerve to cross over and lie down next to her, holding her tight and feeling her skin against mine, her hair against my face. I watched her sleep for quite a while. As she shifted in her sleep, each movement was one more expression of beauty. How can anyone be so perfect and not be cruel, obnoxious, or dead?
I caught my eyes closing on their own and I eventually drifted off into sleep with dreams of ocean waters and endless voyages through comfort and love.
Day Six
When I opened my eyes, it was late. The hatch was already open and sunshine was pouring in. I could see part of Francesca's leg outside; she was already up. I could smell coffee in the little kitchen area. The boat was gently rocking and I could tell it was going to be a slightly cooler day. I got up, folded the sheets and put them and the pillows into the duffel bag. I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, then went up to meet Francesca in the bright light of the morning.
"Good morning, amore mio," she said, "here is some breakfast for you". She had cut melon and strawberries into little cubes, made some toast and buttered it, and arranged everything neatly for me on the placemat on the folding table.
As we prepared for departure, I was literally floating... not cautiously stepping on the deck, but gliding, swinging around the rigging like in a Hollywood musical. Francesca and I smiled at each other a lot. At some point, I hoisted the jib and dangled from the deck to undo a line which was caught. I saw a look of concern on her face but I looked back and waved. She smiled and blew a kiss in my direction. She kept calling "amore, let's go, ready about!", "amore mio, let's do another one", and with every call, I turned into a better sailor. The sea was a little rougher on the Western side of the island but, by then, we were a well tuned seafaring team. She was my skipper and I was her first mate. I was flying about the deck adjusting this, tying that, tightening, loosening, until the boat was steadily breaking the waves, full and by, panting at a good clip. Francesca held the wheel with her feet and leaned back into the sunlight. I lay down on the cushions in the wheelhouse and rested my head on her leg. I could see the white mainsail and the sky, and with every lift of the boat I could feel the pressure of the muscles in her thigh. Every now and then she would gently stroke my hair. I would look up at her and she would smile at me. It was like time had stopped and the world was nothing but this infinite sky, dark blue sea and the wonderful isolation of our small sailboat...
"Amore, it's time... one last starboard tack to home... " I got up, she sat up at the helm, and we executed our last tack perfectly. I sat at the bow with my legs dangling, watching the harbor approaching as we encountered more boats and waved at them. I started furling the jib and then we brought down the mainsail as the boat was gracefully turning in a circle. She started the motor and we entered the little harbor as I was lowering the bumpers. We had been gone for weeks, it seemed. I was arriving in a foreign country, an exciting new land. The small harbor master's building, the flotilla of white fishing boats once familiar were like a discovery... a quiet side entrance into a new life.
There was a large motor yacht in the harbor, the "Orion", flying the colors of Greece in the guest slip at the far end of the dock. I busied myself doing all the chores I remembered from the last time I had sailed on the "Nostromo". I folded the jib into the sail hold, and Francesca helped me wrap the mainsail into its blue protective cover. As I was swabbing the deck, a man was helping Francesca with the gangplank. He was dressed like a sea captain in a light opera, with white pants, a blue blazer and a white cap he took off when he started talking to her. They were speaking English, but I could not hear what they were saying. As Felipe was walking toward us to get the keys, I took our bags out, locked the last hatch, and watched as the man hopped on a little golf cart and sped off toward the Orion.
I had left the big duffel in the cabin. Felipe said he would bring it over later and we walked off toward home. I was windblown, my skin was sticky with salt, my hair matted, but Francesca still looked like she had just stepped out of a giant clam shell like Botticelli's Venus.
"Sweetie, this was Stavros Spanodakis. He invited me to have dinner with him on the Orion tonight.
Ah, the Greek billionaire. He came to the island on the Orion every now and then, but this was the first time I had actually seen him in person. I was distressed. This was my last evening with Francesca and I had been looking forward to spending every possible minute with her. I managed to compose myself and act reasonable.
"Ah, good... should be fun."
I don't think she was fooled for one second by my calm demeanor.
"You know, Christina, he is on the list to finance my next film. The production company would love for me to give him a little push. I would much rather stay with you, carina... "
She put her arm around my shoulder as we walked and it did a lot to make up for my disappointment.
Francesca had to pack in the afternoon, and I did not feel like hanging out with Ondine and the boys, so I took a sandwich and rode my bicycle to the top of the hill. I was pedaling with a vengeance, and almost made it to my favorite spot without having to walk the bike. I could see the Orion in the harbor from up there, and I was angry that someone like Spanodakis had the money and the clout to abscond with Francesca any time he wanted. I lay down for a long time. I slept for a while, then just lay there and looked at the sky as I had on the Nostromo.
I imagined I could have brought Francesca up here. We would have walked through the pines on a really hot day. We would have talked about all kinds of adult things, mainly about love. She would have taken my hand and maybe kissed me again like she did on the boat. Maybe even more than that... a real kiss, a lover's kiss...
But I was not Selena Hirschberg, I was not a lesbian, a dyke, as Bambi would say, and I was not even truly an adult. I loved Francesca, but could I imagine sleeping with her as a lover? I just liked the way she was so physically affectionate with me and called me all these beautiful Italian names. I loved the look of her skin, her eyes, her hair, and I could still feel her lips on mine, and how I had hoped she would never pull away. I sighed so loud it came out as a whimper. I rolled over and got up as if rejoining the present would ease my state of confusion. I brushed off the pine needles and walked over to where I could look at the little coves on the South side of the island. There we had been. There we had spent the night together. There we had truly loved each other, I was sure of it. No one can take this back, not even Spanodakis in his fake captain's uniform.
It was almost dark when I finally came down the hill and I realized I had waited so Francesca would already be gone by the time I got home. Simone and I had dinner together. She asked me if I had had a good time on the Nostromo. I said yes, and I added I was sure my parents and Felipe would be quite surprised at my progress as a sailing partner.
After dinner, Simone went to her little bungalow and I hopped on my bicycle and made for the harbor.
The portion of pier where the Orion was docked was locked so I could not get anywhere near, but I could see there was light on the yacht. I was trying to make out what I was seeing, and if any of the moving spots on the poop deck was actually Francesca. I could not really see anything and I went back home, a little dejected by the ineffectiveness of my spying.
At around eleven, the phone rang. It could be my mother; possibly... She sometimes called at the strangest hours, especially if she was in a different time zone and had forgotten about it. Instead, I heard a man's voice with a strong accent.
"Allo? This is Demosthenes, I am purser for Mr. Spanodakis."
"Yes?"
"La Signora d'Alessi has requested that Christina come and fetch her at the dock."
I could not help but smile...
"Oh, all right. I will let her know, she will be there right away."
I did not have to tell Christina to jump on the bicycle and ride like the wind to the harbor. At the gate to the pier, I saw Francesca in a white evening gown which brought out her tan. She was wearing turquoise earrings and gold sandals. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Next to her was Demosthenes, standing by the golf cart. When she saw me, she smiled and rolled her eyes toward Demosthenes who kept looking in the distance for the Christina in question to come and fetch la signora in some kind of vehicle.
She walked toward me, turned and waved at Demosthenes as I got off the bike and we started toward home, on foot, with me walking the bike. Demosthenes climbed onto the cart and disappeared along the pier.
"So, how was it?" I asked, not really wanting to know...
"It was good."
She was giving me no details, and I was feeling possessive.
"Did you sleep with him?"
She laughed, and frowned at me in mock annoyance.
"Christina! No, of course not, what do you think!?"
"Did he want to sleep with you?"
She responded seriously this time. "Yes, as a matter of fact, he did. But you see, I can say no. I don't have to sleep with everyone just to make a movie. It's good to say no to things you don't want to do! The hell with them!"
She paused...
"Christina, please take my hand, will you? You know I can't see in the dark!"
And on we walked, back to the house. The first thing she did was take off her shoes.
"Let's have a drink... a drink of water actually, I am very thirsty."
So we sat in the kitchen. I got some ice water from the refrigerator. I chose the best glass for Francesca, a red crystal one with cut designs, and poured her a nice tall glass.
My irritation at her dinner with Spanodakis was completely gone. I wanted to take care of her. I reached for her hand across the table. She held mine in return and rewarded me with a smile which melted my heart even more. But she was still in charge.
"Sweetheart, do you know what you are going to do? Like with school and all?"
"No, not really... I still have a couple of years to decide."
"Just remember to always stop and think about whether something feels good before you do it. If it does, then follow it. Follow it all the way and don't look back. You can't go wrong."
This went against everything I had ever heard from teachers and advisors at school. Good feelings led to nothing but depravation and laziness.
"How do I know when something is really good?"
"You know it because it stays with you. You drink too much, it feels good, but then you wake up with a headache...that's not good. You do something really good, it sticks to you, you can take it with you anywhere, and it will keep. It never goes away, though you don't always know it at first."
I was looking at her, trying to understand what she was saying, trying to never forget.
"I will miss you," I said.
"I will miss you too, my angel."
She finished her glass and got up. I did too. It was time to go to bed. As we were walking toward our rooms, she turned to me and we fell into a spontaneous embrace. I was holding her very tight. I could have sworn I could feel our hearts beating together. She kissed my neck just below the ear. The sensation was so strange and so powerful that I had to breathe in and out, too fast, almost in a gasp.
"Oh my..." said Francesca, as she gently released me. "Tesoro, come on sweetie, time to go to sleep... Come wake me up tomorrow morning if I oversleep, OK?"
She waited for my answer.
"OK."
She went into her room and closed the door.
Sleep was entirely out of the question. The mystery book was still at the bottom of my backpack from our trip on the Nostromo and I could not bring myself to pick it up. I went out onto the patio and waited for Francesca's light to go out. She had closed the drapes and I could not see into the room, but I knew she was there, and I could imagine her. I stayed for a long time afterwards in the dark. I was not sad anymore. My heart was light, a strange energy was running through me, and every sensation seemed amplified. I could hear the night crickets, I could smell the pine needles and I could almost feel their warmth from having spent that whole glorious day in the sun. I wanted this feeling to never, ever leave me. I wanted this being I had become today, to remain within me forever.
Day Seven
I did not have to wake Francesca in the morning. I could hear her and Simone moving around and talking as I got up. When I joined them, the sun was already warm and the smell of jasmine was in the air. But what mattered most to me was Francesca's smile, warmer to my heart than a thousand suns.
At 10:30, the jeep from the Langoustier came to pick her up. I helped load her bags in the back while she sat next to the driver in front. I commented on the large number of bags she was travelling with when she had been wearing a minimum amount of clothes while on the island.
"Oh, but I had gone half way around the world before I came here... "
"Where are you going now?"
"Well, to Toulon, then Paris, and then I will fly to Los Angeles. You'll have to come and visit me... "
I hopped in the back of the jeep with the bags and off we went toward the harbor.
When we parked by the wharf, it looked like everyone had come to say goodbye to Francesca. The reporter from Nice-Matin was there, so were Ondine, Veronica and their parents. Next to them, I saw Bambi, Jean-Rémy and their parents, the one policeman of the island, the postman, and a small group of tourists from the 2 hotels in town, cameras in hand.
Mr. Vernet had come to pick up Francesca with the Riva. I looked at the speedboat, the varnished wood, the chrome step, remembering where my adventure had started less than a week ago. I did not quite know what the adventure was, but I knew it had turned me upside down.
Francesca was very gracious as usual. She went to my friends and kissed them all on both cheeks. I noticed with relief she did not spend more time with Veronica than the others. With Bambi, after she kissed him, she smiled and gently hit his cheek in a make believe slap, and I could swear I saw him blushing. Then she came to me. I was the last one, closest to the speedboat. She gave me a hug, and whispered in my ear.
"Ti voglio bene... don't forget... "
Then Mr. Vernet helped her onto the speedboat, she waved at the crowd, and off they went. I watched the Riva go slowly through the harbor. When they passed the jetty, it rose up like a rearing horse and sped toward the misty coast in the distance, disappearing behind its own wake.
I had a big lump in my throat and my eyes were stinging, but I was determined not to cry. Francesca would not be around to take me in her arms and comfort me with kisses.
I managed to return to some kind of routine in the days that followed. I still felt like all my senses were in overdrive. I was in a trance, favoring swimming and walking alone to being with my friends. When no one was around to distract me, I could think of Francesca and almost feel her presence. I could swim with her, walk with her, talk to her, and tell her everything I had ever dreamt of telling her.
When Felipe came to the house to bring the duffel bag, I asked him.
"Felipe, what does 'ti voglio bene' mean?"
He laughed, and shook his finger at me.
"Who told you that? You're just a kid! Who told you that?"
"No one... no one told me. I read it somewhere, I just want to know what it means... "
"It means 'I love you', that's what it means. Now stay out of trouble!"