About Nude Not Naked

On the ferry to Koh Phi Phi, I was buzzed. It was Alex and he began his short message with ‘my hands are shaking as I write this…’. He asked me to read an email he wrote me. I was overwhelmed with so much sadness that I could not hold the tears that were welling up along my eyes.

‘This is what sunglasses are for,’ I said to myself as I coolly took out my Gucci shades out of its box and nestled it gently on my nose. I wondered if Jackie Kennedy wore her sunglasses for the same reason. Did her glasses hide tears too?

The ferry was packed with people. Backpackers and locals sat next to each other. The sun worshippers walked up a flight of flimsy stairs, to the upper deck, only to walk back into the cool of the lower floors. The sun’s rays were beating everyone’s backs on the Thursday I sat the ferry to Koh Phi Phi.

Thirty minutes before sitting the pair of sunglasses on my nose, I found myself in the company of two girls. They flew on the same flight on the previous day and by chance, we stumbled on each other again onboard the ferry boat to Koh Phi Phi. We chatted along merrily as I related to them how years ago I spent summers in Stockholm.

I kept my mobile away during this trip, in a separate compartment and every so often, I flipped it open and checked for calls and messages. Good way of avoiding work related matters on the precious trip. I slid my hand into the bag as the girls and I spoke about Mid Summers and skinny dipping with friends.

A message from Alex.

I did not have a mirror but I assumed that my face turned pale when I read the message. What horror to read that his hands were shaking. My hands began to shake too. I felt faint, as if all the air around me was withdrew and I was stuck in a vacuum. That was how my heart felt.

Empty.


*



I now sit on my office chair, thinking what happened back then. It has been a week since that message arrived and I am not sure what I did other than slipping on the pair of sunglasses and refusing to open my mailbox until the day after.

The girls and I checked into the hotel and I managed to keep myself busy with other things. Like checking out the seaside and Zeavola, which was a beautiful boutique hotel. Zeavola was this perfect sweet dark chocolate structure sitting prettily between swaying coconut trees and the steadfast rocks. Beautiful yellow umbrellas and sun beds lined the white sandy beach. I am not sure if the place made the people beautiful or if it was the other way around.

I decided to read the email while the two girls prattled on in Swedish the morning after, immediately after the complimentary breakfast. I sat in front of the computer with trembling cold hands and cold feet on a very hot day on an island that swept Nikki away. It was not a very nice start to an island holiday.

‘I have neglected you and now our love has suffered’

That was the subject. Suffering, I thought to myself, then taking a deep breath. Suffering definitely fitted what I felt at that moment. It was a long email, the longest I have received from Alex in a very long time. There were lots of things written, things that I am not free to share with you because they are very private. But I will share what I wished I could tell Alex then and now.


*

I am sorry that I have hurt you in the past. Yes, I slept with someone else three years ago. Yes, perhaps that killed part of your love for me. I am a murderer and I am guilty of killing whatever passion and love you felt for me.

Do you remember the movie “Lady Killer”? The daughter wrote a secret letter to her mother and demanded that her mother apologized three times for all the hurt caused. And the mother did.

I wished that there was a secret letter and you demanded me for an apology, times three.

I am sorry.

I am sorry.

I am sorry.

And I wished that it would make everything better. But I know that there is no secret letter and that you made no such demands. There is nothing more that I can offer other than a very sincere apology. I do not know how to mend you better.

You are my sun and I have depended on you for love and support. I never imagined that you would not love me. Until now. Now I no longer know what is real because I thought our love was real. What I felt with you was real. What I felt for your was real. I thought that our love was strong, what we share is special and now, after what you wrote, I do not know what to think anymore.

Now all I feel is that everything was a convenience. It was convenient for you to be with me and on my part, I felt safe with you. We are good friends. We always have been. We share so many things in common and we supported each other through a lot of things. I felt so comfortable with you, in my very own skin and you were comfortable enough with me to be just who you are inside.

Perhaps that was the killer. We grew too comfortable. As the years rolled by, we just grew too comfortable. Somewhere along the way, we became very good friends and not so good lovers. You said so. I thought we made good lovers. We were physically close, walking hand in hand all the time and we had physical contact even when we sat down for a movie. I remember stretching my legs on your lap whenever we were sat in a bus or the cinema.

Do you remember our special jiggy dance? Yes, the one we made up when ‘Saturday Night Fever’ reality dance competition was aired on TV. We always did the jiggy dance while we cooked dinner. I stood in the hallway. My index fingers twitched as I tip toed in a little dance while you opened your arms to catch me when I jumped at you after three steps. Is that not passion and happiness?

So fine. I am not Lolita and you are not Brad Pitt. We no longer possess the passion like how young lovers often do. But I never considered what we share as poor. I just figured it out that we were past the initial first love rush and have settled into a comfortable routine…


*
One week on I am still on a row with Alex. He has made a peace offering but I am not so quick to accept it. This is highly unusual. Some thing has changed this time. I knew that I had changed since coming home after Christmas. Something inside me changed.

I think I grew up.

Or grew old.

I am tired of everything. I feel lonely and depressed. I do not want to be alone anymore. I am not willing to settle for the best, which is so far away. Not anymore anyway. It is no longer the best when you are so far away.

I think I am going crazy. I must be. There is the only logical reason why I would not just let this go. I am afraid. Yes, I am but I am not willing to patch this one up with a little emotional plaster. You might feel better after the cuddle but the issue is not resolved. It is hidden. I know it would not go away. It never did. This issue will crop up some months down the road.

Realizing that I might regret this stubborn need to confront Alex at the moment does not seem to stop me from confronting him. Or refusing to resolve it at the moment. I think I am a little angry at the moment and I am not thinking straight. I have been pushed off the edge or I have pushed myself off my own brink of reality and now I feel as if I do not care whatever happens to me anymore.


*
The men knew they were trapped the second they ran into the wooden shed. The police were on their backs and there was no backdoor to run out from. The leader, the one with the blind right eye, climbed up some bays of hay and his army of bandits followed.

The whole place was swarmed with police, he thought to himself. There were men in green shorts, machine guns and barking dogs outside. There were many of them. Ten, twenty or even thirty of them.

All was lost.

‘Today is the day we die, soldiers!’ he shouted. He rushed out through the door, his men behind him.

Sprays of bullets filled the dusty summer day.