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"Happy birthday to you...Happy birthday to you...Haaaapppy birthday dear Victor...happy birthday to youuu".

Not Marilyn of course but my singing lessons at the age of 16 helped me pass the flamed candles and cocoa scent from my hands adorned with jewels to his wet ones by the swimming pool.

Nassau had hosted us with its charm for two weeks instead of few days.

The plot was easy to be entitled: "A bride with no veil to be lifted and a bridegroom with no ring to be shown discovering their simplicity".

Bare feet and red cheeks were my companions to surprise "my Victor".

I didn't know the date of his birth and didn't want to ask for confirmation, not to spoil the treat.

I remembered him saying, on our second journey on the train to Boston,  something about it, "in few days it's my birthday, 50 what a number...".

I was behind but I was going to win the Oscar of unexpected effects. The best day was the last day. Planned it so well. I felt so proud of myself.

Taking advantage of an intimacy gained rapidly, that couldn't be denied, I found myself so easily generous towards his person.

The Mirror Man was my Man and I felt partially responsible for his new beautiful life.

His dripping hands were helping me put the original crafted cake on a tiny rounded table.

While smiling at each other, following codified expectations of society, my eyes flew like a kite hanging on straight dark brown hair matched with a very light green silky blouse and white shorts.

Jealousy arose.

She appeared to be very close to my age but with all her muscles at their best. She was there, sitting two tables far from ours, drinking a blue drink and staring at "my Victor"  behind a pair of sunglasses.

I could feel her eyes on him, even if hidden. I caressed his hair and sent to hell the neighborhood.

All of a sudden three of the five candles, each candle counted 10 long years, had been blown out by a gust of warm wind. 30 Years disappeared. I felt younger with a younger fellow. I was lucky to be there.

The cake was just the second present for him to enjoy. The first had been tied up with golden ribbons in a very big box and contained my precious time, all the crazy changes I had realized for him and my new mood.

The studio in my hotel room had been transformed in our parlor. We spent hours sitting by the moonlight chatting and laughing. I had no refrains, no negative thoughts, no thoughts at all. I was on the wave of unconsciousness.

John phoned me many times and I regularly postponed his impelling need to share  up-to-dated company's news.
 
My lap-top ended in my luggage in advance. My documents had expired.
My three precious pens had been gifted to a waitress.

The productive businesswoman had become a lazy woman wearing most of the day a bikini, sunglasses and few very expensive  pieces of jewellery to toast with excellent food and drinks.

And to complete the portrait my regular meditation hour in the late afternoons and mornings had disappeared easily like sand does into the ocean.

"Wait!! Let me light those candles again!" looking around for a blond waiter.

A very light blond waiter had been my birthday party planner. Precise and not intrusive. He should have stayed there.

Victor's intense who's-afraid-of-the-big-bad-wolf's puff eliminated the remaining two sparkling candles without hesitation. The Party was over.

Twenty years flew away with the thirty, met in the air and summed up again the 50 awareness. I was 45 though, and feeling good only at the thought of being younger than him.

The Waiter arrived few seconds later with a professional smile stamped on his face and ready with a shining silver cake knife to cut the creamy and soft birthday present.

"You are delicious Katie!" and Victor with a piece of devotion in his hand was tasting the flavor of  submission.

Thoughts: "Why didn't he pass me the first slice?  a gentleman would have done that".

Acquiescence passed again and postponed my person to his, my priorities to his, my triumph to his.  My intimate self consideration died to his captivating voice and utterances.

"So Mirror man, happy birthday and congratulations for your goal achieved" I said with a sincere affection.

Victor replied: " I will never achieve any degree of success without you by my side. You are my only desire and for me you come first to anything else and to anybody else. You come first..." and kissed me briefly.

Thoughts: "Words: come first, come first. Facts: he ate the cake and didn't cut a slice for me, not even a crumb from his fingers to lick."

Victor, gave another bite to his romantic gateau and laughing very loudly dived into the summery heavens. Many people around us were not bothering at all. Bahamas was accustomed to that and to more than that. We were banal.

It must have been very comforting to the blonde waiter who helped me organize the surprise by the hotel pool. He would have not been the witness of embarrassing stuff.

"I am going to have a shower upstairs." said a bright white smile.

"Enjoy the cake and the sun some more, tomorrow is the saddest day of our life. Back to Boston." continued the complete bright white smile.

"Uhm..Back to Boston..it's the ideal title for my first article. Don't you think it's just perfection. I will be very soon Chief Editor. You can bet... see you later. Don't get burned." tanned shoulders ended the news rapidly and turned without asking my opinion or permission.

Thoughts: "A shower?! and me? and the cake? and the thank-you-it-was-a-great-suprise? and the fun? and the enjoyable moments to share? and the Big Bad Wolf? Back to Boston... well the cake...he got emotional. He's so charming. The Mirror Man is mine and the Chief Editor will soon be mine too. Never married, no sisters to fight with, no parents too close... Florida, never been to Florida. No children to raise. I think it's just my cup of tea."

Loudly to his tall figure already gone inside the hotel : "You read my thoughts!!!. some more sun and some cake...I might go to the beach for..." my voice faded.

Only the hotel guests were paying attention to what I was saying.

Thoughts: "Where had the sportive woman gone? Why wasn't she paying attention to my final speech?" So concluded the sentence to myself "I might go ....to the beach for a vigorous bath.".

The sea wasn't calm at all. Waves were giving the water a hard time. Never stopping their ups and downs and never giving a break to bathers.

I was the next to disturb. But the ocean had always been my friend, so its turbulence didn't bother me at all. Its mighty deep in all circumstances had helped me grow.

In Miami during my University courses and in Los Angeles for a five-year devastating relationship and annoying profession, the Wise Ocean had on all occasions rescued me. Its voiceless way of talking had invariably given me the right advice.

I immersed myself perfectly crashing into a white and soft curl. Nothing better to digest the cake and to inhale some of that cocoon-like environment.

Victor actually talked too much for my taste. Words, words, and more words. He was rain or shine on the mood for saying something. Something nice of course. Something nice about himself, here and there, and something very nice about my special being, most of the time.  

Nobody would have stopped bathing in that marvelous ocean of words but I was feeling too wet by the compliments. That bath alone, that day, helped me unplug his voice and switch on the silent ocean's one.

Once dived I spent some minutes gently moving inside the wavy sea without breathing. It was the result of strict rehearsals into my indoor swimming pool every early morning before going to work.

Once my face emerged from water, Victor's radio station started his program again. He wasn't there, but his sound was so present, so redundant, so sticky. Victor's phrases looked like written on colorful sticky post-it notes that glued , once pronounced, onto my body and soul.

I had been completely covered by his "sticky-notes" that i looked like a bulletin board of a busy office.

I touched my shoulder as if i wanted to clean away the notes by using refreshing salt water.

Dived again. The noisy radio switched off again. Emerged and his "You are delicious Katie, such a powerful woman, you're tough,  I love the way you face the social prestige to a position above the ordinary.You are my only desire, you come first.." bubbled again.

All of a sudden I realized that my precious golden chain was missing from my neck.

 I should have been more cautious. But, instead of regretting it,  I decided to dive again sure to be able to find it.

Sort of being optimist in front of the impossible. Nervous Ocean and stormy sand. What would have been helpful? My optimism? I believed so. And I dived again. It was like a leap into faith.

I kept my breath as much as I could.

While keeping my air, my body was floating among few pieces of seaweeds, my eyes were wide opened searching for the impossible and  my skin felt embraced by the warm humidity.

I hadn't gone far; so the spot where I lost my chain was not too deep.

Still keeping safely in the wet atmosphere with floating octopus-shaped hair , using  both hands I poked into the fine grains with extreme attention.

Finished the air at my disposal I burst out the surface. The sunset had started its best show of the week. Fairly obvious, it was its farewell for me and my Victor.

While staring at the romantic sunset bright red light my thoughts unsaid my criticism: "Maybe too talkative but he's neat, attractive, professional, ahead of the game. Where did his secret lie?"

I went back to reality. Waving back and forth my feet followed the mood of the water and moved onto the sand without finding peace. It was so difficult to stand still.

Ready to dive again for my treasure my right foot sole met a strange piece of rock.

Optimism had answered as usual. And my golden wet chain was there stuck among my toes.

A silent flash brought me back to the broken glasses cracking under my leather boots  at the train station. The flash faded into one second.

Talking friendly to my chain: "I knew it. Here you are. Time to go for a shower now. Victor is surely waiting for us."

Beside the difficulty in walking out of the unsteady sea I put my chin proudly up thanks to the rewarding fish caught.

Unconscious of the sticky notes, not yet washed away by the many purifying immersions, I smiled at the sunset and went back to the hotel.

"Knock, knock, room service. Is anybody in?" I tried to surprise Victor once arrived at our den.

I was completely wet in my bikini, eagerly wearing my precious survived necklace and wearing a very soaked towel around my waist.

"You are delicious Katie" kissed me.
"You are late" kissed me again.
" It's dinner time. I have just booked at the Penthouse." and kissed me more profoundly.

During the previous night I had a nightmare. I woke up trying to remember what disturbed me so much.  Nothing appeared to enlighten the anxiety left  in my bones. At that profound kiss my bones shouted their discomfort again.

I abandoned the towel on my once studio desk, grabbed two mints and answered peacefully and cheerfully: "You are! delicious.. and you are right , I am a bit late"

I didn't want to share my adventure in the Ocean and went on talking happily:

"So nicely perfumed my darling Victor! The Penthouse??!! What a great choice. ." kissing him back.

Thoughts:
"My credit card had been clicked, scanned, polished, grabbed and shown a lot during these prolonged unexpected holidays.
I always felt that Victor's hidden credit card should have been saved as second course.
I had to demonstrate I was the most independent woman on Earth.

It was his birthday, so...why not being generous?

The Penthouse was one of the best restaurant in town and he had picked it so lightly.

Maybe He has chosen it to be the cherry on the cake.

It is his turn to give back, the chef is ready for a second course surrounded by colorful fireworks. Great choice The Penthouse for a Woman like me.
Perfect choice to be even in sharing.
And, ideal to forget rudeness and to substitute the 'independent-woman's-day', (well, days) with "let-me-be your-princess-for-good".

Victor kept on getting ready for the luxurious dinner smiling at himself close to the toilet mirror wearing a bright red shirt and elegant black trousers.

He was flossing his teeth,  just in front of me , as if the charming prince had taken off not only his summery mask but especially his 24h irreprehensible matador's attitude.

After realizing he had left the toilet door opened, and the show wasn't broadening, he shook himself recovering a vigorous, productive, youthful approach throwing the floss thread instantly into a pale pink paper basket by the sink and sent his white smile towards his luggage to complete his dressing tasks.

Showered. Packed. Beautifully dressed. Perfumed Paco Rabanne. Tanned body heeled.
Zipping some of my dreams for the very early flight the following morning : "Oh this zip..i can't close this luggage would you..." I made my debut into his attention while busy dealing with his last call booking a taxi for the night.

He smiled and kept his attention on the phone.

I solved the zip problem and added a thumb up. Victor answered giving his back to my thumb. End of the luggage story.

"How rude again!".

With an established identity most of my floating thoughts could have taken place and settled on the "island of no-worries". But the cake, the worn credit card, the floss, the broken glasses, the rudeness and my nightmare had started acting like protagonists of  my "affair" and my brain had been hired as the new director of a precarious plot.

Finally at the Penthouse's roof garden.

Sipping some chilly white wine.

All of a  sudden I asked Victor: "Ah Victor, I always forgot to ask you about that pair of glasses, remember the first time we met? you were looking for the owner. Well, have you found it?"

Victor with tranquil voice and tasting a magnificent oyster: "Oh those glasses were mine, just an excuse to talk to you." and then went back to his pearl in the shell he was eagerly eating.

Thoughts: "The answer makes sense." eating as well from my shell hoping not to find a choking pearl I smiled at Victor.

"More wine?" I said.
"Yes, please." He answered.

" Should have I been rewarded of that question instead?" my mind roared clearly.

The second course had never been served and my bank account had won the first place, again.

Victor closing a second-hand magazine and yawning without covering his mouth stretched his arms and legs : "Not very comfortable these seats, don't you think so?"
Put his left hand into his jacket pocket and took out a pair of glasses :"There they are my darling, I thought you would have never mentioned them, I had been waiting for all these days. I wanted to surprise you! Here they are yours now. Have them. It was a nice idea to use them to know a special woman like you." and started laughing again loudly as he did at the swimming pool.

But this time the laughter had been not so well accepted by the other passengers on our flight back to Boston, and neither by my ears.

Frozen thoughts: "What about the crumbs of glasses on the cement by the car park at the station?".
My soul was feeling the bad smell of lies with no firefighters around.
My brain was trying to decode the data.
My spirit was feeling itchy.
My body was surrounded by his borrowed Spanish perfume.

"Oh it's freezing" I exclaimed once off  the aeroplane.
"Oh yes it is"  he agreed with his sparkling blue eyes already moved onto the first taxi spotted.

"OK I'll call you tomorrow" he exclaimed once into his taxi from the half opened car window.
"OK , bye" I agreed freezing and standing by his taxi speechless for the forgot attempt to offer me that taxi first.

"Had a great time" I exclaimed once into my taxi behind his from a wide opened car window.

"Had a great time too" he agreed while closing the other half of the car window and giving priority to the taxi driver's muttering.

Started my way home and I was already on the phone: "Hi Margaret, how are you? Just came back from Bahamas, yes it was amazing. I had a great time. Spent more time than I would have never thought. and what about you? is it everything OK at the Boston's Mirror? Have you fired that crazy journalist, what was his name, Sean...ah Sean Beaverly...? I bet you did otherwise you would have never spent more money to hire a new one...Mr Victor O'Connery...your diamond of the editorial, isn't it?"

"Diamond? Editorial? Katie, what are you talking about?? Who's Victor O'Connery?"

The pair of glasses I  received broke, and cut my right hand, by the strong pressure of anger. Firefighters were needed.

I kept my breath tight at my heart.

A leap with a flawed parachute had choked my free flight.