Eating the Moon
Page 5
As we eat and banter with each other, Luca tells me very little about where we are and who our hosts are.
“Don’t worry yourself about it. When you’re strong enough to get out of that hammock, you’ll know everything. Right now, your job is to eat and sleep. You have to stay put!”
After breakfast or lunch, or whatever it is, Luca disappears for the day. I sleep through the morning, but I’m becoming quite restless, and I want to see where I am. I know there are others around because I hear children outside speaking a strange language.
That afternoon Nando returns. Although he speaks English well, our conversation is difficult. When I try asking him any direct questions, he seems deathly shy. Since I’ve always been a good talker when I want to be, I press on.
“Nando, where did you study English, in school?”
“No, not at school.”
“Well, did you learn it from tourists or something?”
“I learned it from my daddy.”
“Is your father English?”
“He is American, like you.”
“I’m not really American. I’m Canadian.”
“Oh,” Nando says with an expression that indicates he doesn’t understand the distinction.
There’s an uncomfortable pause, and Nando begins to nervously clean and straighten the room.
“Nando.” I shift myself upright in my hammock for the first time. “I’m curious to see outside, and the truth is I really need to go to the bathroom.”
“Bathroom?”
“Washroom, um, the loo.”
Nando frowns, obviously not comprehending.
“Pee-pee?” I venture and put my hands together at my crotch and make a swooshing sound.
“Ah!” Nando’s face lights up. “You need to take a leak.”
“Yes, I need to take a leak. I’m about ready to explode.”
“I will help you.” Nando rushes over and steadies me as I climb out of my hammock.
I’m entirely naked, and as I stand, Nando surveys my body.
“Pretty skinny, eh?” I say, a little embarrassed.
“Oh yes, very pretty.” He exhales the words. “All plaster white.”
“Thanks, I think,” I say and laugh. “But I really have to go.”
Nando, with his hand secure under my armpit, directs me. I’m a little wobbly at first, but it feels good to be on my feet again, and I quickly find my balance and strength as we cross the room.
There, in the far corner of the room behind a wooden screen, is a small basin with a drain, hollowed into the plaster floor. It’s all painted around the edge with a bright design. I pause for a moment, wanting to be sure that this is, in fact, the toilet and not a washbasin, or some kind of ceremonial bowl, or something.
“Take your piss here, or do you need to take a dump?”
I laugh again. “Man, your father really taught you American English well, didn’t he?”
“Thank you.” He smiles sweetly, not realizing I’m poking fun at his lexicon.
And then again, there is an uncomfortable silence as I wait for him to release me and give me some privacy.
“Oh, please forgive me,” he says. “You need help.” He reaches over and gently takes my penis and aims it.
“Oh, oh, no, no!” I jump. “I think I can manage this one by myself.” I brush away his hand just as I feel myself becoming chubby. Nando says nothing, nor does he make the slightest move to leave or look away. I’ve always had a philosophy about doctors and hospitals: leave your dignity at the door. I guess it applies here too, so I pee out of necessity—under Nando’s full inspection.
“Good, good,” he says like some kind of very strange coach encouraging a trainee. “The color is bright and clear. You are well.”
Although I’m not completely comfortable with Nando’s professional credentials, I have to admit he has nursed me so far, and I’m relieved by his diagnosis and the opportunity to pee.
“Do you wish to take food outside?”
“Absolutely, a fine idea, a picnic on the veranda. But first, I think I need my pants. I don’t want to frighten the neighbors.”
“You are embarrassed by your disfigurement?”
“My disfigurement? I may be a little skinny, but I’m hardly disfigured.”
“No.” Nando blushes. “I mean this.” And he takes my penis in his hand once again. “You have no cover for your glans.”
I pause, taken off guard by his casual attitude toward touching me. To be honest, I like it. Just before I become uncontrollably hard, I turn slightly and slide my cock out of his hand.
“I’m circumcised.”
“Circumcised, what is that?”
“They remove the foreskin, er, cover, at birth.”
“Why, why would anyone do such a horrible thing to a baby?”
“I’ve often wondered that myself.”
“Is it an offering or a sacrifice to your gods?”
“Well, not my god. I guess it’s just a tradition.”
“Oh, how sad, to take your beautiful cock and cut it like that.”
“Don’t worry. I can’t remember if it hurt, and it works just fine.”
“You are very brave.” Nando furrows his brow and purses his lips. Then after a moment he says, “Your eyes are so green. You must wear this green cloth to match your eyes.” Nando holds out a folded cloth he has retrieved from a pile on one of the benches. “Like the green of the forest.”
“Can’t I just wear my own pants?”
Nando looks nervous. “Umm, your old clothes are not here.”
Strange, I think.
“But do not worry,” he quickly adds. “I have many things for you to wear.”
He hands me the green cloth, and I wrap it around my waist. “I hope people don’t mind me running around in only a towel.”
“Oh no. This is what we wear,” Nando says as he puts a pair of grass sandals at my feet.
“Okay,” I say reluctantly as I slip on the pair of sandals and head for the door.
As I step through the doorway, I’m immediately blinded by the bright sunlight, so I pause there, waiting for my eyes to adjust. I blink rapidly, and little by little, I am able to focus on the panorama spread out before me. I reach out and grab the doorframe to steady myself. I must be still hallucinating.
GUY STOPPED talking. The sound of footsteps and voices outside in the corridor wafted in through the office door.
“And what did you see out the doorway?” Richard asked.
Guy held up his forefinger. “You’ll have to wait until Friday to find out.”
Richard rubbed his chin. “Okay, so far in your story, Luca has brought you to safety, and Nando has nursed you back to health. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“It’s very curious.” Richard studied Guy for a moment. “Luca looks enough like you to be mistaken for your brother, and Nando is your complete physical opposite—yet you describe both of these men as beautiful, while at the same time, you describe yourself in much less flattering terms.”
“Are you saying I saw myself as inferior to them?”
“I’m saying these two men are models of perfection—one very similar to you and the other is your opposite.”
Guy hunched his shoulders and scoffed. “Yeah, so what?”
“Idolizing a supermodel or fantasizing about someone exotic in a faraway place is safer than risking involvement with someone who might be more present and obtainable.”
“And what about becoming involved with someone who is simply present and obtainable because you are expected to?” Guy said. “By the way, how’s your girlfriend?”
Richard’s face soured. “I’m not the one in analysis, here.”
“Okay, fair enough, Doc.” Guy spread his arms back and stretched.
Richard’s expression became professional. “So, was it just sex between you and Luca, or was there something more?”
“Cut the relationship, group-hug shit, Doc.” Guy scowled as he
got up from the sofa. “You know as well as I do—making a friend, falling in love, painting a picture, writing a musical score, cliff diving, scoring a goal, or sticking your penis in a wet hole—it all comes down to the same thing.” Guy cupped his groin and jostled himself. “Sex! It’s always sex.” Then he grinned widely. “But it’s never just sex.” And he walked out the door.
Chapter 4: Welcome to the Village
GUY WALKED up to the nurses’ station balancing two cups of coffee, one on top of the other. “Good morning, Armando.”
Armando looked up suddenly. “Oh, good morning, Mr. Palmer.”
“Padre Pio?” Guy stared at the tiny gold medallion hung where the low V-neck of Armando’s scrubs exposed curly wires of chest hair.
“Oh, this.” Armando blushed and touched the medallion. “I’m not really religious,” he said, looking like an ex-smoker caught carrying a concealed pack of cigarettes. “It’s just my mom’s got….” He stopped, his face twitched, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to swallow.
Guy reached over the counter with his free hand, touched Armando on the shoulder, and nodded sympathetically. “Whatever helps, big boy,” he said gently. Then he turned and walked down the corridor toward Richard’s office.
“Sorry if I’m late.” Guy walked directly in. “Was just chatting with a friend.” He handed Richard a coffee.
“Thanks. No, you’re right on time.” Richard clicked on the tape recorder and took a sip of his cappuccino. “Do you have a lot of friends?”
“This is the closest thing I have to what you might call a social life.” Guy laughed. Stretching his arm over his head and cracking his neck, he added, “I’m sure I’m not your only looney who feels that way.” Guy sat down on the sofa.
“Have you tried getting out and meeting people?” Richard asked as he got up from his desk and sat down on the swivel chair.
“Oh yes,” Guy said as if he knew the correct answer to a quiz-show question. “I met a guy last night.”
“Tell me about him.” Richard leaned back into the chair.
“Early thirties, a little chubby. Likes Madonna, lives in the burbs, not out to his family. Never had a long-term relationship but is attracted to older guys. I’ve seen him and his skinny friend hanging around Sailor’s Pub before. Looks like last night he was out on his own.”
Richard smiled. “Where did you meet him?”
“At the Black Eagle.” Guy sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You know, tourist night, mixed crowd, not too hard-core.” Guy made no attempt to explain that Thursday night was the night when the curious and those who just wanted to say they had been there went to the notorious S&M leather bar on Church Street.
“And?” Richard said with an almost adolescent lilt to his voice.
“That’s it,” Guy said. “He was looking for an older man with a little bit of status and cash. I guess I fit the bill.” Guy stuck out his chin and shrugged. “But I didn’t want to be his daddy.”
“How can you be so sure he was looking for a daddy? What did he say?” Richard reached over, placed his coffee on the desk, and sat upright.
Guy frowned and jiggled his foot impatiently. “We didn’t actually talk,” he said, enunciating each word.
“You didn’t talk?” Richard’s voice cracked as his hand flew up involuntarily.
Guy grabbed the gray tufts of hair at his temples. “Doc, I fucked him for ten minutes in a dark room!” He spread out all ten fingers, as if Richard needed to count them. “That was more than enough to tell me everything I wanted to know.” Guy tilted his head back and focused on the wall behind Richard. “As I was telling you….”
MY EYES water, and I blink rapidly as I step through the doorway into the blinding sunlight. As soon as I’m able to focus, I discover the stone cottage sits on top of a long, raised stone-and-earth terrace about fifteen feet above the ground below. The walls of the cottage are covered with white stucco, and bands of decorative relief painted black and orange wrap around it like a belt. A gentle ocean breeze teases my locks and rustles the dried leaves of the large thatched roof. Looming in front of me is an enormous stone-and-earth terrace mound, like a crude pyramid, about forty feet high, with a grand stone stairway up the center. My mouth hangs open as I bend my head back and scale the steps with my eyes. It looks like a photo from one of my textbooks of some ancient archaeological site.
I turn completely around and run my eyes along the array of stone-and-thatched cottages sitting atop terraces that circumscribe a large oval plaza about the size of a soccer field below me. In the center of the plaza is a round raised pool.
On every terrace, there are flowers, flowering vines, and pots filled with flowering plants. There are even flowers floating in the central pool.
I scrunch up my face in disbelief and look back over my shoulder at Nando, who is standing patiently behind me. If this is not a hallucination, maybe it’s some kind of theme park or movie set. But surely it can’t be real. Where the hell am I?
“Do you like our little village?” Nando says as I stand there with my mouth hanging open.
I stutter, trying to find words. “It’s—it’s truly marvelous… not like anything I’ve ever seen before.”
Nando smiles, obviously pleased with my reaction.
“And the flowers, there are flowers everywhere.” Oh great, I am standing in front of the most wondrous sight I’ve ever seen in my life and the only thing I can think of saying is to compliment my host on his petunia patch.
“Oh yes, people always say, give a woman good soil and she will grow corn and potatoes. Give a man good soil and he will plant a flower,” Nando says.
I immediately think of old Mr. Simpson back in my village. People always said he was a little queer, but he did have the best rose garden in the whole county. I breathe in deeply and savor the perfumed air. “It feels so good to be upright and outside in the fresh air. What a fabulous day, flowers, sun, and birds singing. It’s like paradise.”
“We have a song the children like to sing on days like this.” And Nando, without the slightest indication of self-consciousness, proceeds to sing a hauntingly beautiful little tune. The words are completely strange, even though many appear to mimic the sounds of nature. This is the first time anyone, especially a young man so enchanting, has serenaded me. Although I know it’s corny, I feel like I’ve just stepped into a romantic scene from the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, South Pacific.
“It’s such a beautiful song. What do the words mean?”
“Oh, the words are the most lovely part of all. I will translate them for you. ‘Birds sing, flowers bloom, and fish jump. Sound, smell, color, and dance are the language of life. Every animal and plant has its own way to say I want to fuck.’”
I choke at his last line, and if it had not been for the sincere expression on his face, I would have assumed he was joking with me. I smile at him. “Well, it certainly captures nature’s intent, doesn’t it?”
“Oh yes, we have many such beautiful songs about sex.”
Although I want to continue talking about sex, I suddenly notice that, except for an old man and a few children at the far end of the plaza, the village looks quite deserted. “Where is everybody?”
“It’s just past midday. The women are up at their fields, and the men are down at the beach with their boats. Some of us remain here to look after the old people and the children.”
“Ah.” I think about my economic anthropology course back at university—sharp sexual division of labor. But no anthropology course could have prepared me for what I have yet to discover.
“Please, sit down and eat.” Nando holds out his hand and points to a pile of cushions and mats and the picnic lunch he arranged on the platform behind me.
While I’m seating myself, a small girl with golden wiry hair and coffee-brown skin, who is playing with the little group of children in the plaza, looks up and runs toward us. As she climbs up the stone steps of the terrace on all fours, she
squeals with delight, “Doe, Doe.”
Nando smiles, waves, and calls back something completely incomprehensible. When she reaches us, she runs over, leaps into Nando’s lap, and buries her face in his stomach.
“This is Lisha. I am her favorite today.” At the mention of her name, she squirms and buries her face deeper into Nando’s stomach.
“She is timid, and you are a stranger,” he whispers. “They do not see many strangers.”
That’s odd, I think. They must have contact with other people, because the children look as if they might have come from every corner of the globe. “Is she your daughter?” I ask.
“No, she is not mine.”
“Do you have any children?”
Nando looks to the ground, crestfallen. “No, I am not able.” He rises to his feet, lifting Lisha in his arms. “I must put her to rest now.”
Nando quickly climbs down the steps with Lisha and disappears into a cottage on a lower platform.
I suck in air through my teeth. “I guess that was a faux pas,” I say out loud to myself. I sit there picking at the food. Suddenly a wave of dread flows over me and I feel lost and alone. I wanted a big adventure, but now I have no idea where I am, and nobody from home knows where I am either. The only person I know is Luca, and I don’t really know him that well. I’m not even sure if I’m a guest or a prisoner here. How the hell am I ever going to get back home?
GUY SUDDENLY looked at Richard. “Are you bored yet?”
“No,” Richard said. “Your description is fascinating.” He paused for a moment. “But I’m still contemplating what you told me about having sex with that young man in the Black Eagle.”
Guy wrinkled his brow. “Doc, have you ever noticed that with some people you begin a conversation and become bored after a few minutes, while with somebody else the conversation becomes enthralling and lasts for hours. Some people intrigue you while others don’t. It’s not so different with sex, is it?”
“Yes, but how can you accurately assess a person after ten minutes of casual sex in a dark room?” Richard said flatly.