Eating the Moon

by Mark David Campbell

  Nando presses his cheek against me and speaks into my ear. “We can’t. We have Leo now.”

  I drop the oars and turn to face him. He holds my sweaty face and kisses me deeply before I can say any more. We stand and cling to each other, rocking to and fro with the undulating sea. I can’t let him go. I can’t go on without him.

  Pico scrambles forward, sobbing uncontrollably, and hugs us both. Tears come streaming down my face. Then Pico grabs Nando by the arm and pulls him from mine and they jump overboard. How I hate myself for teaching him to swim. I grasp the gunwales to stop myself from jumping in after them. “I’ll come back,” I call out through my sobs and reach out toward them. “I’ll come back.”

  Nando sputters and coughs as he attempts to call out something above the thunder of the waves pounding against the outer reef. Then he throws his fist in the air and splashes widely as he thumps it twice against his chest. I make a fist back at him and hold it firmly against my heart. As Nando and Pico swim back toward the shore, I stand and watch my world float away.

  I drop onto the bench and begin to row with fury toward the break in the reef and out into the open sea. Here I am back where I started, in a lifeboat with Luca, not really knowing where we are headed. But this time it’s Luca who is unconscious and it’s me who must save him.

  GUY BREATHED in and out. Sounds and voices outside in the corridor wafted in.

  “Is that it? The end of your tale?”

  “Oh no, not yet.” Guy waved his finger back and forth. “But you’ll have to wait until next week for the exciting conclusion.” Guy pushed himself up off the sofa. “Hey, I see your sister gave your cat back, eh?”

  Richard looked at him curiously. “How did you know that?”

  Guy reached over and whisked Richard’s sleeve lightly with his hand. “Cat hairs, what else?”

  Richard chuckled. “Sometimes you scare me, Mr. Palmer.”

  “And what about those other stray hairs in the bathroom sink and the shower? Not to mention the razor and the toothbrush.” Guy flexed his eyebrows.

  Richard squinted and scowled.

  “It’s a big step—making space for someone else, isn’t it?” Guy walked out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. He strolled down to the nurses’ station, where Armando was busy typing something into his computer.

  “Oh hi, Mr. Palmer,” Armando said brightly.

  Guy said nothing. He reached over the counter and gently took Armando’s hand from the keyboard. Then he carefully inspected the scratches on the back of his hand and wrist.

  “I got into a fight with a cat. I lost, obviously.” Armando made a little chuckle.

  “He’s a territorial animal. If you don’t assert yourself, he’ll never respect you,” Guy said slowly as he released Armando’s hand.

  “She’s an old cat. I guess she’s just a little cranky.”

  Guy reached back across the counter and gave Armando a friendly pat on the cheek. “Who’s talking about cats, Kiddo?” Guy turned and walked away.

  Just around the corner out of sight, as he stopped to read the In Case of Fire instructions on the wall, he heard Armando pick up the phone and dial.

  “Doctor, I would like to make an appointment.”

  Pause.

  “Yes, it’s serious. I’ll need a complete examination with follow-up therapy.”

  Pause.

  “He already passed by. Yeah. He asked me about the scratches on the back of my hand. Why is everyone so interested in the cat today?”

  Pause.

  “Speaking of the cat, I want to have a dinner party next Wednesday.”

  Pause.

  “Both your parents and my mom.”

  Pause.

  “I’m not just an overnight guest, you know.”

  Pause.

  “Yes, you’ve been bad, and I’m going to discipline you later tonight.”

  Giggles.

  Guy whistled a little tune as he sauntered down the corridor and out the exit.

  Chapter 26: The Story Ends

  BALANCING TWO cups of coffee on a small cardboard box, Guy carefully maneuvered the door open. Once inside he pushed it closed with his backside. “Here’s your coffee, Doc.”

  “Thanks.” Richard carefully lifted both cups off the box lid and placed them on his desk.

  Guy opened the box and held it toward Richard.

  “Croissant too this morning? Ah, don’t mind if I do.” Richard took a croissant gently in his fingers, and the flaky crust crackled. “What are we celebrating?”

  “The conclusion of my tale.” Guy smiled. He placed the box on the corner of the desk and looked at it. “Fresh doughnuts,” he read out loud. “The label on a box is never quite the same as the contents inside, is it?”

  “Doughnuts or people?” Richard took a bite, and a large greasy piece of croissant fell on his tie.

  “People. Our place in society—race, ethnicity, gender, age, and even who we desire. Boxes that tell us who we are and who we are not.” Guy pointed at Richard. “You’ve made a grease spot on Mr. Armani’s tie.”

  Richard looked down and whisked the crumb off with the back of his fingers. He held up the tie and examined the spot. “Do you feel like you are in a box?”

  “Sometimes, and the label says, ‘Caution: silly old tattooed faggot inside. Use at your own risk.’”

  Still holding his tie, Richard snorted. “You know, I don’t know why I wear a tie with some man’s name all over it who I’ve never even met.” He undid the knot, slid the tie off, and tossed it on the corner of his desk.

  “So how was the Bion conference?”

  “The conference? It went well. Boston is a wonderful city.” Richard sat back and stretched. “How was your weekend?”

  “Good. I had a little weekend getaway.” Guy nodded. “And what about your paper? How did it go?”

  “I think it was well received. I got a lot of questions afterwards, which is always a good sign.”

  “Delusional Retreats and the Claustrum. Great title.”

  “Wait a minute. You weren’t at the conference, were you?”

  “Yeah, how else would I have heard your paper? I was a little disappointed you didn’t use me in any of the case study material, though.”

  Richard breathed in deeply. “I’m not sure how comfortable I am with this.”

  Guy clasped his face with both hands. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

  Richard raised his hand and opened his mouth to speak, but the words dissipated in the air, and his hand fell back onto his desk.

  Guy raised his eyebrows and spread his hands. “The conference was open to the public, you know.”

  “You’re absolutely right.” Richard exhaled the words.

  “I guess the reason you didn’t talk about me is because I haven’t finished my story yet.”

  Richard shook his head and gestured with his left palm. “Go ahead.”

  Guy licked the crumbs off his fingers and began.

  I ROW until my arms ache, and I continue to row, inflicting as much physical pain on myself as I can. A day out to sea and we become engulfed in a fog. Without any sense of direction, rowing is futile, but I continue until I collapse with exhaustion and despair. The whole time Luca remains unconscious in the bottom of the boat. By the second night the fog begins to clear and the sea becomes choppy. I’m an experienced seaman now, and I steer with the current.

  Suddenly a strange storm appears all around us and I hear a great explosion. Far off, in a silhouette of light, I can make out a ship—our ship, the Crescent Moon. And again another explosion and the silhouette slips below the waves. For a brief moment, I think I see a small craft rowing away from the scene, but then I lose it in the darkness.

  By early morning the storm has subsided, the sky is blue, and the sea is gently rolling. Luca never regains consciousness, and his body has grown cold during the night. I tie a bag of his precious gold around his feet, kiss his forehead, and whisper, “Good night, Bo
y Scout.” Then I slip his stiff body overboard and, like an image from a dream, watch as he slowly sinks through the ribbons of light and disappears into the infinite blue. It would have been pretty difficult to explain what a half-naked tattooed man is doing in a lifeboat from a lost ship with bags of gold and a dead comrade. It’s better this way. There will be no inquiry into Luca’s responsibility for abandoning ship and crew—the Crescent Moon, lost at sea, with all hands on board.

  As for me, I’m well provisioned, and after a week I eventually spot the coast, off the Florida Keys. I beach the lifeboat under the cover of darkness and stash the gold. The rest is not important. For the next few years I sail around the Caribbean and Latin America until I eventually find my way back to Canada.

  I’ve lived mostly off the gold, and my life has been comfortable. I’ve moved from one man to another, never staying long. But as I get older my time is running out. Every moment of my life, even my dreams, are filled with my obsession to find my way back to the Islands of the Stars.

  GUY STOPPED and drew in a deep breath. Then he placed his hands on his lap and sat very upright, beaming like a small child. “Well, Doc, that’s pretty much it,” he almost chirped. “That’s my story. What do you think? Am I crazy? Are you going to lock me up and throw away the key?”

  Richard stared at Guy with his head slightly cocked. He held his fist up to his chin and rubbed the stubble but said nothing.

  “Remember our deal, Doc? I’m straight with you and you’re straight with me.”

  Richard’s hands were now poised in front of his face in a kind of prayer position, and he wore an expression as if he were trying to decide what to say and how to say it. “Okay, here goes the clinical speech. Fantasies are important. The major difference, of course, between a person who has a fertile imagination and one who is suffering from a psychosis is, the psychotic person can no longer distinguish between reality and his fantasy world. As the fantasy seduces him and colonizes his mind he deteriorates, spending more and more time in his fantasy world and shunning reality. He eventually becomes antisocial and dysfunctional.”

  “That’s what the textbooks say, but what do you think?” Guy yawned and rolled his eyes.

  Richard leaned back in his chair and put both hands behind his head. “You’ve constructed a very elaborate fantasy world based on your personal experience and your knowledge of anthropology. At times this fantasy world has created problems for you. You’ve had problems with alcohol and drugs. You have trouble forming relationships, difficulties at work, and problems creating a life that is satisfying and fulfilling. Even so, you are remarkably logical and clear thinking. You certainly do not fit the profile of a borderline psychotic.” Richard paused. “Next week I want to look into the reason why you created this fantasy in the first place. This is the key to liberating you from your dependency on it. Maybe then you will be better able to integrate into the real world and interact with people.”

  “And the truth, without shrink talk?” Guy said calmly.

  “The truth?”

  “Remember what Bion said about truth being food for the mind.”

  Richard breathed in deeply. “I don’t even know where to begin or how to digest all of this. That’s the truth.”

  “Thank you for that, Doctor. I knew I could trust you.” Guy pushed himself up in the sofa.

  “Before you go, there’s one more thing I think I need to point out,” Richard said firmly.

  Guy sat back down like a schoolboy who was caught trying to leave class before the bell. “What’s that?”

  Richard looked directly at Guy with a flat expression. “In everything you’ve told me, you have a very unusual way of presenting yourself.”

  “What do you mean?” Guy averted his eyes from Richard’s.

  “The Guy I see before me is gregarious, extroverted, witty, self-centered, and at times polemic and aggressive, but the Guy you have described to me on the island is shy, socially awkward, altruistic, and mostly passive.”

  Guy grinned widely. “Now I know you really were listening to me.”

  Richard stared at Guy as if he wished he had the power to penetrate the surface and see who lay beneath. “Who are you really?”

  “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be helping me to discover?”

  Richard slowly blinked and continued to study Guy, but he didn’t respond.

  “Doc, I had that dream again last night, but this time it was different. This time, in the dream I am floating in a rubber raft towards a beach. There are two beautiful naked young men playing together in the surf. One is smaller and blond and the other very large and muscular. They see me and start to jump and wave. The larger man dives into the surf and swims out towards my raft. The smaller one darts out of the surf and runs down the beach waving and calling to an old man who is sitting on a cliff watching. ‘Grandfather, Grandfather,’ he calls. ‘He has come back home!’”

  Richard looks at his watch. “We need to discuss this next week.”

  “Oh no, sorry, Doc. I can’t next week.” Guy stood up. “I’ve booked a small sailing trip for a couple of days, just to relax and get a little sun and fresh air.”

  “I’m envious. I could use a short vacation.” Richard swiveled around in his chair as Guy moved toward the door. “We’ll see each other the week after, then. Have a good trip.”

  “I plan to,” Guy said brightly. “Thanks again for the truth.”

  “Guy.” Richard spoke his name as if they were old friends.

  Guy paused.

  “Thank you too.” Richard threw him a quick wink.

  Guy bowed his head, then disappeared out the door.

  Chapter 27: The Letter

  Bermuda, October 5th 2009

  Dear Doc,

  I am writing to let you know that our appointments are indefinitely canceled.

  You kept your word and gave me the truth, so I think you deserve the same.

  I may have filled in a few details and embellished some events here and there that I didn’t actually witness, but other than that the story I told you was exactly the way I remember it—except for the ending.

  As you know, when Molap told everyone about the little tryst between Luca and Dzil, the shit hit the fan. But the big joke was on Luca! After all his ranting about wanting to be “a real man,” he couldn’t even keep his erection long enough to put a bun in Dzil’s oven. She was pissed to say the least. That didn’t stop her from taking advantage of the situation and accusing Luca of trying to rape her.

  Dzil and the Tara, however, didn’t find Luca up at his camp, because he and Kizo were already down at the beach stowing away the last of the gold. They had just pushed off and climbed into the boat by the time everybody caught up with them. That’s when Dzil, or one of her crazy warriors, launched a pig spear directly at Luca. Kizo, that fool, saw it coming and took the spear for Luca. Luca just kept rowing as the lovesick Tin Man fell overboard. He didn’t even pause to see if Kizo was alive or dead. Regrets or not, he made his escape and left everyone else to clean up his mess. He rowed out past the reef and out to sea until he was swallowed by a curtain of fog.

  After about a week of drifting around he spotted land, one of the small islands off the Florida Keys. Even though he had arrived back safe and sound, he still faced some serious charges for abandoning ship, and he probably had some hard prison time to do, not to mention a lot of other questions about the gold he could not and did not want to answer.

  Guy, on the other hand, was a blank sheet, white as the driven snow. After all that time on the island together and all those evening talks on the cliff, Luca knew practically every detail of Guy’s life. It was Luca who had been watching Guy from the shadows with voyeuristic fascination. Luca thought, why not borrow Guy’s identity and start over? Heaven knows Guy wouldn’t be back again to use it.

  In those days, identity theft was a lot easier. A few letters to Guy’s crazy aunt professing his commitment to the living Jesus and explaining his missionar
y work with the savages of the Caribbean got her signature on a Canadian passport application. The rest was child’s play.

  Not knowing what else to do, Luca decided to pick up where Guy left off, and he went back to school as a mature student, got a PhD in anthropology and a job at Toronto University.

  But he couldn’t let the past go, and he wallowed in his remorse. Every anthropology text he read brought him back to the island. For all his bullshit about being bisexual and all his self-loathing, he finally had to admit that he had only ever been in love with two men and there had only ever been two men who had loved him.

  As the years went by, each new face and body he woke up with seemed to look more and more like that big, sweet Tin Man on the island. He probably would have ended it all, except one thing kept him from doing it. He had to get back. He had to know what had happened to Guy. He had to know if Kizo was still alive. It gave him a reason to keep going.

  So there it is, Doc. Now you know the truth. Luca grew up alone and had never had anyone who truly loved him. When he washed up on the shores of the island, he finally found two people who were willing to sacrifice their own lives for him. But how could anyone love him when he hated himself so much? So he dumped them both for some sacks of gold coins.

  Even when he got a second chance for a new life and came back as Guy, he wasn’t able to do much better.

  By the time you read this, one of two things will have happened. Either I am floating facedown in the sea somewhere, or I have found my way back to the Islands of the Stars.

  Remember the fourth principle of lying. It doesn’t really matter if anyone else believes my story, as long as I do. But thanks for listening anyways.

  Your patient, Luca

  P.S. In this packet you’ll find a key to a box in the Royal Bank, Church and Wellesley branch. The box number is 1066, in your name. There is enough gold left to take Armando to a tropical island somewhere. Bon voyage.