For three months had Carol been working at that resort on the other side of the island; it had helped putting something else on her mind, and she already looked so much better since the accident last winter. What a mess she was then! We thought--I thought--that we could accept the loss like adults, but how was I to understand the suffering when a young life was taken from us before it had even breathed in this world, and before we could give it the chance to thrill and experience all the beauties in this world--when it was her womb that bore the mortal burden and then witnessed its untimely demise?
Too much had been spent and sacrificed in making our miracle happen, and it would be near impossible to start again. I knew Carol blamed herself for the loss, for it was while she was on stage performing her favorite role, holding the evil dagger as Lady Macbeth, that the miscarriage happened. I tried my best to help her see things differently, but the void in her heart grew larger and her mood deteriorated daily, until one night I almost lost Carol too, had I not returned home earlier than usual.
Our moving away from the dismal lakeside metropolis proved to be a most fortunate decision. What a lovely refuge this island was! Carol slept better than ever at night despite the air conditioner in our motel room sounding like an old tractor. She loved hearing those birds every morning when she left for work--so many of them just kept bickering in their pleasant grove! With Carol gone for the day, I would ride around places and contemplate my next book while hiking along the less-traveled trails. The island being a generally safe haven from both human and wildlife hazards made me fear little when traveling alone.
The work at the resort was stressful, and often Carol was left in a wrecked state at the end of a day, too spent to start any real intimacy with me. She used to lock herself in the bathroom after her return, and I remembered leaning against the door and singing her favorite songs, until eventually she felt better and came out, and we would embrace, and kiss those hot tears away from each other's cheeks. I often worried that she might hurt herself again, but as time went on, Carol really seemed to get better, and nowadays she would return from work with a most heightened spirit, as if regretting to have left too early. I was glad that she had found meaning in what she did again, even if it might not her real passion.
There were moments, however, when I had an uneasy feeling--that beneath her wholesome appearance, Carol was hiding something from me. She avoided talking about her work, and was at times even mildly vexed, when it was nothing more than a mere curiosity on my part to ask. Her body also seemed to take on unexplainable changes too. Carol was long known to have a notoriously placid sex drive, but now I found her to be so eager at times, that a soft tender kiss on her nipples would have sent her lady parts all moist. Such things perplexed me, but I knew better than to obsess over them. Perhaps the tropical climate was naturally favorable, though I sure wished such wonderful effect was as apparent on me as it was on Carol.
Whenever Carol left me for those long nightshift duties I would leave a light on for her, knowing that the next morning she would be by my side again, deep in her tired but content slumber. After such nights she would be allowed a break, and we would head to our secret cove not far from the motel. It was a quiet spot infrequently visited by tourists, and most of time we were left alone by ourselves. Carol and I would frolic and caress each other in the chilly blue water until the sunset sent its golden rays dancing upon the gentle waves. She looked truly happy and carefree in these moments, just like when I first met her.
