Page 15 of To Feel Like This Again
Strolling through the mountain and enjoying our tour, I whisper in Lisa’s ear, “Let’s go over there”, showing her a trail and mischievously suggesting we veer off the main track.
Did my lip touch her ear? I think so. Yup, from her reaction, it definitely had brushed her ear.
“Okay,” she whispers back, then giggles.
We slow down to allow the two groups trailing behind us to move ahead. And like naughty kids on a school trip, we sneak away from the pack, cutting through the forest and following the sound of water trickling nearby. As we get closer to the stream — the trickling sound getting louder — we pick a handful of unique-looking fruits. I’m no pomologist, but I’m certain it’s a bastard cousin of berries.
Following the sound, yanking out debris to clear the path, and climbing over and under branches, we finally catch sight of the stream. I hear Lisa whisper, “Gorgeous.” Just one more low-hanging branch to test our gymnastics skills and we’re there.
Wow. She is flexible. Yoga-flexible.
In the stream, we sit on a rock large enough to hold both of us comfortably, remove our shoes and dip our feet in the water.It is coldbut feels great.
As we snack on what was the last of our berries (let’s call it that until we are told otherwise), we have a light-hearted conversation about our favourite movies. Showing her a different side of me, I share that I like one of her favourites,The Notebook. Thank God one of my exes had pestered me to watch it. Totally worth it.
Another one of her all-time favourites is the one and only,Pretty Woman.
“This is really embarrassing, but I recently watchedPretty Womanagain, like it was my very first time. I must’ve seen it at least ten times,” she confesses, smiling and tossing a tiny pebble into the stream.
Then continuing, “After I first saw the movie in the cinema, Richard Gere became one of my favourite actors.”
“Have you ever seenUnfaithful? He stars in it,” I ask curiously, or strategically.
“Yes. I have,” she responds quietly.
“Did you like it?”
“I did.”
“We should get going now,” I say while standing up, before reaching for her hand to help her up.
Listening out for voices, we track down the rest of the group like seasoned hunters and rejoin them like we had never left in the first place. We cut in front of Patrick and Jean who are lagging behind the group to take pictures. Patrick nods and Jean winks. Their way of saying, “We know what you did.”
In response, I put my finger to my lips. My way of saying “Don’t tell anyone”.
Behaving ourselves, like adults this time around, we enjoy the rest of the tour. At the end of it, we are treated to the most premium coffee in the island, reserved only for this tour.This is beautiful. Sitting on the grass, cut off from the outside world, having a cup of coffee with a beautiful woman.In simplicity, you find beauty.
After we finish our coffee, we walk around aimlessly discussing our insecurities, our ambitions, our fearsgetting to knoweach other on a deeper level. Something I thought I’d never get to experience again. Or maybe, it’s something I am afraid to experience again. Meandering southwest, we stumble across the stream. It’s about three feet deep at this part of the mountain, in effect blocking us from getting to the other side.
“I guess we have to turn back,” I suggest, hoping she will object.
“No, we can’t,” Lisa says, brushing me off. And while pointing at the look-out point, insists, “The best view is on the other side.”
“Okay, cool. I’ve an idea.”
“You do? What?”
“Hop on,” I tell her, bending over and pointing to my back. “I’ll give you a piggy-back-ride.”
“Are you being serious right now?”
“I’m not going to repeat,” I say sternly.
“Yes, sir.” Laughing, she jumps on my back, lock her feet in my arms, and wrap her arms around my neck.
“Is this your first piggy-back-ride?” I question; willing to bet it is.
“It is,” sounding very pleased with herself.
