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“This looks like a great spot,” he smiles as we settle down, looking at each other joyfully. The beach is so intimate and special. It’s surrounded by small village houses. The atmosphere it magical and intoxicating. There are hardly any people. I take off my beach dress and reveal my white pretty bikini that complements my tanned skin. Michael looks at me, pleased. He smiles faintly.
“Come on, let’s go!” he cried out and we run together to the water.
I plunge into the water, allowing the seawater to wash away all the troubles of the past with it. I give in to the soft sun, the flickering light reflecting off the water. I float on my back, as my soul soaks in the tranquility, the quiet and the sea’s mystery. I turn to him slowly, smiling, and then swim towards the breakwater. Michael swims behind me and slows down his natural swimming pace. We both breathe in the bliss sprouting within us. I try to catch my breath and I hold on to a small rock sticking out of the water, covered with algae and seashell shards.
“Are you having a good time?” Michael smiles brightly. “You’re so beautiful when you smile.” He looks into my eyes. His bewitching eyes gorgeously and marvelously blend with the blue of the sea. A sly smile spreads on my face.
“It’s perfect.”
“Come on! Let’s take a picture of you on this rock,” he insists as he pulls his cellphone out of his waterproof pouch.
“Okay,” I smile and start posing in various positions. The pictures will be a lovely souvenir of these days, a souvenir that I could use to reminisce and draw the strength and optimism that my character lacks.
“Should we go back?” Michael asks me when we finish, reaching his hand out.
“Sure,” I smile again, and we swim back to the beach.
“That was a cleansing dip,” I say to him as I come out of the water, panting and trying to catch my breath. “I love the sea so much.”
“Me too,” he smiles as he emerges behind me, turns me around and pulls me into a warm and wet embrace.
We sit together, talk, laugh, drink extravagant cocktails and eat wedges of a seedless watermelon.
“When we get back home, I have to fly off to an important concert, and then I have a couple of insanely busy months. I’m shooting a new film,” he smiles. “But I’ve already decided it’s going to be my last movie. I’m quitting acting and modeling, it’ll take the pressure off. I want to focus on my music and find some stability in Israel. That’s where I feel most at home,” he explains. “Avi and his family are family to me. That’s where I’ll be able to focus on what really makes me happy and relax. I’m completely exhausted,” he concludes. “I’m not as young as I used to be, age takes its toll you know. . .” he furrows his brows mischievously and smiles.
“Yes,” I agree smilingly, “that cliché is right for a reason.”
His phone rings.
“Excuse me, it’s my sister again. Why the hell does she share with me every little detail of her life at every given moment?” he complains and sighs heavily.
“It’s totally fine,” I smile. While Michael’s busy having a lively conversation with Michelle, I explore the beach, collect some special seashells, sit on the sand and start playing, building castles. It’s just like Roy does. I smile, trace names on the warm, soft sand, give in to the scent of the sea, to the sense of true freedom, and I cherish it.
“Sam, would you like to ride a jet ski together?” he surprises from behind and asks with a burst of excitement. “Come with me, I’ll show you.”
“Really? How fun!” I reply immediately. Michael drags me by the hand, and we approach the sea attractions area.
“Réquin, what’s up, dude?” Michael asks.
“Hey, you’re already back?” Réquin replies with surprise, then hugs him warmly.
“Yes, the other day,” Michael explains. “This time, the circumstances are different,” he says and points in my direction.
“Quite impressive circumstances,” Réquin nods.
Michael smiles and mutely agrees.
“Thanks,” I smile embarrassedly.
“We’re here to get things going. Where’s the jet I like?” Michael asks and cuts the small talk. Réquin points at one of the jet skis.
“There, but don’t you go disappearing like last time, it doesn’t have a lot of gas,” he warns him.
“I’m with a girl, I can’t really disappear.”
They shake hands on it in a friendly gesture, then pat each other’s backs and smile.
“Come on, Sam, let’s go. Put your purse on your shoulder, leave your hat on the chair and pull up your hair. Come on!” And so I did.
