I woke up brutally to his yelling from the bathroom.
“Someone broke in during the night!” he screamed, his hands flapping in the air, as if he was trying to express his distress with semaphore. Who still knows semaphore anyway, I meant to ask him, but I didn’t think that would be of any help…
“They took all your Montréal memories away!”
Montréal? That barely rang a bell, now that he mentioned it. I could see all the maple leaf and fleur de lysée flags on my bags in the corner of the room, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I had those stitched in.
“Vof vof!” The weird sound came from the bath tub. Nervously, he pulled the curtain away, revealing a dog and two sheep sitting in the tub. “Woof!” he shouted back, while the dog tilted its head to the side… “Vof Vof!” barking back again, as if it was arguing.
“No! This is no time to eat, stupid dog!” he replied at once, and I looked at him, wondering where on Earth he could have learned Icelandic. In Tibet, of course… I suddenly remembered how he had brought his Icelandic Harry Potter to practice while I was getting my sun tan/burn lying on the sandy beach along the Zhaga Qu River, only wearing my prettiest smile.
His gaze went from the Icelandic sheepdog back to me, and I could see the disappointment in his eyes. “There’s nothing Montréalish left about you!” he murmured, with a let-me-get-you-a-one-way-ticket-to-Albania-honey tone to his voice. But I was no girl to give up our traveling together over such futile details…
“Why don’t we settle that simmering in the Blue Lagoon, my dear? I hear the warm waters work miracles!”
His eyes brightened a bit, “Blue Lagoon, uh? Come on Leifar! Come along, boy!! Nope, you leave your sheep here!” and within minutes we were driving fast and furiously on the Iceland countryside roads.
“Why Leifar, my love?” His gaze left the road for a second, rolling his eyes at me, as if I was oblivious to the obvious. “Leifar… Leftover… That’s all we have now, wouldn’t you say?”
I left him to think he was right, and in no time, he was pulling out in the Blue Lagoon’s parking.
“Let’s go skinny dippin’ Baby!” he declared, in a less than enthusiastic way.
It was a given, though, since we hadn’t packed swimsuits for our Mars escapade. “Vof vof!” barked Leifar, as we left Leftover behind, hoping to heal my Tibet sunburns and loss of interest from my one and only.
Undressing by the steamy waters, I was trying to focus on how smooth my skin would feel, after a good bathing in the turquoise natural pool, when I noticed a sparkle in his eyes… Following his gaze, I looked down my ankle and noticed something that had eluded my mind, throughout the day.
The little white and blue flag, tattooed down on my leg…
“Oooh yeah Baby… Dive in! We can always visit Reykjavik’s Police Station tomorrow to get your memories back. That should be interesting…”
But things were already getting interesting, if you ask me.
This piece is the work of Cyranny. She is my first, one and only, guest contributor with her slant on my Fantasy Travel Series. You can find a lot more of her Canadian poetry, fiction, stories about her Cat – hmm -not a dog, and humor here: https://cyranny.wordpress.com/
PS Don’t be fooled about her love for Denmark. Everyone is allowed at least one mistake in their lives about an idea they had…..