The Tale of the Widow

Gypsy Lou began:

"I was in the Mediterranean, returning to Ibiza by ferry from a nearby island and already, the land mass drew closer on the late afternoon horizon. I stood on deck with my hands on the rail and gazed out over the sheets of turquoise and blue that coated the sea and sky. I knew that nothing could be more beautiful. I was wrong.

Because as I looked down at the level below and across from where I stood, my eyeballs made cartwheels as I saw the Girl of My Dreams. Okay, probably not just the sweetheart of my dreams, I guess, as no one could have seen her and kept a steady heart rate. When it comes to beauty I make little distinction between men and women. I longed to have her.

My eyes sipped her body inch by inch and I melted where I stood. She was slim and petite yet sh seemed to be made only out of curves. She wore a simple red dress that fluttered in the wind a little above her knees and she was shining like butter in the pan. Her head could have been the model for a doll and she was only a little taller than a child.

She was tanned like the twilight and her eyes were wide and believing. Her lips were full and red, suggesting that nothing but honey could flow from that mouth. I couldn’t imagine how such a treasure could be alone and I wondered if she might be very young. Her swelling breasts seemed untouched and virgin and her pure expression showed nothing but trusting innocence.

She turned and saw that I was staring at her. She blushed and blessed me with a shy smile of invitation, my blood racing to be under her eyes. I had no choice but to go over and talk to her. But as I started to make my move, a gruff hand gripped my shoulder and a German voice urged in my ear:

‘Don't go. You don't know what danger you're in.’ I saw the look in your eyes."

I tried to break free but he insisted.

‘I warn you - This girl has already been the doom of three that I have known and probably many more.’

‘What the fuck are you on about?" I snarled, "Are you crazy or something? How could a sweetheart like that harm anyone?’

‘No one knows - But you cannot argue with reality. We call her the Widow because no one who falls in love with her soon meets with a terrible death. Please listen to me.’

|Shooting me a disappointed glance, my fragile goddess slipped into an adjacent bathroom. Now that I had no choice but to wait a few minutes, I turned to face the mad talk of this ugly German who still held my arm. His face was set in thick, heavy bulges that gleamed with the unattractive sweat of an alcoholic. He told me:

"You must listen. The first man that I saw go with her was in the Spring of this year when I was still a stranger here. The poor guy walked into the bar with that girl on his arm and everybody looked away. The normally tranquil landlady told him he'd better clear his existing bill and a terrible argument started. It ended up with the young guy storming out of the bar and the girl went after him.

Well then there was a screech of wheels and an awful thud that made everyone wince. No one but me needed to run outside to see what had happened - He'd been killed instantly, his skull cracked under the wheels of the express bus from San Juan.’

‘So okay,’ I objected, ‘One guy has some bad luck. You can't blame-‘

‘The second time was a month later,’ my acquaintance continued sadly in his unstoppable drawl, ‘I was lying on a small beach to the North of the island, suffering after a night of heavy drinking.

Suddenly there was a man's scream from around the corner where the rocks open out into dark, cool caves. Then we heard the screams of a woman and two young heroes near me jumped into their dinghy and drove off to the rescue. The boat came back a few minutes later with four people on board - but only three of them were alive.

Everyone on the beach gathered round as they pulled the boat up onto the sand. The Widow lay sobbing over the body of her lover - he was cold dead. His eyes were bloodshot and diluted with water. And there was a fleshy tail still flapping around his ankle.

They had been swimming in the hidden twists of the cave, enjoying themselves in the secrecy of the dark. Then in one moment, the poor man was dragged under the water by a huge eel - It wrapped around his ankle and would not let go. The two local boys cut him free with a diving knife but they were too late.’

Ibiza was close, now and my Dream Girl was back by the railing, talking to someone but flashing me coy looks all the while.

‘So okay, two,’ I protested feebly but my self-appointed saviour had not finished.

‘The third was one of my oldest and greatest friends, named Raphael. I met with him in a cafe for breakfast one morning and he was glowing all over with happiness. He told me that after so many sad, lonely years, he had at last met the most wonderful woman in the world and that they were dizzy with love for one another. I was very happy to see my friend on such a high and so I ordered a celebration round of 'small curses' - you know? Black expressos mixed with whiskey.

'Ah, here comes my angel now.' He said and my heart sank as I turned to see the Widow drift in as if on ice. They kissed and it felt like a cloud passed over us.

I knew it was useless to try and explain things to him - he would have thought it useless superstition or jealousy. So, for the next three weeks, I followed them night and day, just to be on hand if I could do something to save him. I carried a set of all kinds of anti-venoms and a pistol to shoot any wild animal. My first aid kit was always near me and I secretly checked the condition of his engine and brakes when they went into restaurants to eat.

I slept in my jeep outside their hotel window. A sudden shout from their room would alert me to any danger he might face in the night. Of course, finally, we ran into each other too many times for him to believe it coincidence. With heavy bags under his eyes, Raphael took me to the side with a grave expression:

'My friend, just what is going on?' He asked. It was no use trying to hide my mind from him - He knew me too well. So I poured out the whole story and waited for him to walk away in disgust. But he didn't. Instead his face just turned as grey as ashes.

'I would simply assume you had drunk too much tequila in the sun,' he said, 'Were it not for the fact that I didn't sleep for a minute last night for some terrible stabbing pains in my back. I have made an appointment with a local doctor this evening.' He paused to wipe sweat from his forehead and confided, 'My father died with the same agony of the kidneys.'

The doctor advised him to seek specialist advice in Barcelona and the Widow went with him. Despite what I had told him, he couldn't abandon the love of his life because of a mere superstition. I stayed in constant contact with the hospital and, two weeks later, I received a fax, informing me that Raphael had died at the age of 36, victim of a hereditary kidney disease that had hithero gone undetected."

Our boat drew into the port and the Maiden of Death moved down to mount her little blue scooter. She looked back at me over a graceful shoulder and I moved towards the awaiting saddle space behind her. But the German clutched me yet again, shouting in my ear:

"No. For your own sake - Don't go."

I elbowed him in the gut and broke free - but too late, for she'd turned around sadly, put on her helmet and drove down the gangway onto the island.

"Believe me, fraulein," He assured me, gasping for breath, "I have just saved your life."

I scowled back at him and went my way alone. And though Ibiza is a small island, I never saw her again.”

Chapter 24