Intellivision

It has been thirteen days since we've been eating half-cooked crustaceans and some seaweed. We haven't bathed; we're no longer wearing clean clothes.

The island isn't bad, but being alone in a cabin, awaiting the arrival of the aerial rescue patrol, is not exactly what I dreamed of for celebrating our 20th wedding anniversary. The idea of a private island just for the two of us was something that excited me immediately. When we arrived, the tourism employees treated us like kings, showed us around, and then left in a helicopter. The challenge of being alone, without a chef, without cleaners, and without any kind of assistance, sounded like an exciting adventure.

But the damn storm that lasted almost ten days, the hurricane-force winds, and the power outage dashed our plans. And it left us here. Trapped in a promised paradise.

What I don't understand is why the rescue helicopter isn't coming for us when the tourism company made it clear they could come at the slightest inconvenience.

Isn't this an inconvenience?

I need to cut the catastrophic thoughts. The sky is very cloudy… but we are alive.

It's time for lunch. I enter the cabin. I have no idea what the hell I'll prepare.

In any case, the lack of food doesn't worry me as much. What truly concerns me is Matilde. She came with her Olanzapine pills strictly for seven days. And honestly, after several moons without taking them, I'm starting to notice her acting strange. It's not something notably serious, but it's starting to bother me. For the past three days, for example, I've noticed that she isn't sleeping well. And just last night, I saw her sitting on the floor, staring at me. I pretended to be asleep, but I know she was watching me for hours.

Now she's sleeping. She has been doing that for several days every morning. That happens when she's depressed.

About last night... the staring... I don't know what to think. What could she have been thinking at that moment when she was watching me? Would she look at me with love? With hatred? With resentment?

Hatred for what? Resentment for what?

Matilde and I have never had serious relationship problems. The only critical moment was when our younger son was six years old. We argued a lot about how we were raising him. It was strange. With our older son, we never had disagreements about setting limits and rules. The younger, on the other hand, made us clash. His temperament was different from his brother's. He was more impulsive, less rational, more histrionic, and oppositional. I chose to relax and let him do some things, probably less advisable, trusting that he would grow up and balance out.

Matilde, on the other hand, interpreted my flexibility as an act of irresponsible parenting. The worst part: the agreements we reached, I almost always violated them. For example, the idea that he couldn't have soda until he was at least ten was an unforgettable bomb. I said I wouldn't buy him sodas, but when we were alone and he asked for a bottle of it, I had no problem giving it to him. I asked him, though, not to tell his mother.

However, one time he did. And she found out not only about the drink but also that on Saturdays, we didn't go to the park as we made her believe, but we always went to play video games. She felt very disappointed, very disrespected by me. I apologized. Logical. But there was no way. I, on the other hand, had to accept that he went to yoga classes with her. For Matilde, what I thought about yoga wasn't important, and I had to accept it. Her rules were perfect, my ideas to make my son happy were not. Ok. Someday, time will prove me right," I thought inside of my mental core. We went to therapy for her to heal her wound. And symbolically and on the therapist's advice, we even signed a "Peace document". Looking into her eyes, I committed to fulfill HER will.

Two months later, I gave my son soda again and took him to play video games. I really didn't see anything wrong with that. I didn't think that allowing the kid to have a damn strawberry soda once a week would turn him into a cyber addict or an incorrigible obese person.

When the kid had his soda and played racing cars on the machines, I saw him so happy that I didn't care about the miserable agreements of a woman who never played video games and who never drank soda because she faithfully believed in yoga gurus who, for her, were like her gods.

Also, she was never given an Intellivision* when she was the same age as my boy. I was. I always knew what it was like to play on consoles. It's an untransferable experience.

Besides, with video games or not; with soda or water, with yoga or squashed all Saturday afternoon in front of the TV watching some horror saga... you're still going to die.

Our kid turned out to be a good man. He never developed any addictions and is now entering his first year of law school at a university that has granted him a full scholarship. I feel that, deep down, I was right, and she lost in the upbringing. I know it sounds a bit childish, but... what can you expect from someone like me who has played video games almost all his life? Anyway, I don't think Matilde hates me for that. We have never talked about the subject again. But I don't think she hates me for that.

I caught a crab and desperately try to build a fire to see if I can cook it. The problem is that everything is wet. Everything. I'm bathed in sweat, just like the kitchen table, the clothes, and everything around me. The storm is an expert in leaving sequels.

The only thing that isn't wet is Matilde's crotch. That's why we came: the excuse of celebrating our 20th wedding anniversary was really to see if the solitude and the escape from the world would rekindle the sexual flame that has also been extinguishing like the crab's fire.

She says she doesn't lack desire. But over time, I have ceased to be that accomplice guy who accompanied her in everything, supported her, and above all, made her laugh.

I don't understand why women need you to make them laugh to be able to have sex. And to be frank, I don't have anything to laugh about now.

At what point did I stop loving her? I think the feeling diluted amid the upbringing. I'm convinced that my younger son was to blame... and the Olanzapine and yoga and video games and soda and the guru who harassed children.

I hear her behind me:

"Love."

I get scared. I turn around. I see her looking at me with the same attitude she had last night while she thought I was asleep:

- Lunch is almost ready. - I lie.

- Didn't you hear the helicopter?

- What helicopter?

- The captain is outside waiting for us. They came to rescue us.

I go out with her hand in hand and find the helicopter on the beach, running, and the captain waving at me. But what catches my attention the most is seeing my younger son in the aircraft:

- Don't look at me like that. I came because I was worried about you. - He told me.

He gets off, gives us a hug, and whispers in my ear:

"The tourism company is very sorry. They say they'll compensate you for the inconveniences... it seems that the check exceeds 50 thousand... you didn't expect it, did you?"

And he bursts into laughter and hugs me tighter. He loads our suitcases and helps his mother get into the helicopter.

For a moment, I stand there watching Matilde finish settling in the back seat while she smiles at the captain.

All that's left is for me to get on the helicopter. One move and that's it. But a lightning bolt slaps my mind. And the sour tastes of the seaweed run through my blind marrow.

I see Matilde, I see my beloved son. And just when they expect me to board, I take a breath, turn around, and run with my desperate child stuck to my soul towards the thickets of the island, away from the beach and without looking back.

I know it's a ridiculous plan, what I'm doing. I know my son must be getting off the aircraft and running after me. I know he'll catch me, that he'll trap me in his arms and tell me to calm down, that everything bad is over. I know he'll attribute it to the stress of so many days on an island alone with his mother. I know Matilde will pretend it's about that. I know I'll return to the helicopter, that we'll fly to solid ground to our empty home. We'll lie down in our marital bed. I know we'll tell the story to all our friends, and they'll make fun of us.

But I'm also clear that from tomorrow, I'll find a way to kill my wife and buy an Intellivision on eBay.

As we were leaving the island, I noticed that the thickness of the trees had that brown color of the console. In Matilde's eyes, I saw the accomplice who never was, and in my son's eyes, the absence of a disappeared child who made me so happy.

*Intellivision is a video game console that was released in 1979. It was developed by Mattel Electronics as a competitor to the popular Atari 2600 console. Intellivision offered superior graphics and technical capabilities compared to some other consoles of the time.

The Intellivision console had a unique controller with a numeric keypad and a directional disk, allowing for a variety of controls in games. Throughout its lifespan, numerous games were released for Intellivision, spanning different genres such as sports, action, and adventure.

While Intellivision did not achieve the same level of commercial success as some other consoles of its era, it left its mark on the history of video games and is fondly remembered by retro gaming enthusiasts. Currently, there are initiatives to revive the Intellivision brand with a new console called the "Intellivision Amico," aiming to capture the nostalgic essence of the original console while incorporating new technologies and games.