Melania and the unbearable certainty of climate change

melania
Credit: Reuters (edited)

When climate change came knocking on Melania’s door disguised in the form of a hot Puerto Rican soldier, she knew that it would take more than a nuclear code to oppress what had just been unearthed.

That night, lying in bed next to her husband in his new house, she could not sleep.

It was not the usual sense of entrapment and disdain that engulfed her whenever she had to share a bed with him. It was definitely not about the excitement of the day, nor the overwhelming grandeur of the new house that her predecessor warned her about, it was different.

She recalled the dance, all its details: how it started, the beauty of her dancing partner, his charming smile, the cheeky twirl – oh the twirl! – and his hands. He had big hands. Big masculine hands as all men’s hands should be. When they touched her, she felt the ice melt in her poles, the water rose and all control was lost.

She was now lying in that bed for hours and all she could think about was the unbearable certainty of climate change, and how it came in the form of hot latinos that no walls could possibly stop.

She thought once more about the twirl. She remembered how she came to this land twenty years ago searching for a dream – a dream that involved magical twirls by magical men with big hands. She achieved many dreams, but also forgot about many, like everyone, she had to make do with alternative dreams.

When she left her hometown, she had a lover. Also a young handsome boy of the type that causes global warming and drawn planets from pole to pole. The day she left, she kissed him on the cheek and told him she was not coming back, and that he was a boy and this was not a world for boys no matter how handsome they were. She left and found herself a spot in the world of men, she learned in the passing of years to ignore her natural desire for a warmth – rich men with small hands could not provide it nor believed in it – she accepted that destiny and embraced it until the handsome Puerto Rican soldier stirred her world one more time and rendered her sleepless in the glorified house.

She finally gave up on sleep. She got off her bed, opened the curtains of the room and looked outside at her brave new world. The husband was sound asleep – unlike other powerful men she knew, this one could sleep like a baby. That was in part why she chose him over other richer more powerful men. She thought that a person who slept so deeply, must have not committed grave sins. Not yet at least.

She opened the door of the terrace and stepped outside. The city was clearly sad that night but still preserved its glamour and some of its pride. She closed her eyes and listened to the end of the night sounds from far away. The handsome Puerto Rican kept creeping into her thoughts like an illegal trespasser undeterred by barriers and protocol.

She gave up on banning him off her thoughts, and in a rare moment of self-reconciliation, she started taking her clothes off, she had a habit of wearing as many layers as possible when she laid next to her husband. She took off her top slowly as if seducing a helpless imaginary onlooker, her eyes were still closed, she proceeded to strip naked in no particular rush. She was now free of her clothes. She put her arms around her slender body to protect it from the chill of the winter and the glorified house. And then she opened her eyes, and saw the soldier in front of her in the terrace. She hugged him and allowed him one more dance, her completely naked, him in the prestigious military suit. The dance was even more unsettling than the first one and the melting poles were definitely more real than her presence in that place. She could no longer feel the chill of a January night. She kissed the soldier on the cheek and said goodbye, she thought about telling him that this was not a world for boys no matter how handsome they were, but then thought that boys like him always had the last dance, they only could cause global warming and that, at the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

As the soldier left, walking slowly on the terrace of the magical house into the darkness of the January sky, she opened her arms widely to the city that she now owned but didn’t want, absorbed the undeniable charm of her new world and accepted its lamentable lack of magical twirls. She didn’t feel the cold anymore, her whole body was warming up and the temperature raising causing floods of delight and elation.

She went again inside her room. The husband still asleep, she shook him aggressively and told him assertively:

“I believe in climate change”.

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