Designs of the Heart

by Renee Ryder

  Until the phone call she couldn’t find the key to her problem. Now she understood why: she always focused on the wrong thing. First Ryan, then Nico. First her mother, then Susan. No! The focus had to be herself. No one but herself!

  Keisha had flipped on the light switch for her by asking what was troubling her. Reluctant to talk about Nico after explaining Ryan’s absence, she’d replied by digressing with the story of how the ‘other part of herself’ emerged when she came to Italy. But, surprisingly, in that evasion the truth lurked.

  The paranoia that had shaken her during the dinner with the Corwins and then kept her awake arose from the terror that she was starting to fall for Nico. Now she could admit it. Now she could stop twisting herself into contorted shapes to avoid brushing against the truth. She was no longer afraid of the words because calling things by their name cleared away the fog.

  Now she laughed at herself for being afraid of the handsome fisherman catching her. How could she have thought that? She wasn’t an experienced woman like Keisha, but also not a naive teenager dealing with her first crush. She only loved Ryan! Perhaps she knew him even better than Susan did. During their twenty-three months together, she had shared so many wonderful moments with him, like the mini-cruise around Puget Sound and weekend in Vegas. Also some drama and sadness, like her brief pregnancy. He came from her same world. His life was going in the same direction as hers. And above all, their bond had been tested by time. Nico was attractive and she considered him kind and good, but then again she’d only spent three afternoons and two mornings with him. Far too fast to think about love. Moreover, they came from very different realities and cultures, as well as from two very distant continents, and this made that chance anything but tempting. That he’d found a special place in her heart was true, but it had nothing to do with love. It was because he’d helped her bring out that part of herself where her very essence was kept. That’s why she’d felt an intimate bond with him, but the consequent, boundless gratitude towards him had confused her. Add to that their common Italian roots, the stunt Ryan had pulled, and the loneliness suffered during the vacation, it was all a perfect set-up for her misinterpretation. And he, equally grateful, equally bewitched by the affinity of their souls, equally misled by events, had believed he was falling for her, too. A huge misunderstanding. That was what had happened. The proof of it? When, in the grotto, she’d read joy rather than sadness on his face. “An inexplicable contradiction,” she’d thought at the time. But now the truth was pretty clear: she’s simply acted as a tool for him to reclaim his hope in life. The same way he’d been a tool for her to meet Anna, the part of herself that had been wandering lost in the depths of her conscience for years. Yes, Anna. She decided on the name in honor of Nico.

  Therefore, she hadn’t used him and broken his heart. What an enormous relief!

  As for the doubt that Susan—based on the traces left around the apartment or simply suspicions—had sussed out the lie about the afternoon with Nico, she no longer worried about it. She hadn’t done anything wrong and that was the truth. Ryan’s arrival would set everything right.

  The puzzle that had seemed impossible to complete due to missing and damaged pieces now magically joined together into a happy ending for everybody.

  Satisfied, she went to the beach with the Corwins.

  They swam together to the buoys that marked off the swim area and had a spirited chat about the supermarket while floating there. Then, all three returned together to their umbrella.

  “I can’t believe you’re still mad at that checker,” Roger mumbled, placing his deckchair in front of the sun.

  “Not at her, but at the store manager,” replied Susan, who preferred to sit in the coolness under the umbrella. “Their organization is awful. No one will ever change my mind.”

  Having already expressed her opinion about it while they swam, she took care in placing the three towels over the umbrella to dry them in the sun.

  “For me, it’s all about space,” Roger insisted as he reclined back in the chair. “A small store can’t have the same efficiency as our supermarkets.”

  “I’m not comparing them. I’m just saying that with more organization, they’d have better service. For example, I counted six checkstands.”

  “I counted four.”

  “Four, plus two inactive ones,” said Susan.

  “Oh. You mean all of the checkstands.”

  “Don’t you see that we agree, darling? What’s the point of having six registers if only—”

  “Hannah, would you pass me my sunglasses before you lie down?”

  “—four work? I could understand it during—”

  “Sure, Roger.”

  “—the off-peak hour. But not at rush hour. Ergo, it’s an organization issue.”

  “I find their system quicker and easier … Thanks, Hannah.” He dropped his hand from shading his eyes and relaxed. “While the checker scans the items, the customer bags ’em.”

  “But why should I do that when I’m also trying to use my credit card? I’m the customer. I don’t work there. I’m giving them work, if anything.”

  “Hannah, you tell her.”

  “Roger, sorry, I think Sue’s right,” she replied, and folded her legs into a yoga position on the straw mat she had unrolled beside him, but in the umbrella’s shade. “If you keep a third of the registers closed, it’s obvious the lines will get backed up.”

  “Thanks for your support, dear.”

  “But you’re both thinking too abstractly. Let’s talk about reality. There are four checkstands with long lines. It’s wrong, but that’s the way it is. How should a lowly checker handle this situation?”

  “That’s why it’s an organization problem.”

  “Okay, Sue. The organization sucks. Agreed. Now let’s take it a step further.”

  She listened to them, finding an amusing contrast between Roger’s resolve to support his thesis and his drowsy voice—he seemed close to falling asleep.

  “Let’s say you’re a customer waiting in line,” he resumed. “You see the checker’s busy scanning stuff and the customer’s watching her, doing nothing. Wouldn’t you think, ‘Instead of standing there with your thumb up your ear, why don’t you put your stuff in the bags? So we all get out of here sooner.’ ”

  “That’s unacceptable. A customer should not have to do the employee’s job.”

  “But it would cut the waiting time in half for all of the customers.”

  “No way! It’s like if our company were renovating an apartment and you told the homeowner, ‘Get the truck and go to the warehouse to load more wood because I have no one to send there.’ ”

  She was about to laugh at Susan’s paradox, but held it back in respect for Roger.

  “It’s not the same thing,” he objected.

  “Why not, darling?”

  “For God’s sake, I don’t understand you. When you go to the self-checkout counters, you bag your purchases and pay by yourself, don’t you?”

  “That’s different,” Susan replied.

  “Yeah, it’d be interesting to understand why your ‘That’s different’ works and my ‘It’s not the same thing’ doesn’t.”

  She sided with Susan, but had to admit Roger’d scored a hit.

  “It’s different because that’s when I buy just a few things, certainly not when my cart is full.”

  “Okay, okay. At the end of the day, you’re always right.”

  “Look,” continued Susan, with the determination of someone who prefers to win in the field rather than by forfeit. “I can understand that it would be too expensive to install self-checkouts in such a small supermarket, but what about hiring baggers like we have?”

  “They don’t hire checkers, so why would they hire baggers? It’s called ‘saving money on staffing.”

  “And what about an express lane?” countered Susan. “Would that affect their budget, too?”

  “Roger, I�
��m afraid you’ll never beat Sue.”

  And in one shot she’d both placated the wife and made the husband chuckle.

  “As the wise man says, ‘If you can’t beat them’ … Would you like any ice-cream?” he asked, standing up. “Talking so much gave me a dry throat.”

  “Yes, darling. A lemon ice pop for me, please.”

  “Okay. And you, Hannah?”

  “Why don’t you tell me which one you’d like and I’ll go get them?”

  “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

  “So,” she got up as Roger sprawled on the deckchair. “A lemon ice and a …?”

  “I’ll go for a popsicle, too. But the strawberry kind with cream inside, like I had the other night.”

  “Ah, I know what you mean.” She pulled her towel down from the umbrella and, while wrapping it around her like a sarong, facing the sea, Nico suddenly came into view. He was standing up rowing the boat, his bronzed torso sweaty and shining in the sun, looking like Apollo riding his chariot towards the shore. A thunderbolt more powerful than the one at the hotel burst through her, triggering a storm of passion as her heart broke free and all of her senses awoke. Suffocated by an unreasonable urge to cry, she used retrieving the wallet from her bag to hide her face from the Corwins and then walked straight towards the cafe across the street, in such a rush that she forgot her flip flops.

  It didn’t make sense what was happening to her. What the hell was this devastating anguish that had appeared out of the blue and was now tearing apart her soul? She tried to control her breathing, hoping that the dam of her eyes would somehow hold, but the sand burned her feet and pushed her to speed up. She felt besieged in body and spirit by demons, thirsty for her tears. Only thirty seconds earlier, she’d been joking carefree with Susan and Roger and now felt as distraught as the night before, on this same beach, while preparing herself to say goodbye to Ni—

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she gasped out to the man she’d carelessly bumped into at the entrance to the cafe.

  “Hi there, beautiful.” He smiled at her, heavyset with some white speckling his hair and beard, wearing overly tight, yellow bermuda shorts that rode low on his hips. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

  “No, thanks,” and she went inside.

  Stepping onto the marble tiles, the refreshing coolness spread from her feet through her whole self.

  There were no customers in line, so she walked over to the brunette girl with glasses who was setting out candy and chewing-gum packages on a small display next to the cash register.

  “Good morning.”

  “Hello,” the cashier greeted her with a smile.

  “Can I have this and … this?” she asked, pointing to the frozen treats the Corwins wanted on the menu board on the wall.

  She paid and headed back towards the door, snacks in hand. What she had hoped to avoid facing by taking refuge in the cafe still waited for her outside. Not the ludicrous Casanova, but the realization that in one, single second—when she’d seen Nico—all of her convictions and reasoning from talking to Keisha had crumbled to dust.

  She crossed the street and returned to the sand. The brief respite of the cafe had dulled the impulse to vent her sorrow through tears, but a sense of loss had spread inside her and contaminated her emotions. She needed silence to ponder.

  “My God, the sand’s hot!” she laughed, jumping with both feet onto the straw mat to appear cheerful. “Here you go, Sue,” she added, handing her the lemon ice pop.

  “Thanks, dear.”

  “Roger, you meant this one, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, Hannah. Thanks.”

  “Nothing for you?” Susan frowned.

  “No. Right now I just want to go for a swim.”

  “We just had one!”

  “I know, Roger. But I was warming up.”

  “Is everything okay, dear?”

  Her reaction time was damn slow compared to Susan’s insight.

  “You look tense.”

  “I’m afraid I am, Sue. You know, Ryan and I made up, but we haven’t seen each other for a whole week …” she improvised, spreading the towel back over the umbrella and thus avoiding eye contact. “Things might be awkward at first. Maybe swimming will help me burn off some tension.”

  “I understand, Hannah. Go ahead. And while we’re waiting for you, I’ll try to convince the wifey to go back to that supermarket.”

  “Never ever! This postman doesn’t ring twice,” replied Susan.

  She stretched her lips into a hopefully credible smile at the quip.

  During that brief conversation, though, she sent furtive looks to the shoreline and the area with the fishing boats. Several umbrellas and groups of people in between blocked her view, luckily, because she intended to avoid Nico.

  She walked along the beach in the opposite direction, slaloming through sun beds and deckchairs, until the sand under her feet changed from scorching to wet. She entered the water without even slowing, oblivious to the cold of the first impact. She dove and started swimming freestyle.

  Now she could meditate.

  27. Duel in the Water

  Hannah swam.

  Everything inspired by the conversation with Keisha had engraved itself in her memory. Even now, as she cut through the blue expanse with regular strokes, the logical path that had taken her out of the fog and into the clarity of the sun still made sense. From the emersion of Anna to the rebirth of Nico’s hope, including their mutual emotional misunderstanding. So why couldn’t that reasoning bring back the great mood she’d sprung out of bed with just a few hours before? Maybe because you can’t fit pants on a mermaid …

  And she swam.

  That reasoning, very solid during a theoretical application, had collapsed at the first breath of reality. And if this was the emotional effect of seeing Nico again, she didn’t want to think what would happen if they spoke. Now she found herself back in the dense fog and, in order to get out of it, needed to place him as the starting point.

  Is it possible that I really am beginning to fall for him?

  This question confused her. It was the first time she’d asked it to herself. Until last night she’d been terrified to think about how she felt towards him. Then, by following different paths of thought, she’d decided it must be gratefulness in her heart and had closed the subject without ever uttering the question. But now, having broken that taboo, and with the idea circulating in her head, she could focus on finding an honest answer.

  And she swam.

  As for a hypothetical relationship with Nico, she recognized the mismatch between the “pros” and “cons”. An easy victory for the “cons,” which didn’t actually help because everyone knows that rationality counts in love as much as a joker does in blackjack … She remembered something that she must have read once in a book. To know if you’re in love, don’t focus on how you feel when you’re both together, but how you feel when you’re alone. The irrefutable mark of love is the transformation of your mind into a compass where the needle, regardless of the upheavals and tempests of life, always and constantly points towards them. That was not the case with Nico.

  And she swam.

  Yet it was the case with Ryan. When she wasn’t with him, she felt permanently disoriented and he became the true north of her mind. Therefore, she didn’t need to imagine a duel between him and Nico in order to figure out which one of the two she wanted to win. However events happen at the speed of light in the brain and now the duel had already been announced, presented, and fought … Her own reaction to it traumatized her. Instead of celebrating Ryan’s triumph, she wondered how she would have felt if he’d lost. An immediate sense of liberation spread through her. She pushed herself faster, stretching her arms and straining her legs as though with enough effort she could leave behind that abominable thought. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just the thought, but the feeling behind it. To get rid of thoughts, you just need to redirect your mind somewhere else; with
feelings, you need a physical shock, which arrived soon after, thanks to her reckless sprint. She found herself out of breath and some water went up her nose. Strength failing and heart pumping like a piston out of control, she had to stop.

  Oh, shit!

  Looking back, the beach seemed as small as a scene in a snow globe. It was at least six hundred yards away. Alone in the middle of the sea, anxiety overwhelmed her. Exhausted and gasping, with her throat burning from the salty water she’d ingested, she saw no people or boats nearby or even at a distance. The only non-liquid element in sight was the cliffs to her right. Instinct evoked Nico’s secret place. Full of fear, she looked for the buoy. Useless. Recalling the bay from the perspective of the boat, she realized she was still too close to the beach and too far from the cliffs with the grotto.

  “He-help,” she managed, drained, feeling her energies leaving.

  At the sound of her own voice, she burst out crying.

  Each second was a struggle to stay afloat. Her teeth chattered, and unable to control this nervous reaction, her sense of powerlessness increased.

  “HEEEELP!”

  Her despair turned the scream into more of a shriek. She listened to it resound in the air, but before she could hope that someone had heard it, a violent cramp in her thigh made it almost impossible to keep treading water. When she’d cried out, she’d stiffened and her hamstring, already stressed from the swim, must have seized up.

  Terror pervaded every cell of her body. She splashed with her arms in case anyone could see. She struggled to keep her nose above water. Her energy continued to fade, as well as her will. She looked again in every direction, yelping like a puppy caught in a net. It seemed preposterous that no one could see her. That her life would end in such a pointless way.

  Ryan, where are you? I need you!

  She was too worn out to even scream. She tried to do some sort of stretching to ease the cramp, while using her other leg to maintain balance and float. Her tears mixed with the sea, disappearing into it as she was about to do.