Dead Awake: The Last Crossing

by Hades

CHAPTER 4

  Noelia

  Morning came too quickly. My head was spinning, and the light from the open shutters was pounding on my eyeballs. It was a hangover. I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep again, now that I was awake. I knew the feeling all too well. Once awake, with a hangover, closing my eyes would only take me on a roller-coaster ride to a place where I didn’t want to go.

  Grudging it, I got up. My hair was a mess, and my mouth was a cotton ball. Looking at my hands, I never noticed that they were so large, clumsy and gawky big hands. They fit on a giant instead of me. Ibrushed my hair back and felt the clammy feel of dead hands on me, as if someone else were brushing back my hair. It made me want to push those hands aside, with my real hands. Instead I had to use those hands and balance my way to the washroom.

  It was too bad that the bathroom had a mirror, because I looked as good as I felt; but even so, for some reason that escapes me, I decided not to take a shower. Even stranger, up to that point, I had not thought of Noelia at all. I went into the kitchen where Blanca was already busy cooking. Did that woman sleep in there? I asked myself. She was always in the kitchen.

  “You luk a mess,” she said, which was the best-pronounced thing I’d ever heard her say. “You go to bar and be depres after Irvin finally tells you like I told you, ah?”

  “Yeah,” I only nodded and grunted the words to her. It felt a little bad to lie, but it was only a half lie, because I had gone to the bar.

  “So now what does naw?” asked Blanca. Her English, at this point, took a dive. It was so badly spoken that I had to have her repeat herself. She looked at me, with the eyes of a disappointed mother, as if the booze had made me deaf, but still repeated herself.

  “So now what does yu naw!” came her louder, but still incomprehensible, bad English. “You will let me help you aut of dis? I have help for yous. You don’t have to be so depres coz I helps yous. But now you see I was raight. And I raight about Gauchito tus. You come here. I happy now you know.”

  I don’t know what was the matter with her that morning, but she was speaking the worst English I had ever heard. At least I understood part of it, but the rest was spoken to the wind, even with my ears straining. She pointed to her cabinet, where there was probably some root or herb that she wanted me to wear again, but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with that now.

  “No, no I just think about it for little while. Think to myself. You know.” was my defense. (It’s funny how I started to imitate Blanca’s strong accent. I find it’s a phenomenon that always occurs when one talks to people from other countries. It is also interesting how one usually increases volume and decreases speed as well, even though the person being talked to is neither deaf nor slow). I got up and left, without even taking a bite. How could I anyway with my stomach the way it was?

  By then the thought of Noelia crossed me, along with the resolution to look my best. After debating it a while, I decided to shower, even though I’d already gotten dressed and really didn’t feel like doing it. What I needed was something to help pass the revolution in my head, although I never like to drink when hung over. It’s a rule I try to enforce on myself because drinking in the morning makes me feel paranoid of becoming an alcoholic as my dead uncle had become. Maybe some Alka-Seltzer would do fine, but chances of finding some on the island were close to nil.

  My shower was long, and fitting into my clothes was a hassle. I made myself presentable: combed my long bangs back, shaved, took off the bits of toilet paper from my post-shaved face, and put on my Gilligan hat. The shoes were uncomfortable, it seemed as though my feet were swollen, so I changed into sandals and left the room.

  Blanca came in, just at that moment, with a little cup of fizzing water for me. “Drink dis, it make yous better,” she said. Funny how she didn’t even knock, as if I were just her boy.

  “No, no Blanca, not now.” I pushed the cup away, supposing it to be some witches brew for warding off the evil spirits, but she held it to my face, and there was no strength of will left to deny it.

  The fluid went down in a distasteful heat of gurgling. It made me want to puke. A taste so vile that it seemed as though there was no chance in holding back my heaving stomach, especially with those nasty witch’s bubbles that fizzed into my nose... But wait! What a surprise, it was Alka-Seltzer! This Blanca was a sweet one after all, a real gem, and all through her strangeness she at least knew what I was going through.

  “Gracias,” I said, with a smile. I felt much better and headed out to find my gal. Walking along the beach on the way to Noelia’s, I took off my shoes. I had taken the long way instead, to let my head clear. It was midday now, and the sun and heat were at their best. If I hadn’t been going somewhere, I would have taken off my clothes and plunged in; but my mind was set in its route. That’s why it was such a surprise when I found myself already swimming in the cool ocean, having not thought first but reacted on impulse. That automatic reaction of mine was a bit of an enigma.

  The water was so clear and relaxing that I didn’t canker my indulgence, but just swam in the medicinal waves. They swept upon me, as a spoonful of warm tonic. Wave after wave, a renewal came to me, like a soothing form of music, that the tide brought, cradling me out of my despair. The whole thing made me feel a lot better. Even this “Malagra” thing didn’t bother me that much any more. It was a shame to admit it, but the whole thing got to me a little – all the speaking of curses and evil things. Even still, the anguish had been worth it, for the poems. Otherwise, I never would have gained them. They were a treasure to me, for all I had experienced, just as the knife would have been, had I been able to buy it.

  The poems were now a symbol of my experiences here on the island. They were just as good as if I had been able to buy the entire shrine, from that first priest, whom I offended so. Was not the experience and memory the real trophy? Wasn’t that why I had collected items in the first place? Each, in its own way, reminded me of a special event, place, or person that had been special in my life. In the end, it was the adventure that was the pliable part of my memory, put in focus by a solid object that I kept throughout the years. And the bond I was now forming with the people of this island, was what the poems would represent each time I read them.

  A short time in the ocean awakened my hunger. Finally the spinning was gone, replaced instead by the soft back and forth motion my body felt from the tide. It was a welcomed feeling, much more preferable than the nagging aches that come from the bottom of a bottle.

  For food I found myself a little inn by the beach, where they served seafood. I asked for some pescado (fish), and it was very agreeable. A lot like home cooking. Not exactly like Blanca’s dishes (those were usually quite exotic to my experience); instead they were of a softer, milder, nature, with lots of vegetables and a nice soft European taste.

  My stomach was famished. It lied to me and said it had not had food in it for days. I had to order a second dish to fill up, but after doing so, felt whole again. I was now in tip-top shape for a meeting with Noelia and her family. It didn’t matter to me one way or another if her parents or brothers were there. If she was alone, it would be a nice time to spend with just her, and on the other hand Higinia and Jose Luis were so nice that it would be equally gratifying to see them as well.

  I saw all of them, from a distance, sitting on their porch. Noelia was just coming out, holding a teacup they called “cuia”, used for serving the tea they called maté.

  I would not go into detail here, but I find it irresistible to describe this maté drink that was so great a part of their culture. Often I would tease them because of their seemingly great obsession over the herb. It was not an addictive substance (as is the case with coca leaves commonly used by the Colombian Indians and other near-central American tribes). Maté is not physically addictive, but everyone everywhere was in a way mentally addicted to this herbal tea. Not to drink maté was socially unacceptable behavior. It is the common pastime, used at any reunion, and is almost a requirement
in every occasion. Oftentimes the people would just sit around for hours and talk while drinking this strange tea. I found it to be no extraordinary experience, but, as all others, I was required by custom to participate in the maté.

  When a group is drinking maté they sit around in a circle and pass around the cuia while drinking from the same “bombilla” (a metal straw with a filter on the bottom, used to siphon the maté).

  I would have preferred not to use the same bombilla as everyone else, but such sanitary practices are not permitted and are looked on as an insult. One would rather mingle in the “germ party” than offend such hospitality.

  The Gonzales’ saw me, and Noelia waved. I could tell she was happy to see me, and that delighted me. The kids came out and hugged my legs, but after seeing I had brought nothing for them, took off somewhere. Higinia smiled at them and asked me, with her hand, to sit a little. I sat and Noelia sat right next to me with a big smile on her face. She was shy, but held my arm for a moment. It was too magnificent. I was in the company of angels.

  I sat a while, with the same results as the day before, feeling the comfort of being loved and respected by a great set of human beings. I admired them for their capacity to embrace so easily, and could feel the love in their household, unlike any I had ever felt, not that my house had lacked the warmth or joy I needed while growing up; but this was different, a much more heavenly-perfected kind of love. One doesn’t have to complain about one’s own family to know that there are other families more united than one’s own. Noelia’s family was that to me. It was so good being with them that I almost found myself desiring to be adopted and had to pull back a little.

  To my unawares, they had a foreknowledge that I didn’t have. Noelia was going to take me on a walk again, perhaps for the entire day. I was ignorant to their culture, and the way one could court a pretty girl like her, but at least I had met with her parent’s approval; or so it was suggested.

  We walked so long that my feet began to hurt. It could have been two hours from the time we started. My watch said three o’clock, but I hadn’t seen the time at her house, so I couldn’t be sure of an accurate count. We stopped a little while and she went to a plant to gather some berries. It was so very nice to be fed by this breathtaking girl of porcelain. It was a wonderful act, and I became a god. Not as a king being fed by maiden-servants, but as a creature being taken from the pit, drawn by caring arms that love it when they ought not.

  I was the fortunate one, but Noelia was acting as if it were she. That’s the part that was surprising, but even, as I might dare say, comforting; for it made me feel secure again. The fruit from her feeding hand revived us, as we rested, so that we could continue on our walk. I don’t think she really needed the rest as much as I did, but stopped mainly because she was concerned about my comfort; and that was as sweet a gesture as all the others had been.

  After that it was easy to hold her hand. We walked a ways, until there was no more road, and then we came to the edge of the forest, where there were no houses to accompany us. She looked at me and was so coquette, extending her other arm to me. It wasn’t to bring me into her arms, but to bring me into the forest. Then we ran because she wanted to show me something further on.

  It was bizarre how the forest grew so rapidly. At one moment we were in the outskirts of it, where the light still filtered onto the ground, and the real animal of it still looked pretty far ahead; but the next moment we were actually inside, where the jungle itself had a living language of its own. It roared as a young lion: a living jungle, where the trees above formed the roof of a great mouth, as we walked inside its gaping entity, where only half the light could filter in. We were in a dimmer world, a world where creation had taken us into its own belly and shown us where the living life began. It was a good world, not full of fear or pain, yet full of all mystery and foreboding, ready to open its secrets unto us.

  A kind of reverence was sprung upon me, and I was made to bow with respect for this great elemental mother world. I was in the presence of its countenance. Nature was now staring at me; demanding veneration through my silence. I found only whispering to be appropriate, from that moment on, as a result of its impact on me.

  Onward and higher, into the increasing slope, we climbed. More and more I found my eyes finding their focus on this girl, as even the giant of nature fell away from her radiance. It was as if she were the queen of this splendor, set to rule over it; and I was a foreigner here, but she was in her own house, a place where she was the head and matriarch.

  Upward and deeper, onto the top of that forest mountain we climbed. Was it all mountains, or was there just the one? This one stretched higher and higher, but I dropped my attention from our climb again, as it became a background to Noelia.

  Forward and faster we ran. I could barely keep up with Noelia in her own land. It was such an effort that I stubbed my toe on a fallen log. She stopped to help me and rubbed my toe until it felt better. The smile of a Cherub fixed on her face, and then we ran again.

  For a second I thought she had contemplated something... Up and forever, and everything blurred by us, then she stopped and turned to tell me that if I had not come for her, when I did, she would have come for me.

  “And I would have found you!” she said, speaking in some form of Spanish which I could barely understand.

  That was a great thing! She was fond of me, as I was of her. I even dared to fantasize that she had missed me as I had missed her, waiting for the time to pass until we met again. Then we continued, for she was excited to show me the place where we were going. It was very close now, she said.

  Where was she taking me, this thing of beauty? The surroundings were breathtaking, but lacked my attention because of her. The way her dark skin curved and danced was a thing of grace, describing deity to my eyes. As a child I had imagined a friend like her. This friend would come to my window and take me with her to the wild country, and play many games with me.

  Yet Noelia was much more than a childhood dream. She was a thing of adoration that altered reality in a supreme value. She held my hand... A warm current wrapped my arm and I felt secure, as a young child led by his mother to the marketplace. I did not care where we were going, as long as when we reached our destination she did not fly away from me, as I’d imagined she would. I was convinced that she would unfold her wings, as an angel, and fly away to where she had been missed. Then, because of grief, I would become a painter, thereafter sprung upon her inspiration, to spend the rest of my life creating images of her and no one else.

  Noelia looked back at me periodically, smiling and giggling. She ran through the forest with great agility, far greater than mine, even though her feet were naked and I had shoes on. All the while, as we ran, I heard a roaring waterfall foaming over some immense cliff beyond sight. Then we were there... She brought me to a sudden halt and caught me in her arms, right before I tumbled over the edge that would have sent me soaring over a giant cliff. Beneath our feet was a sight so spectacular, that my only description of it was that we had penetrated the borders of heaven. We were in the clouds and my heart didn’t need to break, for she had taken me home with her.

  There, beneath us, was a plunge into infinity. We were on the edge of a cliff adjacent to a waterfall, so vast, that it scarcely fit into my comprehension. The trees and plants, on our side of the canyon, ran all the way up to the peak until the floor dropped, without warning, into a basin of mist. Its disguise and my willful disregard towards the surroundings was what had caught me off guard and would have meant my doom had it not been for Noelia. She was as familiar with this wilderness, as anyone can be of his or her own home.

  This waterfall, before me, was so grand that it made me realize how small a man I was. I was completely powerless under the hand of nature. All the reasons and responsibilities, demanding my return to the states were drowned in the huge sight in front of me. My reality was smaller, infinitely smaller, than I had imagined it to be. Still, she was there and as long a
s she was, it didn’t matter how small a part of reality I was. With her at my side I could become the greatest of all God’s creations. Then again, my importance mattered not and melted. At first, into the roar of the tremendous amounts of falling water, and then into her eyes, as our lips met and we kissed.