by Hades
As the seasons followed, the trees sprung up everywhere. Usually the good trees fought and won the soil from the bad trees, so that only the good fruit came up. But on this island, it was said that, because of the hardened hearts of the people, the good trees were not able to take strength and win over the bad ones. That was why there were mostly sour trees everywhere; except in those places where there were good people to lend strength to the good orange trees.
Remembering the story made me laugh a bit. Why did the islanders believe any lunacy of superstition conjured up by someone’s irrationality? Fables were well and fun, but it was one thing to tell such stories for amusement and another to believe them! It was comical to see how serious their expressions were whenever they recited one of these stories.
I arrived at the front gate of Noelia’s house. She was in the back and the door was open, so I just let myself in and circled around. She saw me step in, with no knock, and it seemed a little strange to her, because I’d never just walked in like that. Not that she didn’t like it, but it was just a little odd and unfamiliar for her.
Our reunion was sweet. She flung her arms around my neck and kissed me as she always did. I had missed that. It was refreshing to see her again. For some moments my heart gave way again and I was happy. It was all so great and she was so wonderful. I embraced and kissed her back; I was so happy. But it wouldn’t last before my nonsensical being took over anew. (Again, how I wish I’d left insanity for some other day and left things in their normal state. Unfortunately, that was not the way I made it).
She took my hand, smiled, and told me how she’d missed me. I answered the same. She wondered if I was any better from before. I told her that things would be getting better, but that they weren’t all that great right then. Then I made attempts at telling her about the bum, but I was impatient and didn’t explain my feelings correctly. I didn’t even tell her that he died. I started to, and she was concerned, but then decided to drop it because I thought she wasn’t listening enough. That began to make her unhappy.
Things between us didn’t get real bad right away. Our reunion lasted in peace some while. It was good to hold her in my arms, although she wasn’t happy. Not mad, not like before, but not happy as we had been. I wasn’t too worried. In reality, I knew we would last forever. There was nothing better or more meaningful than she and I, and somehow everything would work out right in the end. But today was obliged for sadness. My mind was rotting so my company could only bring scorn to what should have been joy.
In that state of karma, I took her and walked down the path, holding her sweet hand in mine. We hardly talked, because of the awkwardness of our condition, but she still cared about my troubles. Her head rested on me as we strolled the sands. I don’t know what time it was. I think I had lost my watch earlier somewhere, while I was on my zombie-walk.
Noelia had a sad look on her face. It was difficult for me because I couldn’t make my head clear enough to resolve her anxieties. Of course, I was the problem, only I didn’t know it. I had done nothing more than place burdens on Noelia’s mind for the past several days. Now all her problems were based on me; but since I didn’t know how to take care of myself, there was no way to solve her unhappiness.
It is awful for me to remember these things. I was an awful burden on her; so much that it almost made her ill. What could I tell her; and yet delirium with faintness was all that was available. Consequently, I continued to walk as a zombie, though still I tried to cradle her some and drowse the hurt away.
“Tell me what it is Noelia,” I said and held her gently.
“Why don’t you do something about your problems?” she begged. “I need you to be well!”
But there was nothing I could do – only put it aside. The request was nagging in my ears, so I let it go and did nothing to help mend her feelings. Thus, the situation only got worse. She became more frustrated, the more she tried, as the hurt began to pour out. Now all there was room for was to blame.
“You are so involved with all your problems that all mine don’t matter! You could fix everything, but instead you choose to ruin it and make both of us miserable. Why can’t you let all the bad things be and not make us have to wait so miserably? You can’t do anything about it anyway, so why can’t we be together? You have to run somewhere and try to solve something that you cannot fix! When are we going to get married?” she shouted.
So the heart of the problem was out. It was marriage; and now I had to try to answer that.
“Noelia. It’s okay. We’ll get married when the time is right.”
“And when is that? Something is always coming up. When? You haven’t even said “soon”. How can I stand that? Whatever it is that comes up, it is always more important to you.”
“Nothing is more important to me than you, Noelita; I want to marry you, it’s just that it isn’t the right time now.”
“It is the right time, if you really cared for me.” She was crying now. “If you really cared that much you would marry me right now! I might even leave my home and come with you! So what is so important that you cannot have me now? I thought you wanted me, and now you won’t have me any more...”
Those last words were the ones that got to me the most, because she was crying. She kept on talking, but the streams were running down her face too fast and made her choke on her own words. All I could do was try to hold and comfort her, but I didn’t do a good job at it. As I cradled her in my arms, through a mixture of rage and sadness, she wept on and spoke, “Why won’t you marry me?” and then she tumbled into a plight of hysterical sobbing.
“Darling, I will marry you. But right now is a bad time. My job is on the blinks, and I don’t even know which way is up. I do want to marry you, but I want it to be nice. You don’t want a bad wedding. What will we have now? Everything will be so confusing. And I won’t be able to give you a nice wedding. I have no job and probably no money.”
“I would marry you without all of that. I just want you! Now!”
“I want you too honey, but now is not a good time. I promise you as soon as things get better we will get married. It’s made me so happy that you want to go back with me to the States. You will see. You’ll love it and you will be so happy there. We will bring all your family with us. But honey, it’s not the best of times now. And I won’t make you wait-as soon as things settle down a little.”
“I hope so.”
“You don’t have to hope so, honey. It will happen, I promise.”
I must have said something right. The tears were dried for the moment, yet her grief remained. It was rooted within her, and it would only be a short time before I would plant it deeper. It was as though I was a mercenary, standing in the night, watching from beyond the horizon and waiting to come all the sooner. All that was needed was a little more madness, but that was irreversible now. It would creep in and soon enough entice me to do all that I could.
We walked back to her house, but she would not go in, so we stood outside for a while. Her brother, Julio, came out with a message for me from the bar and fish grill, (the one with the telephone).
He said that I had a phone message there and that it was urgent. I knew it must be what I was expecting and so did Noelia; her face turned pale. That’s why she had not wanted to be there or to go in. She had a feeling and didn’t want it to come true. Now that it had, she wanted to go with me, to the bar; to protect me from psyching-out if it was what we both thought it was. So we went. I agreed to have her go with me, but I had no other choice. If I had said no, she would have come anyway.
She held my hand tight the whole way there. It was now her turn to comfort me. It was in her nature to lose herself in others, especially in others that she cared about. If her brothers ever fell sick, she was the first to worry and be there at their side.
“You ought to take more care of yourself than of us,” her mother often said. Even while she had fallen to that dreadful illness, there was a time when she tried to leave her bed and g
o in search for Hector, her brother, who was late to come home. But she had been too sick and fortunately her parents would have nothing of it.
When it had to do with me, those feelings of matron hood that she normally had were increased beyond safety. She would risk or lose her life for me, even without the need of it; so now that the hour of my slaughter had come, she quickly set aside her needs.
As we got closer to that place, where my fate was waiting for me through a telephone wire, her hand gave short tight squeezes to my hand, emphasizing her support. She was there for me, smiling but still not happy; forbearing something she knew would delay our happiness.
When we arrived at the fish grill the owner was already out. He came to me with a note. It looked like a telegram, at first, but then I saw that the letters were just small. It was my nerves that had speckled my eyesight, as I saw the reality, and thought it funny that I’d tricked myself so. There were no telegraphs on the island! Such things were for the rich. The man had very carefully written out the instructions on the piece of paper, and there was a number to be dialed collect. Nothing more than that was on the paper. I asked the man if there was anything else. He said that there might have been but that he couldn’t understand the man on the phone because he talked too fast.
“I speak English,” said the owner of the fish-bar, “but the man – he speak so fast.” He wanted to make it clear to me that he spoke English, for he was very proud of the fact, so I was forced to listen as he tried to prove his point with a lot of small phrases like: “how are you” and “What is your name”. After I nodded to each of them in approval, he felt satisfied.
I do not want to take credit from the man. Indeed, he did speak English quite well, for someone of the island. It was because of him that I even got a message (if that can be taken as a plus). Again he wanted to make sure I knew it was not his fault about the message. He pointed at the note in my hand.
“I can even write, you see, but he speak so fast, no one can understand. So I took down his number, and there it is.” Then he spoke out each number in English, again to make sure I knew: “Fife, fife, tree... Seven, sis, ey, nai, nai, ow, fife... Right?” There was a long grin, showing his rotten teeth, with a loud laugh after my nod of approval. He clapped his hands and brought the phone.
I dialed it, and it was a minute and eternity before the voice finally came through. It was my boss – my former boss. His voice was deep and alarming. I was shaking as Noelia placed all her calming efforts at my side. She was trying so hard to be my support. It must have been harder for her than it was for me, but she held on as a warrior princess. And we would have made it, if I had been half a man. But I wasn’t even that... Mr. Freior’s voice rang loud and clear.
“... And I wanted you to know you’re fired, Mr. Finch! You can clear up your stuff, or have it mailed to you, or whichever you’d like to do; if you plan to stay on that unhallowed island the rest of your life. Whatever it is, I don’t mind, just see to it that you have your personal belongings moved, so the matter can be closed. Your final check will be mailed to you; and don’t expect a bonus! Good day, Mr. Finch.”
The receiver went heavy, so I couldn’t hold it any more. Noelia caught it for me, and I dove my head to my arms. “Oh lord, what am I going to do?” The call had been as I expected, but now the weight of it was on me. Noelia tried to calm me, but unsuccessfully.
“Dear, dear. You knew you were fired anyway, why don’t we go back? There’s nothing we can help about it.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve just been fired. Canned! There’s no use. No way to go back! My career is over, all those years of hard work and where am I now? On some forsaken island, and I don’t have any money. They won’t even fix my ticket at the airport. What am I going to do?” Noelia was extra nice and still tried to help me. I don’t know were she got the strength to do it.
“Why don’t you go try to fix your ticket again at the airport,” she said, “I’m sure it will be alright. And you don’t have to go anymore, right away. Who cares if it’s another two months before they can get us off the island. It will be fine. I can come with you.”
“Thank you, Noelia, you’re right. I should go to the airport and get everything straightened out for us. Maybe we can go in a month; and it’s okay, I don’t feel that bad about my job. It was time I find something else anyway. “You know, I didn’t like my job at all. I’ve always wanted to write on my own; to be a free-lance writer, maybe submit some stuff to journals and such, or write a novel. Who knows? The paper was holding me back from all of that. Maybe now I can start to do something about it. Anyway, it’s no bother. I can fix it if I want to.”
“And you will,” she responded enthusiastically, “I know it! We can stay here for the next few weeks, or however long it takes and then go to your place. Maybe we can marry here, if you’d like, and then go to the States?”
It was a tentative question – one that she was nervous to hear the answer for. But unfortunately I paid no attention to the question. I was still involved in my past thoughts of ascendancy.
“He was a stupid man anyway,” I went on, on top of her words. “He didn’t know how to appreciate talent. I will go to the airport, right now, and fix this mess. We’ll be out of here in no time.”
I guess she was glad that my fret was at an end, but it didn’t feel too nice that I had ignored her plug on marriage, so she responded frustrated with a dash of irritation.
“You want to go now?”
“Why not?” I said. “No time like the present! Listen dear, you go home and I’ll come get you just as soon as I clear things up.”
It was grim that my response had not been the appropriate one. A “yes I’ll marry you” would have been the one that would have set things right, but I was still too brain-damaged from all the despondency to have come out of it with the right things to say. It was no wonder she got irritated.
“Aren’t you ever going to marry me?” was what finally came out, with a whirlwind of frustration on her side. It was too late, but of course I had to try.
“Yes of course angel, we have everything resolved now.”
“No we don’t, you didn’t even listen to me just now!” Then the teardrops started.
It was so saddening to see her cry. I would do anything in the world to stop it, as she looked so helpless and alone. Those tears were the very things that sunk deep into my soul and made me come out of myself again. Now they were the “sour rain” that could sink into my soul to cause bitterness to end – or come alive again. So I tried as best I could, to bring back the good into our lives and make it all better.
“Well I was a little caught up. I’m sorry. Maybe we can plan for it later. I do want to plan it with you, but right now it isn’t the right time. We just have to wait a little, but then I’ll be back.”
It was too bad I always went back to that bad phrase of: “It’s not the right time.” Said too many times, it would finally sink in and make her not believe any more; but I didn’t mean what I said, it just came out that way. She wasn’t sure if I had meant it wasn’t the right time just then, or if it still wasn’t the right time period.
She must have decided, or persuaded herself to think the former, for she simmered her heated feelings and became pleasant once more, letting it go as if we would plan it all later. And maybe we would have, if things hadn’t gotten the way they did. Those would have been the best plans I’d made all my life (a wedding with the princess), but we never got around to doing it. That night, with all the events that followed, holding onto our dreams was like holding on to the petals of a flower in a windstorm.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to come with you to the airport?” she asked.
“Yes I’m sure. You go home and rest and I’ll take care of it, then after I’ll come get you.”
The face of a little girl reflected on her as she looked to persuade me with a gentle pout. “But I’d like to come with you.”
“No that’s all right honey.
I’ll fix it and then we celebrate with dinner; just the two of us, or with your family. Yes, that would be nice for me. We can make this work, you’ll see.”
My eyes drifted into the surety of the plan, and again something good must have been said, for her eyes lit up with expectation. It would be a family thing, and that was great! She would tell her mother and they could both cry as they planned for the wedding. That was what it took to make her happy.
She was smiling now, but a disquieting question entered her mind again. “I thought you didn’t have any more money. How are you going to pay for any tickets or anything?”
“Yes, that’s right my dear, but I will get a job soon enough, and in the meantime there’s always credit; so not to worry, dear. I’ll pick you up in a couple of hours and by then I’ll be in tip-top shape, you’ll see. I love you, honey.”
So with that sense of fatalistic optimism I pressed her hand and walked away. She still looked a little worried, but had a smile and a new-life look on her that I had not beheld in a long time. I had finally made her happy again – or at least for an hour.
* * *
Arriving at the airport, I made my way to the ticket-agent with much confidence in my stride. There was a different lady there this time. That was very good. It made my hopes for success much higher, as I fumbled through my tickets to get my case in order. As I thought of something to say, I placed my jumble stack of papers, along with some coins, lint, and small pieces of trash, on the counter-top so I could sort it out in front of her; then I spoke: “I have these things here, and I need a ticket back to the States.”
I didn’t articulate myself in the way I thought I would, nevertheless I thought it a brilliant job. The teller looked very confused and pointed at the pile in front of her.
“I’m not sure what you mean, sir. What is all this?”
I didn’t know what was wrong. I looked down on the heap, the fluff of junk, then realized what it was; of course, the tickets were in the other pocket!