The Beach House

by Alec Silva

  “There you are”, said my friend, taking me out of the trance.

  Before I opened my eyes, she grabbed my free hand and squeezed it. I was startled.

  “I made breakfast, but I think that's more important”, she said, pulling me. “Leave the knapsack there! Nobody is going to steal!”

  And she pulled me harder, indicating a path that led to the beach.

  “Come!”

  I followed her.

  She was excited, and that was good.

  It was a path of pebbles and white sand, which must be used frequently, as it had no grass or seemed obstructed by large stones.

  “Don’t you think we had better eat something before?”, I asked.

  “We won’t delay, lad”, she answered, cheerful. “Don’t you want to know and feel the sea?”

  “I do...”

  “So...”

  We were both in sandals, and the cold sand invaded our feet as we walked along the beach. She was the first to take off her shoes; I imitated her automatically, still guided by her rhythm and enthusiasm. It was a delicious sensation immediately, the slightly humid sand, the more intense saline aroma.

  “We're not going to get completely wet, but I think we can get our feet wet for now, okay?”, my guide asked.

  I just nodded.

  I didn’t know how to swim and I had never set foot on a beach in my entire life. Everything there was new to me.

  We didn’t let go of each other at any time. Holding hands, she smiled with satisfaction and I, like a child amazed with a new toy. Then we were barefoot, touching the wet sand and sinking a little. The water wet our feet with small waves.

  Only she and I in that part of the beach, two friends wrapped in a special moment.

  I close my eyes, absorbing better the pleasant sensation that came from the sea. The sea, the salty breeze, the characteristic aroma of the beach, the firm hand of my companion of small adventure, the perfume that she used and that fragrance I would never forget, even if I didn’t know what it was...

  We stayed there. Minutes that have become almost an hour. Long enough for my eyes to get wet and my body to be embrace by my friend, who smiled and kissed me on the lips.

  Friend. At the thought of that word, my gaze quickly turned to the house that would not let me in. I could not see much of it, but there it was, still inaccessible to me, just like the nymph that had conquered me. I would never know its secrets, because we would leave the next day. And even worse, it would be my penultimate day with that intriguing girl.

  When we returned, we ate and talked a lot, laughing at superficial stories. I was more of a listener, because I was lost in the sound of her voice, in her smile, in the passionate way in which she narrated things and gesticulated with enthusiasm.

  All morning long, we walked without a defined direction, in the midst of stories told by my friend and happy laughter. The clouds were still gray, announcing a coming rain, and the sea and the sound of the breeze mixed deliciously. In addition, my hand was with hers and we kept walking like this, close to each other.

  There was still the anguish, the anticipated suffering of the farewell, but something else was also burning in my chest. And when we returned to the house that would not let me in, we both stayed on the terrace, holding each other, while the rain fell, I was sure that, in the future, if I returned to that place, I would be in the living room at least.

  “I wanted this moment to last longer”, she whispered, settling on my chest, while smoothing the covers.

  “So do I”, I confessed, holding the desire to do something nonsense.

  Those were the only words we exchanged.

  Afterwards only silence.

  We covered ourselves so close to each other, and we fell asleep.

  And that fervor in the chest enveloped us. It did not come from me, however, that warmth. Nor of my beloved friend. It was from a third creature, the one that united us and that still separates us.

  The house, after all, was a part of two solitary halves.

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