“I’ll see you soon, Julia. Enjoy the sunrise on your way back.”
“My sunrise is keeping my bed warm for me,” I answered with a smile.
I paused to look around the living room before rushing back to bed. Through the curtains, a burst of sunshine spread itself like tiny floodlights. I stopped to absorb the feeling. The same one I’d had when I walked into Diana’s home. I took a deep breath, filled with a rush of energy, removed my shoes and tiptoed into the bedroom.
There you were, staring at the ceiling, arms across your chest, fingers clasped.
“Hi,” I greeted, undressing and slipping under the covers next to you.
“Hi.”
“Have you been up this whole time?”
“Yes,” you answered.
I scooted until half my shoulder was underneath yours and half your body was on top of mine. We both kept our eyes on the ceiling. And then slowly, you turned to me.
“I know I’m not enough and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“You are,” I answered, skimming my thumb across your jaw, feeling the rough growth of your beard. “You are enough. I just wished I could have both of you.” You didn’t answer, so I went on. “Do you ever think of that, Matias? Do you ever miss your home?”
“Never,” you whispered.
“Not even the life you had before? The parties, the people, the challenges, career?”
You wrapped a leg around mine and pulled me in by the small of my back. “We dance on the water in the moonlight, that’s our party. The people in the village are our friends. I love teaching at the university. We don’t need much money. And I get to do this all with you. What’s there to miss?”
You waited for me to react. When I didn’t, you looked into my eyes. “You could. If that will make you happier, you could.” You paused. “Leave. You can go home.”
I couldn’t imagine my life without my son. But I couldn’t imagine my heart, my soul, my being, without you. “No!” I exclaimed. “No, my love, I won’t leave you. You are my sunrise, my home. You are enough.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Monsoon
Writing that letter helped me survive the next two weeks. Communicating with someone outside of our world assuaged my guilt, gave me comfort to think I had at least appeased those who thought they’d lost us.
The friendship we’ve had, the love we’ve shared as sisters, lean on that for now. You know me, you know my heart. The past six months haven’t been me. He is fixing my heart. He is bringing me back to life. For now, this has to be enough for you. Please Trish, save me in Charlie’s eyes. I know it isn’t fair, but he has you and Jack and Liam and Paul. Give me this time. But know that I love you and that I’ll be back.
Night and day, you worked on projects around our home. You painted our porch in blue and white, repaired the rails surrounding it and installed a hammock which faced the sun and the limitless horizon. I noticed everything about our surroundings, tried to bookmark them into memory.
I settled into domesticity, cooking, cleaning, washing our three sets of clothes. Diana and I found some blue and white jars to scatter by the entrance. Every empty space was filled with plants and flowers. You grew tomatoes and fertilized your eggplants. We found one more chandelier for our bedroom, bought a street painting for twenty dollars and hung it up on the living room wall. Our home possessed a character born out of a combination of stuff that had filled people’s lives and that now filled ours.
The ocean always scared me. I feared it so much that it intrigued me to no end. I studied its creatures, its demographics, its science. I read extensively about whales and sharks, how they behaved and how they lived.
You, on the other hand, were like a dolphin, swimming long distances, surfing the waves and battling against the tide.
On some nights, I would sit a few feet from the shore, deep enough so that the water reached my knees, and watch you frolic in the water under the bright light of the moon. I would close my eyes and mark that vision indelibly in my mind. They were happy times, peaceful times I never wanted to forget.
“Tonight, you come in with me,” you said, taking both my hands and pulling me upward, making my green notebook fall onto the sand. “What are you writing, anyway?”
“Just stuff,” I answered. “Stuff I want to remember.”
A cold, hard object touched my toes under the sand. “Wait a minute,” I said as I pulled it out of the water. It was a blue bottle, shorter and stubbier than a wine bottle. Its translucence reflected the moonlight so perfectly I could see the tiny gas bubbles that formed within the glass. There was a cork attached to its mouth, keeping the sand inside it intact.
I let go of your hands and laid the bottle next to my notebook.
‘We should slip a message in it and send it out to sea,” you teased. “Save me from this man who’s about to ravage me!”
I took my place back with you, missing my hands in yours even for those few seconds. “I think I’d say—Help! I am hopelessly in love with this man.”
Your face lit up, and you squeezed my hands tight. “Come,” you said, walking backward, leading me deeper in the water.
“No, thanks!” I screeched. “I’ll stay here and watch you like always.”
“Why are you so afraid of the sea?”
“Because you never know what’s in it. I’m not good with unknowns.”
You continued to pull me in.
“No, Matias!”
“I got you, baby.” We were chest-deep. Well, I was. You were more torso-deep. Tiny waves rippled the water, causing it to swish.
“What if,” you whispered, “I fucked you right here and now. Would you get over your fear of the ocean?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
You lifted me up, held my legs with each hand and wrapped them around your waist. “No, actually, I’m not.”
“I’ve never done it in the water. Let alone in an open space where people could see.” I giggled, not doing a single thing to stop you.
“It’s the best.”
I scrunched my nose.
“I mean, I’ve heard it’s the best. Never done it before either.”
“Liar.”
I felt you grow against me. You tilted your head down and licked my ear before moving on to my lips, engaging me in the deepest, most surrendering kiss I had ever experienced. I moaned when your fingers found me. There was no fear there. Just love. And ambivalence about anything that had existed before you held me that night. I was ready.
“Always ready,” you echoed, pulling on my top until it flopped and floated in the water.
“Matias.”
“Carin, you don’t have to fear anything when I’m with you.”
“I will always remember this,” I hushed in your ear, tightening my legs around you at the same time. When you thrust yourself inside me and when I screamed your name, I knew heaven was listening. I deserved that night, earned the right to this happiness. Now if only the moon and the stars could share their peace with me.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Art
I kept on, wrote about our days and our times together. In my mind, Charlie was away at summer camp, and I wrote to let him know how things were going at home. I used to send him pictures of Brutus, of his fish, and of Paul and his antics. I did that too, painted pictures of the images that were part of my day-to-day life.
Do you remember how easy it was to communicate via text and phone just months ago?
What existed now was a new normal. We had no way of communicating while you were across the water, on another island. And because of that, waiting until the end of the day to see you filled me with unabashed anticipation every single day.
Those days went by so quickly. I guess it was because when you live in love, it consumes your entire being. There was no sense of time or space. We lived in the tiniest of homes, but our living room was a porch on the beach, facing the endless horizon.
For two weeks I had been
working on a project for you. It was going to be a gift. A self portrait—something I’d never painted before, and a part of my quest to make sure you remembered. I took the image from the corkboard in the kitchen, filled with Polaroids of us. You had found the camera at one of the roadside tents, and Ariel brought us boxes of film whenever he went to the mainland. I’d chosen an image of me that you had taken in the bedroom, when I was pensive, unguarded, and in deep thought. Sometimes, I would get confused when I looked at the woman in the pictures. She looked so different, so at peace. There was nothing to clamor for, nothing to fight for anymore. She had earned her right to happiness.
One sunny day at the end of May, I looked up from my canvas to see a beautiful furry creature running toward the house, kicking sand everywhere and being chased by a woman in a navy blue dress. It took a while for me to recognize Diana.
“Julia! I’m so sorry!” she yelled.
Before I could wave back, I realized what she was apologizing for. The puppy came charging toward me, running directly into the easel, which toppled onto the floor, paints, canvas, and all. It was a tiny, furry little thing, wrinkly like a Bulldog but with a smaller head and a skinnier body. It sat on its hind legs and looked at me while I gathered the mess it had just made. The canvas on the easel fell on top of all the others, leaving the pile of artwork like a shuffled deck of cards.
“Julia!” Diana gasped, out of breath. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m not sure why she ran like that. The kids had put a little leash on her but it broke in two when we were walking here.”
“It’s okay,” I said, gathering up the paints and tearing off a piece of the buffing cloth to wipe up the drops. The puppy sat still even as I approached it. “Who’s this?” I held its tiny face in my hands and stroked its ear.
“No name. We’ve had her for three months, and I thought it was a good time to take her over. Give you some company.”
“I didn’t know about this,” I said. “You’re giving him to us?”
“Her.”
“Her.”
I stood to straighten the paintings strewn across the deck. One by one, I leaned them against the far end of the railing.
“What is she, exactly?” I asked, turning around to take another look at her. “She’s adorable!”
That was the puppy’s cue to walk toward me. She took a few steps and sat right by my feet. My heart sank for a second as I remembered Brutus. And Charlie.
“Boston Terrier and Bulldog mix.”
The puppy had the right combination of golden brown and white. A green patch of skin encircled her right eye.
“What is this?” I asked, bending to trace my finger around it, surprised that she allowed me to touch her face. “A birthmark?”
“We think it is. But it could also be a mole or something. The vet said it was just a skin discoloration. Nothing wrong internally.”
I sat on the ground and took the puppy in my arms. Diana walked around, hands clasped behind her back, studying the pictures against the wall.
“Julia, these are beautiful. I never knew you were a painter.”
“I’m not,” I said shyly. “I just recently picked it up again. Need more practice.”
“Oh, come on!” Diana replied. “These are painted by an experienced artist. They are simply exquisite! Are you sure you didn’t have any formal education in art?”
“When I was young, I wanted to be a painter. ‘Artists don’t make money,’ my dad used to say. Hence the business school.”
“Sounds like my parents.” She pointed to my work in progress. “This one ... This is you, isn’t it? Look at the expression on your face. So real.”
“Thank you.” I lifted the painting, blew on the leaves that stuck to it, and settled it gently on the bamboo stand. “I’m only halfway done. It’s my surprise for Roman.”
She smiled at me, her eyes crinkling. I could tell that she was bursting with questions, the way she blinked rapidly, her thoughts moving faster than she could filter her words.
“The church is looking for an art teacher for grades one to five. Is it okay if I recommend you? You know—the one right at the plaza. They don’t pay much, but you get a stipend for supplies.”
I clapped my hands in glee. “Oh my god. I would be so honored!”
“How about we go now?” She glanced at her watch. “It’s only three o’clock. Roman can cook his own dinner.”
“He doesn’t get home until six,” I said, walking toward the front door. “Let me put out what I need to cook so it will be ready when I get back.”
We stepped out of the heat into the air-conditioned room. “What about her?” Diana asked.
I tilted my head at the puppy. “I have to check with Roman—he’s been working so much, I’m not sure he’ll want to take care of a puppy at this point. But she is so precious!” I bent down and snapped my fingers. The puppy came running to me. “Can you leave her with me so I can get to know her? I want him to meet her tonight.”
“Yes, let’s take her with us now so we can get some supplies. She is yours if you want her,” Diana said. “Any names for her, Julia?”
“I have some in mind but I’m excited to see what Roman will come up with.”
She told me of a short-cut into town, through a thick grove of coconut trees, across a manmade bridge and along a winding path in the middle of a pasture. It was private land, Diana told me, but everyone who lived on the water was allowed to go through. Oddly enough, we didn’t take that route.
“Let’s walk along the water today,” she said. “It’s so calm and beautiful.”
I nodded and allowed her to hook her arm in mine. The puppy followed happily. Once in a while, Diana would pause to make sure she was right behind.
“You are in love,” she said, looking at me. I kept my eyes ahead of us, fixed them on the blue sky and a lush green hill that sprung out of the sand.
“Yes.”
“He is your world.” She was here for the count, ready to dig her heels in.
I blushed, feeling the warmth rush through my body. “Yes, you can say that.”
“I would say it is quite literal.”
A giant wave barreled toward us, knocking me down on the sand as we squealed. She held out her hand to me, and I pulled on it. I was drenched from the waist down, her dress dripped heavily.
“Let’s walk further up,” she instructed. “Anyway, as I was saying—was your life very busy before that you just had to get away?”
“Something like that,” I answered. The air was so hot my clothes were dry almost immediately. It reminded me of the times I’d used a blow-dryer to get out wrinkles.
“I’m intrigued by you,” Diana announced. Still, I felt no uneasiness. When she held my hand or hooked her arm in mine, I delighted in it, welcomed the friendship we were building.
“Why? We’re just normal people, trying to start a life together.”
“Hmm,” she said with upturned lips. “It doesn’t seem as normal as you think. A couple like you, modern, smart, sophisticated—wanting to hole up in a nowhere place such as this.”
“How do you know I’m sophisticated when this is all I wear?” I said, gesturing to my shirt and shorts.
“Elegance comes from within,” she said. “It can’t be bought, it can’t be copied, and it can’t be imitated.”
“Thank you. That’s very nice of you to think. But believe me”—I laughed—“there is nothing special about us! And this place is paradise! What are you talking about?”
The puppy yelped loudly at a nearby group of ducklings that gathered around a puddle. I scooped it up as we crossed the street into town.
Our conversation was halted for now. But I always knew I’d have to find the answers one way or another. Everything was just a matter of time.
I chose not to respond. We both kept our eyes on the puppy as she trotted along, paw-prints hardly making a mark on the sand. Diana tugged on my arm as she steered me toward town, chatting aimlessly and pointing at diffe
rent landmarks along the way.
There was the meat packer, the town doctor, the woman with three husbands. Did I know that Mang Inog, the guy at the post office, had just lost his wife? We took a turn, left this time, and found the battered, gray school building.
“We’re here,” Diana said. “I’m excited for you to meet Sister Pilar.”
“Me too,” I answered, taking the puppy in my arms before stepping under the tall archway that led to the courtyard.
“Julia?” Diana stopped to address me before leading me down the open corridor. “One day soon, we’re going to have to tell each other’s stories.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
What You See
Fifteen feet from the last step of our porch sat two giant tree trunks, buried in the sand and cut down to perfectly flat stumps. You and I would sit outside on balmy nights, waiting for the tide to come in. That night, I laid some wine and a tray of cheese on one of them and sat on the sand, anxious for you to come home.
You hopped out of the bangka and waded in the water. I jumped up and waved with the biggest smile on my face. I rushed toward the shore, impatient for those arms of yours to encircle me. You looked worried, tilted your head and searched my eyes for answers.
“Hi!” I gasped, wrapping my arms around your neck.
“What happened?” you asked. “Is everything all right?”
I pulled you toward our house, toward the wine and the cheese and the re-purposed tree stumps. You saw them and smiled, relaxed.
“I got a job!” I giggled.
“That’s great! Where?”
“At the grade school in town. Teaching art to first and second graders! Diana saw my work and took me in to meet the principal.”
You gently held my face and kissed me. “You are awesome. Simply awesome. Congratulations, baby.”
“Mmm,” I answered, pulling you down toward the ground. My lips had missed yours; they didn’t want to separate from you just yet. When we pulled apart, we sat side by side on the sand, knees up, yours between mine and mine between yours.
The Year I Left Page 16