“So, tell me all about it,” you said. “I want details.”
“Wait. I want to show you something first.”
I didn’t have to. You stiffened when you felt something nudging you from behind. The puppy was sniffing your shirt, breathing in your scent.
“Who’s this?” you asked, turning to take it in your arms. It sat very still, stared at your face. I could tell that it was love at first sight for both of you.
“It’s a her. No name. I’ve been calling her Puppy all day. Diana brought her this morning. Did you know about this?”
“I may have mentioned to Ariel that you might enjoy some company.” You laughed. “That guy seems to be into everything.”
“He’s great,” I refuted.
“He is,” you agreed, still holding her but diverting your attention to nuzzling my neck. The puppy followed you and began to lick my face. We both hooted loudly.
“What happened to his eye?” you asked, doing what I had done—tracing a finger around the green spot surrounding the left side of her head.
“Something about how she was born, bruising,” I said. “That’s why the buyer rejected her. She’s a mutt with a facial flaw.”
“I have the perfect name for her.”
I looked at you. Spill it.
“Olive.”
I wanted to cry right then. I wanted to thank you, tell you it was one of the countless moments I memorized about you, one of the times I knew I loved you—because you remembered. You wanted to make sure Brutus was never forgotten.
“Olive,” I choked, “it’s perfect. She looks just like—”
You turned to me. “Go on.”
“She looks just like Brutus when he was a puppy. Do you know who he loved the most?”
You shook your head.
“My mom. She spent the most time with him while I was at work and Charlie was at school.”
You didn’t say anything. For a minute, you allowed me to get lost in my thoughts. I stared out into the ocean. How much had changed since I met you. I wanted to talk about them without the overwhelming tightness in my chest. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?”
“For allowing me to hold him close by keeping him in our conversations.”
“You can always tell me anything.” You released Olive and turned your attention to me. I leaned on your shoulder, encouraged your embrace. “Now, tell me how you got this job, you wonderful artist, you.”
The stars emerged from the darkness. They lit up the sky and created colorful rainbows all over the water. I reached for the wine and poured our glasses.
“Cheers,” I said.
“Cheers.” You clinked your glass on mine. “Now tell me!”
“Well,” I started. “Diana showed up this morning while I was working on the porch. She saw my paintings and raved about them. She offered to have me meet the principal to see if I could fill the open position for an art teacher. I met with her for an hour. She had many questions, some I couldn’t answer, some I made up on the fly. I was so sure I wouldn’t get the job but when it was over, she shook my hand and asked me to start next Monday!”
“What kind of questions did she ask?”
“The one everyone wants to ask. Diana had the same questions today while walking into town.”
“I’m sorry,” you said.
“Why are you sorry?” I linked my arm around your legs and leaned my head on your knee. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. We just need to figure out what our story is.”
“It’s not a story.” You enunciated carefully. If I didn’t know you, I would have thought you were upset. But that was just you. Always trying to be one step ahead, always making sure I understood. “It’s true. We met, fell in love, moved to get away from our very hectic lives. In more ways than one, those are the facts.”
“Word,” I teased, wanting to lighten your mood.
In a way, I didn’t have to because Olive reappeared with a bamboo stick in her mouth. You pulled on it gently until she gave it up to you. “Do we have food and toys for her? I can get some in the market during my lunch break tomorrow.”
“I have a month’s supply in the house. Went with Diana today after we visited the school.”
You nodded and gently pulled on the stick until Olive gave it up and traded it for a piece of bread. “Carin, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.” You turned to face me, taking both my hands in yours.
There had not been one single time when your eyes failed to hypnotize me. They were cold as ice, hot as coals, burning like fire, lit up with wonder. That night, they looked parched, thirsty, hungry, searching.
“What is it? You’re scaring me.”
“Marry me. Let’s get married. Everyone knows you as my wife. Let’s make it official.”
I didn’t mean to mock you. But I did turn my eyes sideways as if rebuking your joke with another joke. “Time out. I was already married.” I paused before reminding you. “I’m still married.”
“Not here. This is our fresh start, remember?”
“You can’t be serious,” I reasoned. “I failed miserably at that marriage. Why would I want to do that to you?”
“Because I’m not Jack.”
“But you’re still another human being. And besides, divorce is illegal here. Once we’re married, that’s it. There’ll be a lot of unwinding to do, and it’s not worth it,” I stammered.
“Olive!” you called out before standing and brushing the sand off your legs. “I’m going to take her for a walk.”
“Matias.”
Olive ran toward you. This time, she had a flip-flop in her mouth. It dragged itself on the sand, too big to fit between her tiny jaws.
“Thanks for the wine. I’m so proud of you, babe. Don’t wait here for me. I’ll see you in the house.”
“Matias, no! Wait, please. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” I chased after you.
You stopped and turned around. I wrapped my arms around you, held you tightly. Olive stood on her hind legs, pulling on your shorts. My cheek was on your chest. I didn’t want to let you go.
“Why does it always seem like you’re going to leave?” you whispered, your tone sad, dejected. You were a myriad of contradictions—strong, heavy arms, soft, timid voice. Every woman should build their man up, give him the conviction to accomplish his dreams. I wanted to be that woman for you and at times I felt I was tearing you down.
“I don’t know.”
“Are you going to leave me, Carin?”
“No,” I mumbled.
“Then why do you always say silly things like that?”
“Because everyone leaves,” I answered. “Eventually, everyone leaves.”
“Not me,” you said, caressing my back. “I will never leave.”
“We can’t stay here forever. Soon, you will want your success back. Soon, you will want to feel fulfilled, productive. This is a temporary place of solitude. The problem with peace is that it can stagnate people. Human beings exist to rile up the world over and over again because peace gets stale and mundane.”
“Carin,” you said, pulling me tightly against your chest. “Your love is my success. Your laughter is my peace. I see new things with you every single day. We have everything we need here. Why would we want anything more?”
“What do you see? You go back and forth on the boat each day. You see the same things on your way and back,” I argued.
You stroked the top of my head while drawing a breath. “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. Every day, the sea is a different color. The clouds show me different shapes. And then when I come home to you, you show me your love in so many different ways. Your face has expressions I haven’t yet mastered, our home has so much character—every chip, every crack, I discover those each day. And when you laugh ... God when you laugh, I forget where we’ve come from and all I know is that we are here.”
“Show me,” I whispered. “Show me more of the things I can’t see.”
>
“I will, Carina. I will.”
I looked up at you and pulled your head down toward my face. I kissed you that night—with the moon and the stars as my witness.
“Take away my fears,” I asked of you. “Because I want to marry you.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Secrets
With June came the monsoon clouds and torrential rains. Everything around us was lush and thick and thriving. I worried about your boat rides when the winds caused the waves to thrash, prayed for your safety when the thunderous clouds brought gashing flashes of deadly light. On weekends, we would cuddle up inside, rested and pacified by the steady drops of rain and the droning roar of the tide. It was our sanctuary, our home, our respite from the world.
June also brought the start of the new school year. Instead of teaching two grade levels, I was teaching four. It was perfect—working in the morning hours and getting home by the early afternoon. I didn’t make much—got paid at the end of each week. My monthly salary would add up to seventy-five dollars, nothing compared to yours. I showered the children with new supplies every week. In reality, I spent more than I was paid, but I was happy.
The doorbell dinged as I stepped into Diana’s salon one Thursday after school. We’d fallen into this weekly routine—grabbing a quick bite after school and spending some time running errands. I walked in on something—a man with his back to the door was speaking to Diana in a reprimanding tone, as she continually wiped the tears from her face. She jerked her head back when she saw me and forced a smile.
“I’m sorry, I should—” I faltered, slowly backing up toward the door.
“Hi, Julia,” Diana greeted. The man turned around to face me. It was my turn to lean back in surprise, my legs desperate to give way. I recognized him immediately. It was Vincent Fernandez, the doctor’s son.
I stood frozen in place, afraid to make a move. When his face showed no acknowledgment, I was relieved to realize he didn’t know who I was. I smiled to myself. Of course, I’ve got short, brown hair now. I was also wearing a native sarong.
“Julia,” Diana repeated. “It’s okay. This is my brother, Vincent.”
Her brother? What was she doing in this sad, impoverished place when her brother owned the island?
I rushed toward him with an outstretched hand. “Julia O’Neill, nice to meet you.”
Vincent nodded and turned back to his sister. He spoke quietly, leaned closer to Diana, concerned about my ability to hear what he was going to say. “Diana, I’m going to head home. Please consider coming over next weekend. Papa wants to see you and the children.”
“I’ll let you know,” Diana answered, a tinge of defiance in her voice. “I’ll discuss it with Ariel.”
When he walked out the door, Diana exhaled loudly. “Whew. That was close.”
I sat on the pedicure chair while she went to the refrigerator and pulled out two Styrofoam boxes and two bottles of water. “I thought we’d have lunch here today. I got you your favorite sweet bananas and cooked some tocino and fried rice.” She handed me the box and the water. I settled into the seat and pulled the retractable table out in front of me.
“Thank you. This is perfect,” I said.
She smiled and sat on the barber’s chair, twisting it so we faced each other.
“So, can you tell me what that was?” I asked.
“That was the long story I told you about. My brother and my father own the island. Recently, they sold half of it to a development company that is going to make it into a resort.”
I was shaken by that statement. I tried to mask a reaction by looking at my food, taking a banana and putting it into my mouth. “Why did he seem upset?” I asked.
“Ariel is the love of my life. As you can see, he is much older than me. We met while I was still in high school. He was a friend of my father’s. As soon as I turned eighteen, I ran away to marry him. My father and mother disowned me. Ariel and I moved from job to job, home to home, trying to establish our life together. People knew who my father was and refused to get involved in the middle of our family drama. We finally settled on this island, far away from them. That only lasted a year. Vincent is back, begging me to make peace with my father.”
“Do you miss your family? I know I would miss mine,” I said, careful not to call out any similarities between our situations. There were many.
“I do, of course, I do. But Ariel is enough for me. I didn’t want to choose, but they made me. And I am happy with my choice.”
“What does Ariel think of all of this? The estrangement?”
“He tells me all the time that he would give me up if I wanted to go back. That he just wants me and the children to be happy.”
“Roman says that too,” I answered, revealing something I shouldn’t have.
“What did you say?” she asked, blinking, leaning forward in earnest.
“Oh!” I giggled. “Roman always says he wants my happiness first and foremost—that’s what I meant.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Well, are you going to see your family?” I asked, making sure we moved right along.
“I don’t think so. My father is a proud man, but so is Ariel. I don’t ever want to pit them against each other. Maybe if Vincent wants to take the children to see their grandparents, he can send for them here.”
“Makes sense,” I agreed. “But eventually, you will have to come to terms with whether you want your children to know your heritage.”
“And you, yours,” she said to me. “When you have them, of course. I’ve learned that we can’t have everything we want, Julia. Life is so full of choices. Oftentimes, the choices you make for yourself will hurt someone else.”
Lunch was delicious. The fried rice mixed with egg and soy sauce was the perfect complement to the sweet cured meat that Diana had made for us. We spent one hour at her salon, talking about her childhood and the family life she used to live. She’d grown up in a life of privilege and yet, never craved nor missed anything she’d had before Ariel.
I wanted to open up to her about everything. I wanted to tell her proudly that I too had given up my old heart to get a new one.
Except there was no turning back for me. I had killed myself, killed those I loved to have this new life. Would I ever get over this guilt? Would I ever be able to truly love Matias, knowing that I’d ruined lives in the process?
We ran around town, our regular routine, picking up fresh meats and vegetables and one hotdog-looking little dog toy for Olive. During our last stop for the day, Diana and I were in a jovial mood, bursting into fits of giggles about everything we saw and heard. The odd man, the odd smell, the chicken chasing the duck in circles. We walked out of there, giddy, happy, high on our day.
“Car?” I smacked right into you as I stepped off the raised stoop at the entrance, on to the muddy ground. You had Olive in your arms, your hair tucked into your favorite Real Madrid cap, your curls peeking out by the ears. You saw Diana and course corrected. “Julia?”
Diana laughed and released my arm, giving no indication that she’d noticed the slip. “Hey, Roman!”
“Hi,” I greeted, standing on my toes and giving you a kiss on the cheek.
“What were you doing at the post office?”
“Oh,” I paused to collect myself. “It’s errand day. Deliveries.”
“For Diana?” you asked.
I nodded briskly, leading you away from the doorway. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you at work?”
“They called off school due to the coming typhoon. I went by the house but you weren’t there.”
“Errand day,” I said again. “Did you need anything from here? We can walk around a bit.” I waved at Diana as she approached us. “Di, thank you for lunch today. I think we’re going to walk Olive around the plaza since we’re already here.”
“Great idea!” she said, glancing at her phone. “Ariel just texted. He’s home so I gotta go.”
I took Olive from you and set her on
the ground. She wagged her tail happily as we tugged on her leash and walked toward the plaza. The fruit market was bustling with activity. In the middle of the square, children played, grownups sat by the fountain, music blared despite the darkening sky. I saw the young women of the town eyeing your every move, sighing, smiling at each other. It wasn’t their fault. You had such a presence.
I walked away from you and Olive to buy my second sweet banana of the day—plantains rolled in brown sugar and fried in hot oil until a sweet, sugary crust formed around them.
“I could live on these,” I said before offering you a bite, which you obliged.
“Oh my god, that is good,” you admitted. Three little boys played with Olive. Her leash was long enough for her to circle the steps surrounding the fountain. Music blared through crackled, scratchy speakers, muffled at first by a single burst of thunder.
“Hey.” You smiled, pulling me close to you. I molded myself in your arms. “Do you remember this song?”
I paused to listen and then smiled back. “The Godfrey.”
“Dance with me,” you whispered in my ear, swaying side to side. Olive stood still and watched us, along with the rest of the town. There we stood for a few seconds, suspending time and believing that nothing else mattered. Forgetting that all the pain we had caused was for this one dance.
At first, it drizzled. And then it poured. Huge drops of golden rain washing all our cares away.
Slowly, we moved to the words of the song, side-to-side, eyes closed. I pressed my head to your shoulder at first, then lifted it when you leaned down so that our lips touched. We kissed, we swayed, we relived that night. The night I’d lost my heart and soul to you.
And when the song ended, we opened our eyes to find that we were all alone in the middle of the square. You, me, and Olive.
“I love you, Carin,” you whispered.
“I love you, Matias.” I caressed your face with my hand. “Dancing with you always gets us in trouble.”
The Year I Left Page 17