Nectar Behind the Clouds

Chapter 12 - The Goodbye For Now

I didn't realize that summer was but a blink in the whole year. I did not realize that the season sped past until Papa and I were staring at the ferry that would take us back to the city.

It's like all the winds of the world spun the world faster on its axis. I wanted to grab one of its tails to slow time down. I want them to take me back to the night I met you. Not yet, I thought. Not yet.

It felt like yesterday when I was shuffling through the cracks of a concrete jungle, lost as I stepped into your shores. And now I am as light as air, as peaceful as stray summer's breath.

One moment, we were under the shade of a golden, generous mango tree, napping on a bamboo hammock hung from its mighty boughs. One moment, we were splashing saltwater as the fading embers of the sun painted the sky pink. You taught me how to swim, to not be afraid of the water.

One moment, there was laughter coating the sadness, and another moment when sadness made way for joy. There was courage in the face of intimidation. I showed teeth to your friends, and I liked how they jumped back, thinking I was docile. There was healing. I found all the words needed to be said wrapped in my grandmother's embrace, in your encouraging eyes, in the paintings of a lost, hungry, wandering soul. They were tucked just out of reach; in the sobs we all hid.

I return to the city nurtured and reformed and reshaped with the love of a grandmother. I return to its many slabs of stones—the dreary buildings where most people have abandoned their childhood—with stories of singing mountains and endless cool waves told by you.

I will return to the city with a summer well spent; a sweet summer in a province where I learned more about myself than all the wasted years in the city.

Papa hopped on board, taking my suitcase. I turned around. You and I stared at each other. You hugged me. They said that boys didn't hug boys. I didn't care. I looked towards my grandmother and father. They were both smiling. They did not care, either.

I hugged my lola next. I will miss her brightness. I will miss her cooking. I will miss the old, wrinkled hands combing my hair one final time. "I won't forget this time," I whispered to her.

She murmured a reply. The she said, "I'll keep an eye out for him, don't you worry."

"I love you," I said.

"Next summer will come soon enough," she said.

I tried not to cry. I failed. The tears flowed as soon as we waved good-bye and your face blended with the beach in the growing distance. I cried, already missing my grandmother's face and her many stories, her many, many flowers. How she can summon the wind by whistling and heal any wound on your skin.

I will draw. I will draw the wrinkles decorating her face. I will show the world how age is a beautiful thing. I will train these clumsy fingers of mine to draw. And then I will draw you. I will draw how you dove into the sea and how the waves parted to receive you. I touched my arms from the scars we got, trophies on my skin now.

I promised myself that I would carry you with me, wherever I go. More than the sands and the cold winds and the bright sun and sudden rains. Your voice, Lola's glossy coconut-oiled hair, the way an afternoon can stretch, and the boy who found another boy in the caves.