Dead Awake: The Last Crossing (10 page)

I felt as a knight who had
dishonored himself by his own deceit and lack of integrity. I had
left the place of privilege, and was now at the bottom, not sure if
she would believe in me again. I told her that it would be all
right. I thought that now was the time to tell her of my plan to
take her to the States with me, thinking it was sure to make things
better... I would marry her, I said, but she didn’t ease up. My
suggestions were only salt upon her wounds.

“
You told me you loved me!
You made me feel you would never go! I was a fool to love you! Why
have you done this to me? Why?” Her tears, along with the
screaming, made it a desperate situation.

“
But you can go with me.
Why can’t you go?” My rebuttal was of no avail. Yes, I would have
married her in a second, but asking now might have suggested that I
would give up my job and life to live with her. Then there could be
no more going back.

Then came her answer. “I
cannot go!” she said, “I have my family here, and this is my home!
Why won’t you stay with me? Why don’t you love me?” This last
statement burned at the sore more than all the rest, though she had
said it before; but somehow this time it made more impact. I did
love her! More than anything! I was willing to do anything for her.
She had to know that. So I fought back.

“
You can go with me dear...
We can take your family too. I can make a place for all of them
with us, back in the States, or they can even have their own
house.”

“
And what will they do
there? This is my home! This is my life! You cannot take it away
from me, and take me there! My family cannot go there! If you love
me you will stay here!”

“
But why can’t your family
come too? We can all be happy there.” Her crying got louder, when I
thought it could not. The argument was lost, and so was the
conversation, as she ran away from me.

I wished I had gone after
her, but it seemed useless to me, at the time. I thought I’d wait
it out a little, and go back when the fire had gone out. But the
fire didn’t die, and she had been right; I didn’t understand a
thing about it. Why couldn’t she go with me?

When I finally went back to
talk to her, she would only cry. It had only been a few hours, but
things now appeared worse. I thought that the time spent to
ourselves would have helped, but it didn’t. Her mother even asked
me to leave because Noelia was getting so upset. She said that she
would talk to her and see if she could help, but that now I had to
go. It was all right for me, because I knew that Higinia really
would make things better for us.

There was concern and
feeling in her eyes. Higinia really loved me, as a son, and wanted
it to work out for us; but even with all her help and influence, I
wasn’t able to talk to Noelia for the next three days.

That was an awful eternity.
I thought I’d go to the airport, to reschedule my ticket, because
the time of my return was quickly squeezing up on me. I wasn’t
going to leave without resolving my deep dilemma with Noelia, so I
made my plan of action. I decided to trade my ticket in for an
open-return ticket and pay the difference.

I could call in to work, and
tell them that I’d be a few days late, then resolve everything with
Noelia. Surely my boss would understand, once I told him that I was
going to marry this girl. I could probably get an extra two weeks
in it for a honeymoon . . .

With that plan, I walked up
to my airline terminal and made arrangements to reschedule my
departure. Everything went as planned except that they were unable
to give me the open ticket, due to the tourist season that usually
started during that time of year. I decided that I needed to give
the problem a week to be fixed, and made arrangements accordingly.
That would be ample time to get things resolved, I
thought.

Noticing my hesitation, the
ticket agent asked me if it was a sure date; if not, I should make
sure, because it would probably be impossible to reschedule
anything again for quite some time. There was no reason to do so, I
was sure. I felt confident with another week, thinking it would be
plenty of time.

Then, anxiety turned to
aggravation toward the ticket agent. What did she know? Airlines...
always giving the customer a hard time. If they don’t lose your
luggage, they lose your reservations. What’s with all of them? I’m
a paying customer!

In this frame of mind my
thoughts got me very hot under the collar, and I became very
irritated towards the lady. If they have so much of a problem with
their seating space, my mind went on, why do they always over-book
the flights! It’s not my fault if they sell the same seat to two
different people. I liked flying. It was having to deal with the
airlines and the people they hired that was the real
hassle.

By then, my nerves had truly
shattered, and so had my patience. I needed to straighten things
out once and for all with Noelia.

* * *

I arrived at Noelia’s house
overheated and frustrated at the world. Against her mother’s
request, I made my way to her bedroom and gave her a piece of my
irate mind; but I shouldn’t have done that. My situation, after
that, was much worse. All hopes for a quick makeup were again
freshly scattered. She had thrown me out, screaming.

I gave up and left, but only
because I was so embarrassed in front of her mother. Otherwise my
stubborn stupidity would have made me try to debate some sense into
that girl. So, with a hanging head, I left embarrassed and still
angry. It was in that manner that I found my way easily, with tail
between my legs, to a nearby bar. The mother of all
consolations.

Needless to say, it didn’t
take much to get through to my bad side. Immediately, the place got
on my nerves. The whole island was annoying, and it was all
Noelia’s fault. I couldn’t help thinking that this had been our
first fight. My insides were churning, and the pit of my stomach
felt hollow, for up till then I hadn’t imagined us getting into a
real serious situation – one that could possibly have an effect on
our relationship. The thought of losing her, although buried deep
within, made me even madder.

I tried to make some sense
of it as I sat on a chair in that lonesome bar. What was she
thinking?
I wasn’t asking much of her, but what was she asking of me! She was
demanding that I leave my life behind, and just live here. How
ludicrous! Here, in this place! What was I supposed to do, live
like lice on a pig without civilization?

Then my mind turned with
anger towards those people in the bar. I watched them and every
second made me madder, looking at them and thinking of all their
wasted lives. “Maybe she’d like it,” I said, speaking between my
teeth, “if I were more like one of the slobs in this bar, all full
of beer and smelly like a skunk. She could be happier with one of
them, maybe, since she had so much to complain about.”

I got more and more upset as
I thought about those wretched men touching my Noelia. “How would
she like it,” I went on talking to myself, “if she had to be with
one of the men at this bar? I’m not such a bad man. In fact, I’m
the best man for her! She would see this, if she were to think
about it for a bit... If she makes the wrong choice about me she’s
going to learn to regret it! Maybe then she’d recognize the big
mistake she’s making; but it will be too late then. I’d be long
gone, and she’d have lost her only chance at happiness. Maybe she’d
ruin my chances too, but at least I wouldn’t be the one to blame
for it.”

“
What does she want?” I
muttered, “To stay in this third world country that is not even
comparable to the USA? She thinks she can be happy here... She
doesn’t know; she hasn’t seen. I know what is better for the two of
us, and she is just going to have to trust me; if not, then she can
stay here, on her stupid island, and live like a peasant! These
stupid bums will treat her better than I...”

Just as I was muttering
those words, one of the bigger, uglier guys in the bar gave me a
look that didn’t please. It wasn’t the kind of look that really
expresses any kind of hostility, although to me it meant the man
wanted to start something. Poor guy, he was probably just trying to
acknowledge my existence. Unfortunately, for him, the mood I
carried was enough to bring on an encounter.

The bartender must have been
alert and keen on my intentions. I was kicked out before I had a
chance to release my fists on everyone there. Still, it wasn’t so
easy to get rid of me. It took three other big guys, who were also
on the alert, to throw me out. I could have stood them off, but I’d
been drinking the beer like water, and my balance was long gone; so
I found myself in a puddle, face down and full of mud. The barkeep
yelled out some obscenities, telling me never to come back. It all
served me well. Maybe I’d had enough to drink. Maybe it was enough
to just go home and sleep. Maybe it was laid out for me in the
cards... or maybe not.

I played on the idea, but
decided that I’d better take the safe route, before I got in
trouble, and sway my way towards my room; when a thought came... It
would be comforting to find one of those poems on my door at the
moment. Sure, there was no reason why one shouldn’t be there. There
had definitely been a major event, and now was the time when some
newly written luck and direction could bring me out of this
calamitous pit of despair.

“
Yes, there had to be one
there!” I decided, and convinced myself that there was no way I’d
be disappointed once I arrived at my doorstep. But as life and
irony would have it, when I needed it most, it was not
there.

I approached the door and
began to speak to myself with a very bad temper and a tongue that
could do nothing but slur. “I see no note! Where is my letter? I
don’t know what to do now. Why are these people trying to fool me?
There’s been a note here every time I’ve needed one, and all the
times when I didn’t want one, so where is my note now? They are
laughing at me, these savages! Where is my poem?” I stumbled around
like a clown, in search for the missing poem. What a sight I must
have been, if someone were watching, tripping myself and falling
face-first into the bushes as I desperately searched for the piece
of paper that would fix my life.

The surroundings seemed to
shudder as I swung my fist in the air in demand for an answer from
that unseen force that I felt was somewhere close. It was as if the
person with the note was sitting down a short distance away,
looking at me, taunting me. I threw my fist menacingly in the air
again, because I almost knew he was there.

“
So where are you, you
beast far from grace?” I continued shouting, promising that he
would be sorry and that he’d have to pay. “If I could see you I’d
murder you, do you know that? One less savage for this world! One
less leach on society! Your kind should be put to death and not be
allowed to suck off the substance of others. I should kill…” I
trailed off. Conscience must have struck. My last words, to this
unseen man, made me stop in my tracks and reflect on what I was
saying.

It was as if I was not only
talking to this man in particular, but to the homeless, alcoholics,
and addicts that lived in my own city back home. All the ones that
I was so sick of seeing, coming up to my car to beg for some spare
change. As I reflected on that, my thoughts made me shudder. My
words sounded hideous, even to me. Did I really feel that way? I
could imagine the bums and the homeless, with their beer and their
walk, while I said and thought of those things. Surely it had been
them that I was crying out to, as well as to this man that was so
heartless at torturing me.

Could I have meant all that
I said? Had I been a hypocrite all this time, thinking of myself as
a compassionate man? Had I gone to all those charity dinners in my
life, just to promote my social status, in sight of all the
upper-middle class society; or had I really been mindful to help
those people that so desperately needed help?

In any case, something had
to be done about all those less fortunate people. They could not
stay in the street all the time. I mean, their pathetic way of
coming up to the cars, my car, and rubbing their grime and dirt on
my windshield for one of my dollars. That was the real problem. I
had to admit it. But what could be done? Was I really just the type
of man that didn’t care particularly about them as people, but just
didn’t want them near me? What had happened to me along the way?
Was I one so selfish as that? No, that could not be me! I could not
be such a person because I had always cared more than that; or at
least I thought I had. Yes, I had always spent some time or money,
to help them, although I must admit I had never gotten in and
dirtied up my hands. That was when I had to dislike myself a
little... I hate to see myself in the real light... It is hard to
stand such truth.

“
It is all your fault, you
thing!” My thoughts of self-analysis made me cringe, and therefore
angered me, because it was his fault that had made me look at
myself that way. “You are the cause, and I should kill you! You
thing! You wretched thing of dirt!” I found myself actually
shouting to that man, that hid somewhere in the shadows, and no
longer to all the transients that had bothered me; but just at
him... And a little at myself.

My feet dragged down the
dirt road in search of consolation. I had not expected to find the
man; I just wanted to shout at him. My arms were tired from the
fistful-accusations, and my heart was heavy. I couldn’t go in to
the room now. I had to think, so I walked on as the moon dragged a
shadow across my path. The stars were glowing brilliantly, as they
always do, away from civilization and smog. They were dancing
tonight, but not with me. They waltzed in a merry flight across the
constellations, always happy, always hopeful, looking down at us,
but never really noticing our pathetic ways. Problems are so
completely meaningless to them, in comparison to what lies in the
path of their dance. These things I thought, as my feet shuffled
along.