Dead Awake: The Last Crossing (8 page)

For a second I thought she
had contemplated something... Up and forever, and everything
blurred by us, then she stopped and turned to tell me that if I had
not come for her, when I did, she would have come for
me.

“
And I would have found
you!” she said, speaking in some form of Spanish which I could
barely understand.

That was a great thing! She
was fond of me, as I was of her. I even dared to fantasize that she
had missed me as I had missed her, waiting for the time to pass
until we met again. Then we continued, for she was excited to show
me the place where we were going. It was very close now, she
said.

Where was she taking me,
this thing of beauty? The surroundings were breathtaking, but
lacked my attention because of her. The way her dark skin curved
and danced was a thing of grace, describing deity to my eyes. As a
child I had imagined a friend like her. This friend would come to
my window and take me with her to the wild country, and play many
games with me.

Yet Noelia was much more
than a childhood dream. She was a thing of adoration that altered
reality in a supreme value. She held my hand... A warm current
wrapped my arm and I felt secure, as a young child led by his
mother to the marketplace. I did not care where we were going, as
long as when we reached our destination she did not fly away from
me, as I’d imagined she would. I was convinced that she would
unfold her wings, as an angel, and fly away to where she had been
missed. Then, because of grief, I would become a painter,
thereafter sprung upon her inspiration, to spend the rest of my
life creating images of her and no one else.

Noelia looked back at me
periodically, smiling and giggling. She ran through the forest with
great agility, far greater than mine, even though her feet were
naked and I had shoes on. All the while, as we ran, I heard a
roaring waterfall foaming over some immense cliff beyond sight.
Then we were there... She brought me to a sudden halt and caught me
in her arms, right before I tumbled over the edge that would have
sent me soaring over a giant cliff. Beneath our feet was a sight so
spectacular, that my only description of it was that we had
penetrated the borders of heaven. We were in the clouds and my
heart didn’t need to break, for she had taken me home with
her.

There, beneath us, was a
plunge into infinity. We were on the edge of a cliff adjacent to a
waterfall, so vast, that it scarcely fit into my comprehension. The
trees and plants, on our side of the canyon, ran all the way up to
the peak until the floor dropped, without warning, into a basin of
mist. Its disguise and my willful disregard towards the
surroundings was what had caught me off guard and would have meant
my doom had it not been for Noelia. She was as familiar with this
wilderness, as anyone can be of his or her own home.

This waterfall, before me,
was so grand that it made me realize how small a man I was. I was
completely powerless under the hand of nature. All the reasons and
responsibilities, demanding my return to the states were drowned in
the huge sight in front of me. My reality was smaller, infinitely
smaller, than I had imagined it to be. Still, she was there and as
long as she was, it didn’t matter how small a part of reality I
was. With her at my side I could become the greatest of all God’s
creations. Then again, my importance mattered not and melted. At
first, into the roar of the tremendous amounts of falling water,
and then into her eyes, as our lips met and we kissed.
* * *

As I approached the door to
my room, I could see, hanging on the door, another one of those
notes. I had previously suspected that Noelia had been the one
writing the poems, but now, as she had been with me the entire day,
was sure it wasn’t her. Someone else was the author, but the
mystery would have to wait to be solved.

I detached the note from its
snag. I wished they didn’t have to put it on that nail. It always
made a hole in the paper. A work of art shouldn’t have to go
through such drilling torture. I opened the note, which this time
had been left folded, like a mystery waiting to be unraveled by
someone willing. I was that someone.

Whomever it had been, that
wrote the poem, had, this time, done so in English; yet there were
no misused words, or rough badly-written sentences, just a well
used language well placed into poetic beauty; and thus it
read:

HER (colors)

Something unusual

Soft streaming
beauty

It breaks the coarse
horizon

Covering the
landscape

The colors are
changed

Fluorescent greens have
died

Leaving the soothing
breeze

Warming through the valley’s
eve

It’s a dash of sprinkle
white

Soft hands across an icy
face

Mine, like the sunset,
ever-changing

But her, to create a glossy
blue sky

The tones are
melting

Bleeding, weaving into
one

The decorative lilies in her
hair

Seem to dance across the
hilltops

Where I created
streams

To lift – and bend – and
stir

The sky... then air –
slides

Rushing sudden-

Red meets blue
Hail!

The purple: It’s a sonnet
greeting night

Wash away all pale and
dull

It’s one breath beneath this
trail

Wave of thrashing
waterfall

To sail across its frosty
edge

Wrapped around in
safet

Know not where I am but
You

I held my breath and put the
poem down. Once again, it felt as if my lips had just barely left
hers, and the shrill and triumph returned through my body. How was
it that this man knew what words to write? They were the exact
words that were in my heart.

I thought the unknown author
could be a man, for I don’t think the poem was meant to win me
over. It was just a perfect description of what I had just gone
through and how beautiful it was. I had to show it to Blanca! Maybe
this time, with this note, after I told her what I’d gone through
with Noelia, she would change her mind about the curse.

The way there was easy. Not
at all like before, when I had dreaded the confrontation and had
tried to talk myself out of getting any advice from Blanca. I
hardly thought of it, this time, but rather thought of Noelia. Her
little life, her village and this little place, so close to home,
where my heart wanted to be, pranced inside me in a dance of joy.
When I arrived at Blanca’s door, it was open to welcome me
in.

“
Blanca!
Alli esta?
Where are you, my mother?” A little head popped around the corner
and a hand with a pot.

“
Aqui estoy, mijito.
You comin for yous suppers alredy? I no evin finish it yet. AY!
Ay!” Her head bobbed up and down and was relentless as she panicked
to hurry up and finish making something to eat. It was funny, to
me, that eating was one of the most important things for the
islanders. Or maybe, not eating, but serving the food and being
ready to do so. It didn’t matter if you dropped by unannounced; the
food was to be expected without say. And if the hostess did not
have the food ready, it was always her fault and not
yours.

It appeared silly that
Blanca should have to go through such stress over me, so I calmed
her down and told her I had not come to eat. She calmed down some,
but she still insisted in giving me something. She served me some
fried bananas topped with condensed milk, then sat down. It was a
relief to see her sit and by the way she looked, it was probably
the first time she had done so all day.

“
Mamita, I came to tell you
about the new letter I got. It came to me tonight. This is why I’ve
come.” I started the process of taking out the letter.

“
New letter?” she asked,
looking very confused. She hadn’t understood what I’d meant, for I
never called the poems letters. Perhaps she thought it was a
dispatch from the States that had bad news in it, or worse,
something demanding my return. She had grown so accustomed to me,
that my leaving date gave her heartache. I could read her fear, at
that moment, so I explained it to her.

“
It’s not from the states
Blanca, don’t worry.”

Her face smiled to my
response and answered back happier, “Yous know me toos well,
mijito. How you know I tink it from States?”

Her arms stretched out to
hold me and I enjoyed a motherly hug. She held my shoulders after
the hug then asked, “So what’s it sit, den?”

“
It’s another one of those
beautiful poems I receive. Look, this time it’s so nice. The person
wrote it for me in English. Let me show you and tell you what it
says.”

To my surprise, Blanca
became angered, as she lunged towards the poem, trying to push it
away. “No, I do not want to hers yur expication any mors. I toughts
yous hungry, dat why you come! And I toughts yous finally sees and
be safe and du what I say is good for yous. I pray and pray to the
santo dat maybe dis be taken away, but now I sees it still heres.
Oh what can we do, what can we do?” She started to sob and wave her
hands in gesture of frustration.

“
No, you do not see... I
met this wonderful girl and she is the most beautiful thing in this
world. You see, we met and she led me to this place in the
mountains where there was this great waterfall and I think she is
the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen. You don’t understand Blanca. I
wanted to show you this poem because . . .”

But she cut me off before I
could explain. “Becas notin. You fall in love with dis girl and naw
she’s curs toos. If El Malagra finds out about her she toos will
fall to the curs. Donz you see, you make dis bad for hers
now?”

“
No Blanca – that is
enough! It is not bad at all. Let me tell you! She is not under any
curse! This poet, that brings me his work, seems to know our
futures, our good fortunes. Yes, at first I didn’t believe it
myself, but see for yourself Blanca. He spoke about her in this
poem, and I don’t know how he does it, but whatever this Malagra
is, that you’re talking about, I’m sure it had nothing to do with
the poems or this mans ability to foresee my good fortune. I should
pay the man for his good services. But anyway, whatever it is, or
if there is such a thing as your Malagra, I’m sure this is the good
kind of Malagra and not the bad kind.” I began to be agitated, as a
man is that is told his love is not for him.

Blanca’s face dropped dimmer
and her sobbing increased to a louder agony. “No mijito, it is yous
that does no understand... Poor girl... No good can come, poor
girl. Somtin tragic will happen. Da curse espreads, and no one can
stop it, only, maybe, El Gauchito. But even his not naw answer my
prayer.” She cut off her conversation and went into a
meditation-trance, chanting some local prayer, again, to this
Gauchito. I immediately interrupted her, now perturbed with her
ridiculousness.

“
Look Blanca, there is
nothing bad going to happen! So far, there has been nothing but
nice and good that has come out of these poems and I will not have
you say anything ill-predicted about Noelia! She is lovely and
good, and her relationship with me will only benefit her. I don’t
want you to be spreading any of your rumors or superstitions
around, especially when it might get back to her family! I mean –
the serious repercussions it could have on us! They are just as
superstitious, if not more, than you are, and that could have a bad
effect on her. Especially the way family influence is around
here... Maybe she’d think it wouldn’t be good to see me. No!
Blanca. I will not have you talking wildly about this any more!
This silliness stops now!”

“
No,
mijito,
you
dons see... Poor child, I...” Now mad, I cut her sentence without
giving her a chance to speak.

“
No Blanca, you stop with
this right now! I mean it! I won’t have any more of it!” My hand
was in the air and I was so irritated and silly that my face was
red. I must have looked like a lobster at that point, but all my
arguing, disputing and threatening was useless because she wasn’t
going to listen to me. So I just had to endure more of her nonsense
and, of course, more of her silly chants to El all popular Gauchito
Gill.

I left a little after that,
when I could no longer tolerate a second more of it. In all
reality, I think it got me so razed up because I had fallen in love
with Noelia, without noticing it yet and any thought of risking her
loss was a direct assault. Yes, I am sure that was the case, but
where and exactly when it was that I fell in love with Noelia is
unknown to me. I just know that as far back as I can remember I
have felt for Noelia in that same way. So I left the kitchen,
furious, wanting never to return. There was no change of opinion
taking place in Blanca’s mind ... or in mine.

CHAPTER 5

El Pajaro de
Fuego

The days passed by
comfortably. I spent most of my time with Noelia and saw much of
her family. Noelia took me to all her favorite places and I found
myself falling deeper and deeper into the pit of love, where no
escape could be found; though I would have had no part in escape,
even if there had been signs that foretold a future full of
torment. Yes, I would have gladly let the rope dangle that would
have pulled me out of the pit, for such was my case: an everlasting
well of love, a place that was magical, surpassing all I’d ever
hoped for.