One More Night (Part 1)

- This is at least the fifth time you hear this same song in a row…

- Yeah. I know.

- What’s up?

- Nothing…. that really matters.

- Yeah. Right. If you need something, just tell me so. I’m heading to bed.

- OK.

I did not turn around. My mind was too busy contemplating the immense and dark void ahead of my eyes, to an invisible line beyond the horizon, where the ocean met the starry pitch-black firmament.

The night was fresh and quiet and it was quite enjoyable to stay by the shore. It was late and there was almost no noise on the streets of the neighbourhood. A strange silence embraced me with its cold arms, chilling me up and giving me goose bumps. I shivered, but I knew it was not because of the cold.

The song started again. The singer’s strong and pungent voice filled my senses and hit me like an ice stalactite falling from the dark and gloomy ceiling of a cave, into the calm waters of a lagoon, rippling the surface and hitting the deep unscathed darkness.

How many mysteries and secrets can be hidden below that apparently quiet and undefaced surface?

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, diving into my own well of thoughts. Each word of that song was serving as a background to a kaleidoscopic sequence of images which brought my past back to the present with a cruel and vivid emotional distinctness.

…” They say that love can move a mountain
    They say love can break your heart 
   They say love can make you forget 
   Things that happened in the past” …  (*)

(*) One more night with you : Ged McMahon featuring Kaz Hawkins

If those words were true, I had never experienced anything that could be close to those emotions… so far…

***

I touched the scar with my fingertips, as if caressing a dear pet.

It is incredible how we get used to wounds left in our bodies and souls and we tend to touch them every time we feel weak, as if it would give us some comfort or lessen the pain or our so protected solitude. It is the same as petting our errors, giving them a more condescending view. It is like trying to protect our hearts from the consequences of our sins, hoping for a chance and opportunity to have our souls saved.

…”So wave goodbye to heaven for me

  I've thrown it all away

 Just to spend one more night with you”…(*)

- Are you still like that?

- Like what?

- You know. I’m not a child anymore. You don’t need to try and fool me…

- I know.

My hands swept the piano keys, lightly, perhaps trying instinctively to forget those chords that had kept on hammering my mind for weeks already.

I read somewhere someday that the piano keys denote our feelings. The white represent the good emotions and the black, the pain and the bad sensations. The harmony, however, comes from the balance between them. You cannot make good music without playing both, as life cannot be fully and truly lived without the balance between the good and the bad emotions.

- You should play the song up to the last chord. It’s the best way to exorcize the pain away forever and for good.

I looked at her in awe. She was a very wise young woman. So I played it. Not necessarily to exorcize anything, but to feel the pain as alive as if it were being felt for the first time at that very moment.

I played the beginning of the song as a nocturne, with my fingers gently stroking the white keys and slightly touching the black ones, as if I was caressing my soul and its pain. The music took my body and emotion and my voice, weak at the beginning, became like a cry filled with melancholy, a blues feeling, with all my nerves reacting to the sequence of notes and chords… and words. My eyes and my soul overflowed…

…” They say that love can last forever
    They say love can last a day 
    They say love is like an ocean 
    For us to sail away” … (*)

I was going down to the bottom of the well, to get the impulse and go back to the surface. I needed to go to the bottom of the bottom or else I would never come back with strength enough to overcome the pain.

***

- Was it here?

- Yes.

- Let’s walk down there.

- No, we won’t.

- Yes, we will. Come with me.

She led the way before I could even answer or protest, descending the path from the top of the sea cliff. My stomach ached. I followed in silence. That foot track was not safe and I had to keep close to her just in case, although I knew there was no real reason to worry about.

When we reached the bottom of the trail, the white sandy beach was invitingly tempting, even though it was still early spring. The ocean roared, like a beast trying to threaten us. I did not feel intimidated, though. I was born on the island, so I always faced the sea as a comrade, not a foe. You should respect, but never fear a true old friend.

We walked along the shore for a while, with our feet in the chilly waters and our heads worried only with our own individual thoughts. A group of noisy seagulls were flying over our heads and the wind blew almost fiercely against our faces.

- It was an accident, wasn’t it?

- Yes, it was… an unhappy accident.

- Did you two love each other very much?

I did not think about it.

- We were very good friends, since our school days.

- This is not an answer.

- I know. It’s not.

She looked at me with that ‘questioning the truth’ look knowing that there was no truth to be revealed anymore.

- Then why did you two decide to have a child, after all?

- Because she wanted it. It was the best decision to have a child from that respectful relationship we had, than waiting for a love that would never come. She was a very practical woman. She knew we would love and respect the child above it all.

- And you never regretted that decision?

- Of course not! Why would we?

- Don’t know… there was no love…

- It was a very wise decision, based on true respect and care. She was afraid of getting old and never being able to become a mother. She wanted it so dearly. You know what women are like…

- Haha… Yeah, right!

We laughed out loud. My pale smile could not hide the awkwardness of having to tell her the same thing for the millionth time.

- Do you think you two were happy?

- Perhaps, before the…

- It’s odd…

- What?

- Your relationship. The illness. The accident.

- It’s not odd. The accident was caused by the disease.

- But you too could have died.

- I don’t think so. I fell down when I tried to help her… I was so clumsy…

- The scar is big.

- The pain is bigger!

She shut it up. The sea seemed to explode against the rocks. She walked away in silence for a while, then she turned around to face me. She squinted her eyes as if trying to see better something that was behind me. For a moment I felt a shadow crossing her face.

- Dad?

- What?

- Is that him on top of the cliff?

- Uh? What the hell is he doing up there?

***

The Big Rocks (Part 2)

- Do you need any help?

- Oh. I hoped you would come. I'm afraid of what they can do to me.

- They will not do you any harm. Why would they?

- I need to get back to the island, but I cannot see the boat around.

- Boat? I don’t know of any boats. Why don’t you go by car or bus? It’s so much easier.

She looked at us with a strange expression, as if she did not know what I was talking about.

'The poor woman must have Alzheimer's. We better try to help her. She looks so old’, I thought.

- Come with us.

I offered my arm to hold and she accepted the help, walking between us, leaning on both our arms. She seemed calmer then. What was she afraid of, anyway?

The men hardly noticed that we were leaving the place, with the strange woman next to us. They were busy with something else.

Once downtown, after crossing the bridge, we dropped her off at the bus station terminal, so she could take the bus to Ribeirão da Ilha, where she said she lived. I paid her ticket, as she did not have any money with her. Before walking on through the gate, however, she turned around and hugged both of us. Then she put her hand in the pocket of her dress and took a small artefact hanging from a fine black cord she had in it. She gave it to her and told her to wear it for protection against all illnesses. That amulet was very powerful, she said.

I said nothing. I just looked at both of them, imagining the things people still believed in the 21st century, but I was glad that she was well and grateful for the small gesture we made. We live in such a strange time. Sometimes I miss that naive belief in witches and other fantastic beings we used to have in the past times.

We stood at the gate of the terminal until we were assured she was safe aboard of the vehicle that was going to take her back home. She kept her eyes on us, as if to be certain we were still there. We waved one last time and left.

***

An old woman, dressed in black, walked the streets of Ribeirão da Ilha, searching for a certain house. She looked rather lost, for the place was very different from that she once knew. In the difficulty of locating herself, she tried to talk to the people who passed her by, but little attention was paid by those who hurried along the streets of the neighbourhood, busy with their own things.  

A young man finally gave her the indication of the street that led down to the beach, where there was an old house, with a very worn out and stained rooftop. The house was painted white, with blue windows and easy to recognize. It was not far, just a few steps ahead of the church and there was a flowered rose bush in front. That description seemed to satisfy her, for her little black eyes widened a little, with a different glow, and a pleased expression lit her wrinkly face.

As soon as she reached the church street, she immediately recognized the house. She walked to gate and called, her voice half-stricken with age and from her thirsty dry throat. Although she had called only once, the door was soon opened and a very pretty girl came out to meet her.

The young woman kindly welcomed the stranger thinking she was a passing by beggar. The old woman smiled at her in a rather awkward way and held out her left hand. The girl returned the greeting without saying anything, but with an open smile, as if she recognized an old friend. The old woman smiled calmly.

- You're one of us. You know why I'm here...

The girl nodded slightly, still smiling, and invited her inside. As the door closed, thunder rumbled not far away and dark clouds covered the late afternoon sky, flashing lightning in the distance.

I woke up with a start.

- What was that?

***

- I've made a research about the witches on the island.

- Ah yes?

- Uh-huh ... It's interesting, but I read that a lot of what was said about them was based on old beliefs that had passed on through the generations and some were not more than stories people tell...

- Like all the folk tales.

- I think a lot of people have been deeply harmed by the wickedness of others.

- As always: evil, ignorance and fear.

- And interest.

- That's right!

- Could our 'friend' have been one of them? She looked rather frightened and afraid of those men.

- I don’t know.

- Why do people do these kind of things? Why would they take pleasure in harming others?

 - You're old enough to know that the human being is extremely complex. Envy, fear and ignorance can cause immense damage. You´ve read about the ‘Dark Ages', haven’t you?

- I read it was one of the worst times in human history. Many witches were burned alive. It was enough for one person to have thoughts contrary to what the Church wanted them to think, to be accused of witchcraft, and to be condemned. I know that many books, with very important information, have also been destroyed by then. Many innocent people were accused, convicted and killed.

- Until recently it was believed that witches were mostly hunted during the Dark Ages, but research and documents proved that it was at the end of that time and the beginning of the Modern Age, already in the Enlightenment, when Protestantism was created. Did you know that many of the things that people asserted about witches' powers, such as flying on brooms and the like, were hallucinations from a rye-growing fungus that would later be used to synthesize LSD? Rye was stored for a long time and fungi grew freely. When they made the bread, they never bothered to check anything. It was a difficult time and they were not going to throw the cereal away at the cost of not having anything to eat.

- Seriously?

- Can you imagine the things that misguided and ignorant minds could do, say and accuse, under the effect of hallucinogens?

- But not all witches were evil. There were those who were also midwives, specialists in herbs, in prayers... Some of our ancestors that landed here, with these "specialties", escaped persecution in Europe.

- I can’t say for sure whether the majority were good or bad, but I know that even today, insecure, envious, evil and ignorant people raise slander against each other and people take those for true facts, without even verifying the origin of the information. Just go to social networks and you have a million and a half examples... and we no longer need bonfires to burn modern witches.

- All you need is a 'click', a 'like', a 'share' or a comment...

- See? This is worse than fire on dry straw. And the fire burns everything in a very short time, because everyone always want to post an opinion about what they do not even know anything about.

- True. It's worse than mass hysteria. I read about the legend of a very beautiful woman who was accused of witchcraft on the island because she bewitched the men and walked alone at night, tied knots to the clothes that were hanging to dry and also cut and tied up the fishermen's nets...

- A beautiful woman "bewitches" men... In fact, it is they who are bewitched, but you know very well how a woman can do a lot of "damage", if she wants to.

She laughed. She knew very well what I was talking about.

- And as jealous women can defame a good girl, out of sheer spite... or men, out of rejection. There is no limit to human wickedness...

***

- It was so kind of her to give me this amulet. Luck is always welcome.

- Be careful with the things you believe in.

- It has nothing to do with what I believe, but with kindness.

- Even so. Be cautious.

- I'll be... Will it bring luck in love, too?

She looked at me with a smile. I just raised my eyebrows in a sign of mistrust and disapproval. She laughed.

- I knew you'd make this face.

She headed toward the beach in quick steps. She was not going to wait for an answer, anyway.

I stared at the balcony as she walked along the beach with her feet in the sea water. She looked like a child. She stopped near the big rocks and stared, as if examining them. Those stories of witches seemed to be the fascination of the moment, and the big rocks, the point of greatest interest.

I laughed. It is always good to have curiosity in less ordinary things and think and draw conclusions about the things you read.

***

We were sitting on the porch, watching the lights reflected in the sea at night, as we used to, when the weather was fine. The coffee mugs lay empty on the coffee table. We were lost in thought without necessarily speaking. Each one occupied with their own thoughts... or almost... with those immense rocks as the framework.

- Do you remember the first thing she said?

- Nope. Do you?

- Of course. She said, "I hoped you would come. I'm afraid of what they can do to me."

- Ah. She was scared, as you know.

- Yes, but I was referring to the "I was hoping you would come." How could she hope we would come? How could she know?

- It was just an expression of what she wanted.

- Was it?

- You don’t want me to think she knew, do you? This story has already gone too far. Do not impress yourself more than necessary.

- What if she really knew?

- How could she know? Did she read a message sent by email or chat? I can’t imagine that woman, so old, with a computer in her hands... nor with her hands on a computer.

I realized that she was not amused by my joke, so I did not continue the conversation. After a few minutes, when she seemed to be thinking far away, she commented again.

- This story still will not let me sleep.

I remembered my dream and questioned her.

- Have you been dreaming? Any awkward dreams?

- Kinda.

- Have you dreamed or not?

She turned and looked at me directly and seriously.

- I have.

I listened attentively to the dream, which was identical to what I had had. Impressive how the stories were so alike, even in the small details. There must be some plausible explanation for that.

We were both impressed by the conversation we had had, we knew the place, we had discussed details... but for which reason the dreams were identical in the smallest detail, I still could not say.

I kept my silence and that was enough to throw a little more firewood to the stake of doubt and imagination. That little smile was a sign of victory, but she thought I did not notice it.

- Don’t you think we should go to the Ribeirão da Ilha and do a little research?

- Subtle... very subtle... but I think we should, yes.

***

- Anybody home?

She laughed at my display of knowledge of the local culture.

- What? Is it not like this?

- Yes, it is. Go ahead.

The old blue door was opened by a very pretty girl. I recognized her the moment she smiled. Apparently we had the same thought, for both of us smiled with satisfaction. The house was the same... and the girl too… just like in our dreams.

We had so many questions to ask, but even before we opened our mouths to say or ask anything, we saw the black-clad figure coming from behind the young girl.

- Come in. We were waiting for you.

***

Of Sea and Men (Part 2)

- Are you feeling well? Do you have any sign of pain?

The frown and the blank stare showed evidence that the boy was quite confused and making a huge effort to realize what was happening in the small hospital room, surrounded by people dressed in white, who were absolute strangers to him.

There was also a more mature man, wearing normal clothes, watching the whole scene, with very sharp attentive eyes, but without uttering any word. He had a somewhat friendly face, auburn beard and light brown hair thinned at the top of the head. For some reason he could not explain, he felt an immediate sympathy for the man leaning against the immaculately white wall of the hospital room.

The doctor had tested all his vital signs, auscultated his body and was now examining him with a small flashlight. They had already made all possible tests, including X-rays and ultrasound, to check how healthy his organs were. Physically, the young man was in good shape. They still needed to ascertain whether the head injury brought any side effects to his mental or cognitive response… or both…

- Can you understand what I say? Are you able to remember your name, where you come from, who you are... anything at all?

The boy showed no change in that faraway look, just a quick, almost unnoticeable eyebrow frown. He was probably trying hard to adjust the brain work and understand the message expressed by the words of the doctor, who had just examined him completely and insisted on knowing anything about him.

- Can you understand what I say?

- I understand the words, but it's all so confusing...

The pressure that was being placed on him, with those questions, did not seem to help much. It was better to leave the boy alone for some time. He needed some rest. The doctor called the older man out of the room with a nod.

***

- You were found by me on the beach, unconscious, completely naked and with a rather dreadful wound on the back of your head. We were expecting that the memory would be affected by a concussion. Can you understand what I mean?

The boy nodded.

- As much as I try, I cannot recall anything. My mind is just completely blank...

The ferry cruised toward the island, bringing those two men so different from each other, sitting side by side, each one with his own history. In each head, a different intention in relation to their complex pasts: one trying to rescue what had been forgotten and the other trying to forget what had never failed to be painfully reminded...

***

The fisherman felt he had some responsibility for the boy, for having found him and, in agreement with the hospital administration, decided to bring him back to the island to try and help him recover the lost memory.

They walked along the beach, heading for the place where he was found by the fisherman, after the stormy night. The boy slowed his pace down and looked at the man, as if he knew him well and said:

- Why do you hide yourself in this island, far from everything and everyone and with this profession that is not yours?

- How do you know that?

- I do not know how to explain. I just feel it. And I also feel that there is much more to say, but you keep on avoiding it...

- I do not avoid anything...

The older man smirked, avoiding the direct staring from the young man, who was walking beside him. He thought to himself that he did not have to give any satisfaction to him, but a strange feeling that he could trust the other man and open his heart up, crossed his mind flippantly.

Messing with the past, after all that time, did not seem to be a good thing anyway. Some skeletons ought to be kept in the cupboard forever. Best to leave the past where it well belonged in: far away in the most possible distant and untouched bygone times...

The boy carefully looked back at the man and smiled, more to himself than to be noticed, at that response, triggered, almost impatiently and without any eye contact.

- I have to respect you, not only for what you are doing to me, but for wanting to keep your secrets away from everyone. If that's what you prefer, there is nothing I can say or do. I hope you know what you're doing.

- I do know what I’m doing. Trust me... This is the place. It was here where I found you, almost dead. Do you want to be alone?

The boy looked around. Although he acknowledged the place was quiet and its natural beauty was almost untouched and wild, bringing him a sense of serenity, it did not evoke any true recollection in his mind.

- I don’t know. This place does not mean anything to me. The fact that I was found here, does not imply that the accident... or incident… took place around here, anyway.

He was right. So much could have happened: an accident, an assault, an unfortunate coincidence... The site might not have anything to do with what really happened to him.

The man looked at the boy. He did not seem to be worried about finding out where he came from or where he would go, who he had been or what he might come to find out, when he recovered his memory. Apparently, the only thing that mattered to him was being alive. He did not need to carry the unnecessary burden of a past to remember. That seemed to be enough for a man who knew so little about himself that far.

What a strange feeling! He made a quick trip inside himself and wondered how different they were. Not having a past to remember seemed to be so much easier to live with than struggling to conceal or bury one...

They were both standing side by side, looking at the horizon, each man absorbed in his own thoughts... so close and yet so far at the same time. The boy closed his eyes and felt the wind messing with his fair hair, touching his pale skin, bringing the pleasant aromas of the ocean and the seaweed and filling him with a gust of life.

Life. That was an unusually strong and weak concept at the same time. It was a reality or an illusion that we always carry along with us? How unpredictable can it be? How unreasonable it is to remain physically healthy and mentally sane? Why did those thoughts fill his mind like the air filled his chest? Why did he feel good, knowing there was nothing dearly to him in that place? Why there were so many questions and no answers at all?

He sighed, breathing the ocean air in. That place had become his all: his present and his future... and perhaps his only refuge, until now...

- Let's go back, shall we? I'm hungry. I will prepare something to eat. If you want to be left alone here for a while, it's up to you...

- I'd like just to stay here just a little longer, if it is not a problem... I enjoy this peace and this sense of silence in my soul.

- No problem, of course. Stay as long as you wish. I’ll be home anyway.

***

The older man stood up and collected the plates from the table. They had dined without exchanging many words. Although they appreciated each other's company, they did not extend the conversation long, as the issues would tend to turn around a very limited sphere of subjects which were avoided by both.

The boy picked the rest of the crockery and cutlery up and put them carefully in the sink. He turned around, walked out to the veranda and leant on the deck rail, looking at the empty darkness and listening, not far away, the soft, monotonous song of the sea. The air was cold, but he did not care much. He liked the mild fresh air of the autumn and the typical sounds of the night on the island.

The other man was watching, from inside the house, that man so much younger than him, with so much life still ahead and no memory to relive at all. At least, he thought, he had no reason to feel any nostalgia...

How many plans might have been made at some point in his short life, and were abandoned without any completion? How many possibilities would also be opened for him in the future? Probably many of them would be regarded as if they had never been planned, although they had been... A page... or many, yet all blank and with so much still to be written by the hands of fate. It was as if the previous pages had been torn apart from that precious book, leaving it almost like new and ready to be used as if it were the first time. All he had to do was to start from that point on and rewrite many interesting new stories...

The fisherman thought of himself and how he wished he could have a chance, too, to rewrite his own life story. He sadly laughed at himself, thinking that there, in the same house, there were two human beings so different from each other and with such opposite intentions in relation to their pasts. Funny thing, however, they had yet so much future ahead of them.

He walked into the porch with a mug of hot coffee in his hands and offered the other man, who accepted it, smiling. He leaned on the railing next to the boy. They were both looking at the immense open darkness around them, with their thoughts flying free with the night wind and listening to the monotonous lapping of the ocean continuously caressing the island coastline.

- You already paid for your mistakes. You could have already forgiven yourself and moved on with your life.

- How do you know if I’ve already paid? How can you tell me to get on with my life? Am I not living another life already?

- It's not what your eyes show... They always have such a great aloofness and this sadness is so touching...

The man closed himself in his shell. He did not want to relive the anguish and the sense of guilt he once felt. Yes, he had already paid that painful punishment.

A surgical procedure, where the patient had not survived the intervention, was a severe enough reason to stay live in his memory for long. Yes, he had operated drunk, but what choice did he have? Anyway, he had been tried and convicted. The verdict was manslaughter and he was incarcerated for three years for the crime, without any right for bail, due to his act of negligence. He had duly paid his guilt in its entirety, despite the reduction attempts, made by an expensive lawyer known by his expertise. The process culminated with the loss of the license and the right to exercise the medical profession, definitely.

Between the feelings of remorse and indignation, he had buried everything inside his heart and restarted, on that island, away from everyone he had known one day and that had abandoned him completely, while he was imprisoned. There, in the island, he was a total stranger and his past did not matter to anyone. What he liked in the community, was that he could have his own private life and no one seemed interested in knowing more than what he wanted to show. He had no interest in knowing about the lives of others either. He had no time or curiosity about their histories anyway.

But towards the young man with no past, he felt a genuine interest. Somewhere inside his soul and for a reason he did not really care about, he felt he should help him out of that situation. In his heart, he felt responsible for that boy, at least until he recovered his memory and moved on with his own life.

***

 The doctor came, as usual, on a pale cold Thursday and called them to his office. He examined the boy and asked how he was feeling. Then he asked him to sit down. By the way he started the conversation, he seemed set to make a serious statement. He picked up a brown envelope from inside his briefcase, cleared his throat out and said:

- I just received this Police Report. I believe you will find it pretty interesting...

He handed the envelope in to the boy and waited for his reaction. He opened it, read the report and handed it in to the fisherman, so he could read it too. The doctor acknowledged that was a clear demonstration of trust. The older man flipped through the few pages and returned the report to its rightful owner.

- It does make sense. Do you think that helps?

- I don’t know yet. For now, there is nothing much I can say. It seems my memory is not instantly restored simply by reading the report, after all. It does not work that way, no matter how hard I try to do so.

The doctor finished a complete check-up and dismissed himself from work, since there was no one else to be seen that day. He invited the two men to go along with him to the Coffee Shop and chat a little more relaxed.

The doctor knew that the heads of the two... and his also... were working briskly. The coffee was just a subtle excuse to discuss what they had just read and, besides that, he still had some time before going back to the mainland that night…

***