The late sun, still strong, kept him in the
cool shade of the beachfront bar. Joe’s bar. Joe built this bamboo and leaf
bar. Damn nice really.
This heat made it hard to know if you were
drunk or delirious.
Around five a group of young local girls met
at the bar. The poetry of their lingering language danced through the open
room, up through the palm fronds, up through the hot sunshine, up to the
heavens.
They all noticed the stranger immediately
upon entering.
There had been whispers. Cupped-hand
communications, flashing eyes, and giggles. The conversation grew more stern
for a moment or two. Then one of the girls broke from the group in order to
approach the stranger.
Young and shy, she paused a moment to compose
herself. To try on the new layer of life.
Looking up, over the rim of what seemed and
was a table almost full of empty glasses. The one he was looking over happened
to be ½ full. Joe had wanted to clear the empties but the stranger insisted he
leave them. Physical evidence of his existence, of the damage.
She thought about how small the distance was
from the bar to the corner. The biggest distance travelled was from her
village, her family. Like most of the families around here it was a large
family. 7 or 8 siblings were born, but not all survived.
She had dreamed of being a doctor. And there
had even been a chance. A scholarship being donated by the village doctor. But
she was too young to go to university. And the village couldn’t wait the 6-7
years it would take for her to finish secondary school and then complete her
degree. The old doctor wanted to retire. The scholarship went to an older
student.
And now she was crossing the floor. Eyes
softening, mouth up-turning into a smile, her body beginning to move like one
of the girls who had taken so much pain and effort to teach her.
The stranger lowered his gaze a bit to look
at his reflection in the nearest glass. Is there a target on my forehead? Am I
a mark? Of course I am. No matter how native you go you will never assimilate.
Non-native is non-native and it doesn’t matter where you are.
The stranger glanced around quickly and
realized he had always been a stranger. School was a textbook nightmare of the
new kid syndrome; a mark, a target for the bullies. Seven schools in ten years
before he realized he might as well pack it in for all it was worth. And here,
even here, tucked away in paradise in his linen suit he still stood out.
Perhaps
this will be different.
The sun’s rays now slanted across Joe’s
almost horizontally. The stranger looked up to see a silhouette, shift,
blinding light, shift, a silhouette… with a smile. The summer cotton dress
played lightly over the girl’s body. It was a fine body.
There was a moment. Two people, face to face,
unknown to one another. The expectation of meeting, inevitable. The tone is
set, the stage ready. And time still stretches; and when it’s just about ready
to slip off the scale the stranger nodded his head. One slightly perceptive
movement that opened the path.
She sat, delicately. On the edge of the
chair. They looked one another over exchanging body measurements, physical
scars and beauties.
The stranger sat still, eyes travelling. – Am
I dreaming? – Time was all he had and he liked the prospects of the future.
She sat stiller, eyes travelling. – Why
doesn’t he speak? – Waiting to see how her future would unfold.
The stranger’s eyes stopped on hers. He
tilted his head to indicate whether she would like a drink or not.
“Yes, thank-you. A drink would be nice.” her
English was slow and with little traces of an accent.
