This was goodbye, the time had come, as they both knew it must. He walked her to the boat, but couldn’t touch her. She walked beside him, but couldn’t speak, didn’t dare. Both were afraid to break the spell that had taken them, all those weeks ago.
She had journeyed long and far to get here, by car, by plane, by train, by boat, and finally by small boat, to seek peace. Four weeks she had to fit in five years of relaxation. Four weeks to get control, four weeks to prepare. A new job was waiting for her at home, another step up the ladder. She came to get a tan, and her two suitcases held her bathing suit, a shirt or two, a skirt, and books to prepare her for her new position.
He had journeyed long and far to get here, four months ago, to learn the secrets of martial art. One year he planned to stay, one year to learn his art and, hopefully, to learn himself. He brought little with him in his knapsack here to the island, a pair of shorts, sandals, a few tanks. For four months he trained, and listened to his masters, and became strong in both mind and body.
They met first when she arrived, although neither remembers the exchange. It was dawn, and he had just finished his morning calisthenics, and was shadow boxing on the beach. She was coming into the bay on a small boat whose stability she did not trust, after a night on a ferry that navigated seas made angry by thunderstorms above. She dismissed the brute shadow boxing on the sand; women like her were above the need to practice violence. He was momentarily amused, watching this young woman, aged by responsibility, trying to lug her two suitcases up the beach. Women like that don’t belong here, he thought to himself, and focused again on his meditation.
They met again in the water, on neutral territory. She had swum out to the raft in the middle of the bay, and he was already on board, and helped her up. Attraction was immediate, albeit only physical at first. A hot tropical fling was on her to-do list for this vacation, and he was in need of physical release, and so they melded, parting only to their individual meditations, he to his training, her to her books. When together, they spoke of little, and nothing of consequence; they didn’t even know the other’s name. For a week and a half they carried on, each meeting hotter than the last, but soon questions began formulating in their minds. Who is this person, who is this body that shares my bed, and the questions frightened them, and so they ceased to meet. For one week they were apart in their own meditations, he to his training, her to her books, and yet the focus their mediations used to provide did so no longer, and thoughts of the other snuck into their minds, and secretly, they began to wish for a chance meeting, on the beach perhaps, or in the water, or in town. The meeting never came, and both despaired, and then resolved to forget the other.
One day, a week later, he decided to swim out to the raft in the middle of the bay, and she was already on board, and she helped him up, and they knew. They spent their days and nights together, and hiked around the island, finding their own secluded beaches, and fruit trees, and jungle creatures. She watched him train, and marveled at the strength and control he possessed, at the singleness of focus he commanded. This man, whom she had known as so full of laughter and silliness and light, and yet could be so focused and sure, and her eyes opened, and she gained a new appreciation for him. His training, she saw, was not the brutish pursuit of violence, but was instead a search for himself, a meditation. They spent their nights talking, and he asked about her books of philosophy and science that she so faithfully studied, and she explained her theories and hopes for her new work, and he began to see her as more similar to himself than he had first thought. While he sought himself in physical pursuits, she sought herself in science, and those books he had first thought of as an escape were really her tools, as were his body and sparring knives. Each saw in the other a kindred, although they looked quite different, and their hearts came together, and honored each other.
Soon, their days came to an end, and the final day arrived. He came to her after training, and they walked down the beach, and swam out to the raft. Each was aware that something fundamental had happened to them, something irreversible, something both wonderful and frightening at the same time because both knew that they could never go back to who they were before, and so they walked to the boat in silence. She carried only a small knapsack for her bathing suit and shirts and skirt, having left the books behind. She didn’t need the theories of others anymore, she would create new ones. They reached the water’s edge, and he grabbed her hand, and his eyes glistened with everything he couldn’t say. He had gone as far out as he could, it was up to her to complete the link, but she could not. Her future still called her, and instead of telling him her heart she leaned into his kiss, and brushed the tear off of her cheek. Both had grown, but not enough yet to understand what they were walking away from, although their hearts ached for the loss, and so she stepped into the boat, not daring to look at him, and he stayed at the water’s edge, and helped the boat to turn around, giving it a final push off into waters deep enough for the small motor to be brought to life. It started with a roar, and the boat moved a few paces, then the motor sputtered out. He stepped into the water and walked alongside the boat, and she lifted her eyes to his, and they smiled, then the motor roared again, and took her away.
He stayed in the water for some time, half expecting to see her come back, then sat for a time on the beach, and stared off at the raft in the middle of the bay. Finally, he took one of the books from her suitcases, and began to read. |
