Safe in Clua

THIRTY-ONE

Felix

Icut the engine and dip my head to see out of the Mustang’s windshield and up the stone path that cuts through the forest. There are fewer Big Leaf Magnolia and palms on this side of the island. More rubber trees and xate plants.

A reluctant smile pulls at my lips.

“Ex-a-te?” I shake my head and run my fingers through the fern-like leaves.

“No, silly. It’s spelled X-A-T-E but it’s pronounced shhhha-te.” Rosa flicks her wide brown eyes up from her sketch pad and wrinkles her nose. It’s smudged with charcoal. “If you’re bored you can still make it to go fishing with the guys. I won’t be offended.” She shrugs and the wide neck of her faded turquoise and gray tie-dye T-shirt slips down her shoulder. “Watching me draw plants isn’t exactly a fun first date. I figured I’d have this finished by now. It’s due tomorrow.”

“I don’t mind. I like watching you draw.” I reach over to where she’s sitting cross-legged in the dirt and brush the black mark from the tip of her nose. “I think I’d like doing just about anything with you.”

Her smile in response to my lame attempt at charm tightens my chest in a way I haven’t felt before. I’m pretty sure I could see that smile every day for the rest of my life and never get bored of it.

My heart thuds heavily as I peel my fingers from their white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel and lean back in the seat blinking away the vivid images. Coming back here always brings them out. The memories. The starry-fucking-eyed sureness that we’d have forever. I swallow thickly and tug the key from the ignition before climbing out of the car with a grunt of discomfort.

I miss my pickup. This one is too low. Too small. Too not me.

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I wrap my fingers around the smooth gem-like glass I found on the beach this morning and kick at a pebble on the first flat stone of the path.

I suck in a lungful of humid air and lift my gaze to the crisscross of trees above and the tiny fractions of blue sky beyond them. It’s crazy, but I always expect to see some sort of sign when I’m here. In her place. Some sort of hint from the universe that she’s up there and not just … Gone.

I force my feet to move. Force the rest of me to follow down the winding path, up steps so old I wouldn’t be surprised if they were from the beginning of time. I concentrate on how my Converse flatten the green moss that covers each step and steel myself against what waits for me at the top—the reason I’m here.

I never imagined I’d get to this moment. If I’m honest, I never thought I wanted to. But now that I am…

The image of Laia’s awkward smile yesterday when she agreed to come to Zi’s parent’s party with me lifts a little of the weight. Makes it easier to breathe as I reach the last step. It’s a big deal. My parents will be there. My friends too. It’ll make things official. Real. Laia deserves real.

The clearing beyond the end of the path steals what little air I have left in my lungs and every single thought from my mind. My attention’s not drawn by the mass of turquoise ocean beyond the small, flat grass-covered cliff-top, or the cloudless sky beyond it.

The only thing I see is the headstone in the middle of the clearing and the woman on her knees beside it. I knew she’d be here. She’s been here every Thursday morning for ten years.

Visiting her daughter.

She turns when I near, and I’m sucker-punched in the gut like I am every time I see her. Rosa was her mother’s double. Looking into Rosemarie’s face is like looking into a future that was taken from me. Her waist length black hair may be streaked with gray and there may be more lines around her mouth and eyes, but the resemblance never fades.

Her face breaks into a wide smile and she lifts herself onto her feet when I stop before the carved stone plaque. “Felix. What a lovely surprise.” She brushes her hands on her loose green dress and holds her arms out.

I lean down to hug her. Lavender and lime. The scent takes me back to the hundreds of meals we shared in her tiny cottage not far from here. I should visit her more.

If she wants me to after I say what I’ve come to say. The thought of her hearing about Laia from someone else doesn’t sit well. And it’s only a matter of time.

“Rosemarie.” I kiss her cheek before I pull back. “How are you?”

She lets out a soft sigh when I release her. “I’m good, sweet boy. You know…” Her dark eyes flit to the headstone and her smile falters.

I know.

My hand lifts to the tight muscles in the back of my neck. “I came here to … I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Her head tilts to the side and she watches as I try to find the right words. “You’ve met someone.” Her lips tip up and she closes her fingers over my forearm. Artist’s fingers. Short nails, strong grip. Muted colors forever stained into her now age-lined skin.

“How did you know?” I cover her fingers with my hand.

She lets out a soft laugh. “I guessed as much at the market last month. Mama always said that when the lemons grow big a change is coming. I saw you with her. Saw your face when you looked at her and I hoped…”

“You hoped?” I’m powerless to halt the frown from creasing my forehead. This is not how I expected this to go down.

“Felix, Rosa would have never wanted you to be alone forever. And neither do I.” Her stare holds my own, nothing but truth and sad acceptance shining from her face.

I release the breath caught painfully in my lungs. “I came here to…” I shake my head and shove my hand in my pocket, my gaze dropping back to the name on the stone. To the swirls and dots identical to my tattoo engraved beneath. “I dunno…”

“To say goodbye?” Her wide eyes blink, shining with emotion, her smile small. Sad. But full of understanding. “It’s okay. You can say it.”

My jaw tightens. It’s hard to breathe past the knot in my throat, but I nod.

“She’d be happy for you.” She cups my cheek then turns to look out over the ocean. “It’s time.”

I nod again, the warm salty breeze tugging at my hair.

“Don’t be a stranger, Felix.” She squeezes my fingers one last time before she goes.

I watch her turn. Watch her walk away.

And then it’s just us. I rest my hand on the top of the headstone and squat down before it. My insides twist so tightly they ache as my gaze moves over the engravement. The pebbles and ornaments. The tiny bottles of sand I’ve brought back from every new beach I’ve visited over the years.

I clear my throat and take the ocean-worn glass from my pocket. “I found this on the beach this morning.” I place it beside the other trinkets. “It made me think of you.” Scrubbing my hand down my face, I let out a long sigh. “This doesn’t mean I’ll forget us, Rosa. I just … she makes it better. She makes me better.”