The other side of the island - Part 7 (story)

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The next day Frieda did not speak to any of them. She spent hours sitting on a small hill, verging dangerously close to the cliff that, on this part of the island, overlooked the sea. Whatever was worrying her, she told it to the wind and the sky, her mouth arched in that song only she could hear. The lone guard kept his distance for they had all grown accustomed to the strange being’s moods and rituals. She’d come back inside once she was done staring into nothingness.
Jonathan hated the days when his little alien friend would take out the old silver jumpsuit from under the bed and hug it to her chest, lost to this world. He hated the ache he knew to be in her heart, he hated she had not forgotten her old partner and his ghost came to haunt her. When the sun went down, he was relieved to see Frieda back, all calm, a hint of a smile on her face.
The alien bent down to replace the jumpsuit in her treasure box, the longing in her heart quenched for the time being. Then she turned to Jonathan and Helen as if she wanted to tell them something. Her eyes kept darting from one to the other, searching for an answer to an unspoken question, for once frustrated by her lack of words. It took a lot of pointing to the plastic clock on the wall and the to the window for Jonathan to finally understand they were to accompany her the next day for a walk to the other side of the island.

Frieda walked in a hurry, dragging behind her the two confused humans, turning every few seconds to see what was keeping them. They upped their pace, the alien’s excitement slowly engulfing them. They had to get there, wherever that may be.
They passed the few white buildings that dotted the shore where the harbor stood until they reached the small secluded bay, where, when the season came, the turtles would come to lay there eggs.
‘Trust me’, Frieda told them with frantic nods. She had them sit in the sand, next to each other, facing the gray sea, while she stood behind them her hands resting on their shoulders. A sense of happiness was seeping through her little blueish palms, rivulets of warm light coursing down their veins, building into wild springs, bringing down barriers, washing away pains and sorrows.
Frieda raised her head to the sky and started to sing. They knew this from the slight tension in her hands, which gripped their shoulders a bit more firm, for, at first, they didn’t hear anything. The silent alien music. Then a faraway sound, like a soft wind rustling through the trees. The wind grew stronger and the leaves became wind-chimes and sound found it’s rhythm and it was weaved into song. Jonathan and Helen were the first and only humans to hear Frieda’s alien music, but the thought did not even register with their minds, for they were no longer there.

Helen was as beautiful as he remembered her. Helen, as she was that day when he fell in love with her, when they walked in the park, skirting the noisy crowds, hiding in alleyways that led to nowhere, dead-ends where their romance started. Her long hair flowing freely, her eyes shining as she looked at her Jonathan and saw the love blooming in his eyes. The lips he would kiss as they hugged, pressed against the cold stone of a marble angel. The lost angel, they named it, for the statue was lonely and nobody ever came to this alley, overgrown with withered wild rose bushes. Except for lovers, maybe.
It was that Helen he now held in his arms, yet not quite the same. She was light, almost immaterial, though she could feel the warmth of her body pressed to his and the smell of her hair. The Helen he’d never lost and never will, for in this place they’ll always be together. Everything was so bright around them, he couldn’t tell whether they were still on this earth or in a place that lived outside of time and space. And it didn’t matter. That moment he knew that place to be more real than the beach and the island they’d left behind and the sea that kept them apart for so long.
There were no words in that place, only the music of two souls circling each other, drawing closer to drink each other in, stepping back to take each other in, whispering of the realms that were theirs to roam and the eons that were theirs to be together. No walls to keep them apart, no egos to break them apart, no wounds to stop them dead in their tracks before they could find one another. His soul bore no scars left by the angry tears of the rejected child. No need to hide in the ivory tower, no need to crawl under the carapace of the dedicated scientist. Here he was, his soul unbroken like the day he was born.There she was, undamaged by the years of loneliness, her soul still alive and thirsty for love.
Jonathan knew they would have this place forever, his death won’t change anything, he’ll always be there and waiting for Helen won’t matter. There was no time in this place. This place was eternity.

The End (I think)

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