Lyrical Lights

by Maria La Serra

  Shortly after Mable confronted me about being in L.A. with Vanessa, she realized she didn’t want to continue the relationship. I was heartbroken, but I had to respect what she wanted.

  She went right; I went left.

  I’d kept myself busy with work, but the pain of not having Mable beside me didn’t go away. I guessed it was necessary for people to feel broken up because it only made things more meaningful. I’d earned that pain, felt deeply for another, and for me, a life with zero meaning was not a life well lived.

  There was stuff between us left unsaid, but I had gotten closure when I saw her in Africa five months ago. We were both sent from Humanity Matters on a mission to Rwanda. The organization was there to help drill a borehole in a rural community, and we wanted to be a part of that. Initially, the plan was to do it together, before everything blew up in my face. I was relieved to find out that Mable didn’t opt out, which was a good sign that she didn’t hate my guts. I was man enough to own up to it even though at the time I felt I had done nothing wrong. I should have never hidden it from Mable, made her think I didn’t trust enough for her to understand. I was an idiot; the fear of losing her was what had cost me the most important thing in my life. Yet I needed to forgive myself for that, too, because Mable was the one who showed me you can’t slosh around in regret. Regret was nothing more than being a goldfish in a bowl with nowhere to go. I had to accept it for what it was if I wanted to move forward, and I was ready.

  I had arrived in Rwanda a day before Mable, and I could have sworn I felt her presence before I caught sight. I found her outside, standing next to a black Jeep, sliding on a gray backpack. My eyes drank her up like a man who was lost out in the desert, suspecting what was in front of him a mirage, but she wasn’t a ghost … just my Aphrodite. She wore a baseball cap, and only a tail of her golden braid came around her left shoulder. The last time we had spoken, she had asked me to give her some space, but yet here I was, walking straight for Mable, shortening the air between us. I couldn’t help it. It was like a natural reflex. The heart never forgets home. Mable had said something to her driver before slightly turning, and I caught her attention. She took a step back and considered me. I didn’t know how long we stood there, looking at each other in silence, like we wanted to read each other’s minds.

  What was she longing for? What was I?

  “I hope you will make yourself useful this week,” I spoke out, inching up closer until she was looking up at me.

  “Uh-huh. But you should worry about yourself, Mr. Rowe.” She narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here, gawking, when you should be out there working?” Her eyes were lit up like two bright stars. I didn’t realize how much I had missed looking into them until now.

  “Gawking?” I stifled a laugh. “Don’t think because you’re a girl, I will go easy on you. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t imagine it any other way.” She flaunted a bicep that peeked from her green T-shirt. The words Humanity Matters Rwanda were printed across her chest.

  “That’s impressive, but you think you can keep up with me?” I knew what to expect, since this was my third mission trip, and it was Mable’s first. This was nowhere near the lifestyle or comforts she was used to, because we were to eat and sleep like everyone else in this community. But, knowing Mable, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “You know I can, Walter.” She coyly cast a look before walking away.

  “Hey … I thought I told you what I’d do if you called me by my middle name.”

  “Oh, I remember.” She slightly turned and flashed a knowing smile—a smile only meant for me. And there it was, like nothing had changed—only she wasn’t mine. I didn’t know how many times I had to remind myself that. But I had come to realize that no matter, how much we loved each other, we couldn’t seem to repair what was broken between us. Then again, maybe we were too stubborn to admit that we wanted things to go back the way they were.

  We had spent two weeks together. We were never alone except for the few days before Mable left. I took her on a road trip to see Lake Kivu, wanting to get shots of the scenery and possibly to talk.

  “Um? What do you mean—exploding lake?” She cast a worrisome look from the passenger seat.

  “Yeah, it’s susceptible to underwater eruptions because of the volcanoes and the anaerobic bacteria in the water. But I promise you it’s perfectly safe.” I grinned.

  “Okay, sure, why don’t you endanger my life.” She pushed strands of hair away from her face.

  “No worries, love. They extract the methane gas from the lake and use it as a power source that provides electricity in the region, so it elevates the possibility of explosions happening.”

  “Geez … that sounds reassuring.” She lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head.

  “Trust me, I would never put you in any danger. I would protect you with my life.”

  “I know,” she murmured, looking far off in the distance.

  I placed one hand on the outside of the Jeep door, the other on the steering wheel. That way I could contain my fingers from going anywhere they shouldn’t, like her knee or her thigh. She was wearing a pair of navy-blue linen shorts, but I couldn’t stop imagining touching her soft skin again.

  “Pretty cool,” she said, looking out the open window. “I can’t believe I’m here. It’s so strange, isn’t it?” She shifted in her seat to get a good look at me.

  “What is?”

  “You and me … together … again.”

  “When I first found out we would make this trip together, it crossed my mind it would be awkward, but being around you—this thing between us is the most natural thing I ever felt,” I said, giving her a quick glance. “It’s good to be us, for a little while.” I was relieved that my eyes hid behind my aviator sunglasses, shielding her from the downcast air behind them.

  “What’s next for you? After this, I mean?” she asked, playing with the hem of her white cotton shirt. “Back to New York?”

  “New York? Nah, you know me. I feel like I outgrew the city. Especially when you come back from a place like this, witnessing a paradise attached with a horrific history. It changes me every time I leave this place. You know, Rwanda goes beyond gorillas or genocide. These people are the simplest kind you’ll ever meet, so inspiring. They have so little, and yet they find joy in the simplest things and draw hope from the darkest shadows. It puts your whole life into perspective.” My gaze flicked down at Mable as more strands of hair came loose from her messy bun. “I’m thinking …” I watched her from the corner of my eyes, hanging on to every word. “I’m going to stay back.”

  “You’re considering … living here?” Her voice went up at the end.

  “Yeah, nah … Yeah, maybe … just for a while. Besides, I have nothing waiting for me in New York,” I said, not wishing it to be hurtful. But honestly, I didn’t see the point in going back without Mable. It was hard living in the same city knowing she’d never come back. When I had Mable, I had everything.

  So what do you do when you lose everything? I figured this was a good way to distance myself—a clean slate, even if it would only be for a short time.

  “What about your sister? Or work?” She kept her tone level, but her body language disclosed something else. She didn’t seem too pleased with my answer, and it made me wonder if she still felt something for me. I had hoped my intuition was accurate.

  “Yeah … my sister … sure, but you know she has her family, and I can fly to see them anytime. My job, well, I can be wherever I need to be,” I said, and her expression dropped. “I’m working on a project right now, collaborating with Humanity Matters on the world’s most troubled areas and the issues the people face today.”

  She turned away from me, gazing out the side window. “Troubled areas?” Her voice came out uneasily, the same way my sister’s had when I had first mentioned it to her. “Will you be putting yourself in any danger, Simon?” I felt her eyes on me, but I kep
t mine on the twisting road ahead.

  “Hmm … possibly.” I twitched in my seat. “But I won’t be traveling alone. There will be a guide and a journalist who’s a friend of mine.”

  “Now you’re making me worry … Where exactly are you planning to go?” I loved that her tone was assertive.

  “There’s nothing to worry about.” I glanced over, and from the looks of it, she didn’t believe a word.

  “Simon … Foreigners are kidnapped all the time and held for ransom. The majority don’t make it out alive … And what about the airstrikes? Why would you put yourself at risk … put your family and me through something like that?”

  “Don’t forget I’ve done this before.”

  “No. Not like this—it’s just freaking dangerous.” Her voice came out louder. I hated that I had caused her some stress, but it was my life.

  “Look, to be honest, I haven’t quite mapped things out just yet. I can’t jump into a project without getting a feeling of my surroundings and the subjects I’ll be covering.”

  “And you’ll be covering war?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “I know you, Simon.”

  “Relax. Right now I’ll start here and work my way around. Maybe I’ll be covering the effects of war; mostly I’ll shoot the refugee camps.” I watched her sit there quietly. “Someone needs to tell their story, Mable.”

  “But at what cost? Your life? You have a suitable career waiting for you in New York,” she said, but deep down I knew she understood, or else she wouldn’t be here, far from her cocooned life. Mable didn’t want me to do this because she had a set of alternative motives, and I couldn’t love her more for it.

  “Mable, the people in the camps don’t want to live in those kinds of conditions, but they have no choice. They are trying to flee their homes because they are not extremists. They’re decent people who just strive for the same things we all want out of life: a roof over our heads and for our family to be safe. And yet they go on days and days with nothing to feed their children. I have no kids, but I could imagine it’s absolute fucking heartbreaking as a parent to watch your kids starve to death. Nobody should have to go through that.” I watched as her eyes turned down. I knew she was trying hard to get me. “I need to be there.”

  “And what do you think pictures will do?” Mable asked.

  “I’m hoping it will get the attention of lawmakers, get people proactive. It isn’t right for me to just stand back and do nothing. These people deserve for the world to know their stories.”

  “I know. I know—okay.” Her voice came out in a somber tone. “You have to do this. It only reinforces what I always believed you were—a man with a good heart. God, I love that heart … But it also means you give too much—help too much, and that’s what gets you into trouble, Simon.”

  She shut her eyes to bar me from her pain. I was expecting at some point for Vanessa to come into the light, like some barricade that had stood between us all these months. When she reopened her eyes, I saw it. That was the sad part about love: it broke you into small pieces, but no matter what, those pieces would always be bound to something else, preventing you from becoming whole again.

  “I want you safe because … God, I don’t know what I’ll do if I ever lose you,” Mable whispered.

  My stomach dropped. “You still care about me?”

  She sighed before continuing. “You know I do. You’re my friend.”

  I didn’t know what kind of answer I expected, but something about the word friend had me rattled. I didn’t let it show.

  “What about you? Are you going home after this?” I asked, after we shared a long moment of silence between us.

  “Um, well I’m embarrassed to tell you after what you said. I’m headed to Italy after this.”

  “Italy?”

  “Bruno has invited me to stay at his house … on Lake Como.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “When you say it like that … it sounds condescending,” she said, annoyed.

  “Look, I didn’t mean it to sound like anything …” I wasn’t jealous. It was known that Bruno Ortiz had a partner who was also his business associate, Jonathan Riley. Maybe it came out sounding a little funny, because somewhere down deep I had hoped she would stay back a while longer. Stay with me, but I had no plausible reason for that idea to even cross my mind. She had moved on and had every right to.

  “To be honest, I feel guilty staying in some mansion for two weeks, after leaving from here.”

  “You shouldn’t feel guilty. Life is not about having more or less than anyone else. It’s about having empathy toward others, and if you should have a little more on your plate, then share it, and if you have slightly less—than share it too. My dad once told me that in life you have to be of use to someone,” I said. She looked at me with interest, and I thought, God, she’s beautiful. “I guess when you’re young, you think you’re entitled to something—but the world owes us nothing. And so when we allow ourselves to only take—that’s when things get ugly. I’m not worried about you, Mable. You’re here doing your part in trying to make someone else’s life better. That’s how the world should work, but unfortunately, it doesn’t always turn out that way.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I’m always right.” I flashed her a coy smile.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot that about you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your occasional cockiness,” she said.

  I laughed. “Have you missed me?”

  She didn’t hesitate before answering. “Always. I miss talking to you. You have a way of making me feel … ordinary.” She smiled.

  But she wasn’t ordinary, not to me.

  “So I guess … it will be awhile before we see each other,” I said.

  “It seems like it.” Her voice was heavy with dolefulness.

  I glanced at her, but she slid down her sunglasses as though she didn’t want me to witness what her eyes were saying. I read her well, and she knew that. Yeah—I was going to fucking miss her too.

  After an hour, we made our way to the town of Kibuye, an area that had seen horrific brutality firsthand, and there on top of the hill we came to Saint Jean Catholic Church, which was also Kibuye’s genocide memorial for the people who had died. I watched Mable as she stood in front of a display of the skulls of some of the victims, just underneath the words Never Again in bold purple letters.

  “Are you religious, Simon?” She looked up at me. It was funny; we had never spoken about our views on religion. I guessed we were too busy creating our own divinity.

  “Religious? Not really … More spiritual than anything else, I guess. I’m curious about other religions, cultures, but that’s the extent of it.” I brushed her hair behind her ear. “But when you see something like this, it makes you wonder whether beliefs lie, or if they hold any truth to anything.” I cast my eyes around. “They all came here to take refuge from the violence, thinking they were safe. How does a house of worship become an extermination center? Children … women and men … they had no chance,” I said, and her eyes caught mine.

  “You feel it, don’t you? In the air … the sadness,” she said. “It’s so heartbreaking. How can anyone be capable of such a thing?”

  “Only men can be made into monsters,” I told her.

  We continued our road trip through Rwanda’s countryside, with the window down, passing the breathtaking view of the green slopes. Mable peered her head out of the open window, allowing the air to brush her face. When she settled further into her seat, she flashed me a smile, the first since we’d gotten back into the Jeep. She had been silent after we left the memorial.

  “What?” I felt her eyes burning into my skin.

  “Am I making you feel uncomfortable?” At some point she had lost her elastic; her hair was picking up air. Christ, she was beautiful.

  “Nah … You make me feel many things, but uneasy is never one of them.” I cast a quick glance, and she shoo
k her head, but at least she was still smiling. “What are you thinking?”

  She was quiet, and my inquiring mind wanted to know. I glanced in her direction, then back on the road.

  “Oh, you don’t want to know,” Mable said.

  “Huh.” I flashed her a knowing grin.

  “No …” She lifted her pointer finger into the air. “Get your head out of the gutter, Mr. Rowe,” she said, reading my mind.

  “It’s always been terrific in the sheets with us; I wouldn’t blame you if you were,” I said.

  Mable shook her head at me, her lips expressing amusement. She knew I was right.

  “I know now why I’ve been avoiding you,” Mable said, and I glanced back. She was now looking out her window.

  “Have you’ve been avoiding me?” I frowned.

  “Intentionally, yes. Haven’t you noticed? I’ve stopped going to functions because I thought you might be there.” She sighed. “I didn’t have the heart to face you.”

  “But you followed through with this trip knowing I was here? And I’m offended, by the way,” I said.

  “Honestly, I thought for sure you weren’t coming.”

  “You’ve been misinformed. Where have you been getting your information?” I looked in the rear-view mirror before casting my eyes back on the road.

  “Noah … I thought he was looking out for my best interests.”

  “Ah …” Maybe he was.