The Jade Notebook

by Laura Resau

  I lie in my hammock, alone, swinging slowly, listening to the waves, watching the stars. It’s late, close to midnight, nearly the end of August second. A year and a day after the handfasting in France. This is the day Wendell and I promised to meet if we want to stay together.

  He’s been gone nearly two months. With every phone conversation and text, I’ve felt our paths diverging farther and farther. He’s caught up with new friends, classes, ideas. Hey Z! Gotta run! More later …, and the later becomes later and later. And there’s not more, but less.

  But it’s not just him. I’ve become absorbed in life here, helping with the cabanas, meeting new guests, hanging out with my cousins and the other bolibolistas, filling up more jade notebooks. It’s the same on my side—Busy now, W! Love you! Thinking about you.…

  And I am thinking about him. But mostly just during the quiet times, and those are few and far between. Sometimes a fleeting sadness overwhelms me unexpectedly, like a wave sneaking up on me from behind. The tears come, and I hold on to that feeling from the jungle, the moment I believed in with my whole heart. The moment I still believe in, even now that our handfasting anniversary has almost come and gone.

  I push the ground with my toe, giving the hammock a fresh swing, and soak in the expanse of stars. Suddenly, it seems unbearably sad that we picked the perfect spot for the handfasting, yet at midnight, it will be empty.

  I sit up. I’ll go alone. It will be just me and the sea turtles, but I’ll be there. I peek at the clock by my bed. Eleven o’clock. There’s still time. I grab a light shawl and head through the jungle toward Playa Mermejita. Emerging from the trees, I see the beach gloriously full of small olive ridley turtles—this season’s species—inching up the beach, at various stages of their journey. I breathe in the salty air, wishing Wendell were here to see this.

  As I weave around the turtles, careful not to disturb their nests, I ponder their journey, the same one their grandmothers took. This beach is a constant in their lives, over so many generations. This beach, in some way, defies the limits of time.

  The moon is nearly full, illuminating the waves, the surf, the determined mass of little shells moving up the beach. I find the spot near the giant log of driftwood where, many months ago, Wendell suggested we renew our handfasting. I sit down on the sand, hugging my knees, grateful for the company of turtles. I wonder if they understand that this journey is just one of many in their lives, in the lives of their ancestors, the lives of their descendants. I wonder if they grasp this miracle.

  Gradually, I sense another presence on the beach. A human presence. Someone is walking toward me, skirting the surf. I watch the figure draw closer and closer. The moonlight bathes him, almost ghostlike. A visitor from my past, or maybe my future, slipping into the present.

  “Wendell?” I call.

  “Zeeta,” he calls back.

  “You came,” I say, my voice breaking.

  And now he’s here, at our spot, our handfasting spot, and I’m staring at him, wondering if he’s real. He leans in, kisses me, wraps his arms around me. “Of course I came.”

  I want to explain to him what I was just thinking—about the turtles, about so many journeys, about glimpsing the sum of all the journeys in our lives. Instead, I kiss him, until he pulls away, sits in front of me on the sand, his eyes on mine.

  “Zeeta,” he murmurs. “I could only come for the weekend. But I needed to tell you something. A vision I had.”

  I close my eyes for a long moment. I’m not ready for more danger. Not after all we’ve been through. “What is it?” I ask under my breath.

  “Something I saw while I was stranded in the ocean. When I thought I was about to die.” He pauses, his eyes growing shiny.

  My muscles taut, I reach out and take his hand. “What did you see?”

  “I saw you and me, Z. Together. You—you had white hair, and wrinkles, but the same eyes. I could tell it was you. You were crouched down, digging in a garden, planting flowers or something, and you looked up at me and smiled.” His voice cracks; his eyes fill with tears. “The way you looked at me—you knew me better than anyone in the world.” He swallows, cups my face with his hand. “We’ll be together at the end of it all, Z. I don’t know how we’ll get there, but we’ll be together.”

  And that’s when, finally, I trust, deep in my bones, that I can let him go completely. He can go to the far reaches of the sea—or wherever life takes him—but he’ll come back. We sit, hand in hand, the miracles of turtles and waves and sky and stars and a zillion grains of sand surrounding us, things you can never quite grasp, things of infinite beauty, pathless mystery, things that are rough yet smooth, simple yet complex, things without end.

  GLOSSARY AND PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

  Since Mexican Spanish has sounds that don’t exist in English, this pronunciation guide is an approximation. Note that the Mexican v is often pronounced as a soft b. The -o/-a ending indicates masculine and feminine genders, respectively.

  abarrotes ah-bah-RROH-tays groceries

  abuelitos ah-bway-LEE-tohs grandparents

  adelante ah-day-LAHN-tay go ahead

  agua de espanto AH-gwa day ays-PAHN-toh “fright water” (a Oaxacan medicinal herbal brew)

  agua de horchata AH-gwa day or-CHAH-tah cinnamon-rice water

  agua de jamaíca AH-gwa day hah-MY-kah hibiscus water

  agua de papaya AH-gwa day pah-PY-ah papaya water

  agua de sandía AH-gwa day sahn-DEE-ah watermelon water

  agua de tamarindo AH-gwa day tah-mah-REEN-doh tamarind water

  amate ah-MAH-tay a kind of tree bark

  aquí ah-KEE here

  así es ah-SEE ays that’s how it is

  ayúdenme ah-YOO-dayn-may help me

  bien padre bee-AYN PAH-dray really cool (slang)

  bolibolístas boh-lee-boh-LEE-stahs volleyball players

  bruja BROO-hah witch

  buena suerte BWAY-nah SWAYRR-tay good luck

  buenas tardes BWAY-nahs TAHRR-days good afternoon

  buenos días BWAY-nohs DEE-ahs good day/good morning

  cabaña cah-BAHN-ya cabin

  cacao cah-CAH-oh cocoa

  cariño cah-REEN-yoh affection

  carnicería carr-nee-say-REE-ah butcher shop

  Castillos cahs-TEE-ohs last name; literally “castles”

  chavos CHAH-vohs guys

  chicos CHEE-cohs kids; guys

  chido/a CHEE-doh/dah cool (slang)

  chiles rellenos CHEE-lays ray-AY-nohs stuffed peppers

  chiquitito chee-kee-TEE-toh very tiny

  Chucho CHOO-choh nickname for Jesús

  claro que sí CLAH-roh kay SEE of course

  cochino coh-CHEE-noh pig

  comal coh-MAHL clay plate for cooking

  compañeros cohm-pahn-YAY-rohs buddies/friends/teammates

  corren COH-rrayn run

  cositas coh-SEE-tahs little things

  Cruz KROOS last name, literally “cross”

  de nada day NAH-dah it was nothing (a response to “thanks”)

  dedo DAY-doh finger

  dígame DEE-gah-may tell me

  Don DOHN Mr./sir (respectful term)

  Doña DOHN-yah Mrs. (respectful term)

  empezemos aym-pay-SAY-mohs let’s begin

  Ernestino ayrr-nays-TEE-noh male name

  espérate ays-PAY-rah-tay wait (a command; informal address)

  espérese ays-PAY-ray-say wait (a command; formal address)

  Gatito gah-TEE-toh Kitty

  Gerardo hay-RAHRR-doh male name

  gracia GRAH-see-ah grace

  gracias GRAH-see-ahs thanks

  grandes amigos GRAHN-days ah-MEE-gohs good friends

  Guadalupe gwah-dah-LOO-pay female name (after the famous Virgin, patron saint of Mexico)

  güey WAY dude, man (slang)

  hasta luego AHS-tah loo-WAY-goh see you later

  hermano ayrr-MAH-noh brother

  hola OH-lah hi

  Horacio or-AH-see-oh male
name

  huevos a la mexicana way-vohs ah lah may-hee-KAH-nah eggs scrambled with peppers, tomatoes, and onions

  huipil WEE-peel traditional native tunic

  incendio een-SAYN-dee-oh fire (in both Spanish and Portuguese)

  Jesús hay-SOOS male name

  José Luís hoh-SAY loo-EES male name

  La Llorona lah yoh-ROH-nah The Weeping Woman (from Mexican folklore)

  Lupita loo-PEE-tah nickname for Guadalupe

  magia del mar MAH-hee-ya dayl MAHRR magic of the sea

  mamá mah-MAH mom

  maravilloso mah-rah-vee-OH-soh wonderful

  Mazunte mah-SOON-tay small town/beach in Oaxaca, Mexico

  Meche MAY-chay woman’s name, nickname for Mercedes

  media naranja MAY-dee-ah nah-RAHN-hah literally “half-orange”;

  slang for “better half,” romantic partner

  mi amor mee ah-MOHRR my love

  mija MEE-hah my daughter (contraction of “mi hija”)

  mijo MEE-hoh my son (contraction of “mi hijo”)

  mis hijos mees EE-hohs my children

  mole MOH-lay traditional Mexican chocolate-chili sauce

  molito moh-LEE-toh affectionate term for mole

  muchacha moo-CHAH-chah young girl

  muchachita moo-chah-CHEE-tah affectionate term for a young girl

  muchachos moo-CHAH-chos kids, guys

  música de rock MOO-see-kah day RROHK rock music

  muy MOOY very

  nada de turistas NAH-dah day too-REES-tahs no tourists

  narcos NAHRR-kohs drug dealers (short for narcotraficantes)

  oiga(n) OY-gah(n) hey; listen (formal/plural)

  oye OH-yay hey; listen (informal, singular)

  palapa pah-LAH-pah open-sided, rustic hut made of natural materials

  papá pah-PAH dad

  Pepe PAY-pay male name, nickname for José

  pipian pee-pee-AHN Mexican sauce made with pumpkin seeds, corn, and chile

  perdón payrr-DOHN pardon me

  pescado a la plancha pays-CAH-doh ah lah PLAHN-cha grilled fish

  picante pero sabroso pee-CAHN-tay PAY-roh sahb-ROH-soh spicy but delicious

  pinche PEEN-chay damn

  Playa Mermejita PLAH-yah mayrr-may-HEE-tah Mermejita Beach, a small beach in Oaxaca

  pobrecita poh-bray-SEE-tah poor little thing

  por favor pohrr fah-VOHRR Please

  pozole poh-SOH-lay stew made from hominy (corn), pork, and chile

  primo/a PREE-moh/mah Cousin

  pues PWAYS well

  Punta Cometa POON-tah coh-MAY-tah Comet Point

  pura POO-rah only, just, pure

  ¿Qué me cuentas? KAY may KWAYN-tahs What’s up?

  qué milagro KAY mee-LAH-groh what a miracle

  ¿Qué onda? KAY OHN-dah What’s up? (slang)

  qué padre KAY PAH-dray how cool

  que te vaya bien kay tay VAH-yah bee-AYN take care (literally, “may it go well with you”)

  ¿Quién es? kee-AYN ays Who is it?

  quién sabe kee-AYN SAH-bay who knows

  rápido RRAH-pee-doh Fast

  Raúl rrah-OOL male name

  Rogelio rroh-HAY-lee-oh male name

  ruda RROO-dah rue—a strong-smelling herb used in Mexican spiritual cleansing rituals

  Santy SAHN-tee male name, nickname for Santiago

  sapo SAH-poh Toad

  se devoran los intrusos say day-VOH-rahn lohs een-TROO-sohs trespassers will be devoured

  se vende mole say VAYN-day MOH-lay mole for sale

  señor sayn-YOHR sir/Mr.

  señora sayn-YOH-rah ma’am/Mrs.

  señorita sayn-yoh-REE-tah Miss

  sí SEE yes

  sobrina soh-BREE-nah niece

  suavecito swah-vay-SEE-toh softly, gently

  telenovela tay-lay-noh-VAY-lah soap opera

  tengan cuidado TAYN-gahn coo-ee-DAH-doh be careful

  territorio prohibido tay-rree-TOH-ree-oh proh-ee-BEE-doh forbidden territory

  todo TOH-doh everything, all

  tortillería tohrr-tee-yay-REE-ah tortilla shop

  tranquilo trahn-KEE-loh calm, tranquil

  vámonos VAH-moh-nohs let’s go

  vato VAH-toh dude, guy, man (sometimes connoting a gang member)

  verdad vayrr-DAHD Truth

  Xochitl SOH-cheel female name

  ¿Ya ves? yah VAYS See?

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Although the locations in the book are real, I took some liberties with details of the landscape and building layout to fit the needs of the fictional story line. If you do visit Mazunte one day, have fun (it’s one of my favorite vacation spots), but don’t be surprised at the tweaking I did!

  LAURA RESAU lived in Oaxaca, Mexico, for two years, teaching English and doing cultural anthropology research. When she is not traveling, she can be found at home in Colorado, writing in her silver trailer and enjoying life with her young son and husband. Laura’s time abroad also inspired her novels What the Moon Saw, available from Yearling, and Red Glass, The Queen of Water, Star in the Forest, The Indigo Notebook, and The Ruby Notebook, all available from Delacorte Press.