AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Dale,let’s go.” He grasps my hand, our fingers intertwining, and starts walking toward the far end of the lot where a blue and white sign with a lighthouse begins appearing. The sign is wedged between utility poles adorned with marine rope and sprawled across the center are the words Cape Florida Lighthouse.
We walk through the gate and as we turn the corner of the tiled pathway Amaury stops so I can take the sight in. Tall skinny palm trees line the stone walkway on each side, standing over twenty feet tall with the palm fronds swaying from the breeze coming off the ocean. At the far end is an old eloquent white stone lighthouse, the top of it black, a stark contrast to the clear blue sky surrounding it.
“Wow,” I whisper. “It’s incredible. I never would’ve imagined this great towering structure being here.”
“Ya sabeswhat I felt when I saw it the first time.”
I raise my eyes to meet Amaury’s. “I will never know what you felt, no matter how much I would like to. You spent four days in the open water and risked your life, hoping and praying to reach land. Seeing this lighthouse after your journey is a feeling you can’t replicate. No matter how you describe it, words will never do it justice.”
“A lo mejor,” he responds, a meager attempt to downplay my words.
We continue down the path toward the lighthouse and when we’re standing on the bricks at the foot of it, we stop to take in the surroundings. The tall white brick structure towers over us, the Atlantic Ocean its backdrop, a jetty to the left and a walkway to the right leading to the keeper’s cottage.
“Do you come here a lot?”
His shoulder rises. “I like riding my motorcycle here and sittingen el malecón.” He points to the low sea wall. “It’s no the same asLa Habana,pero en los díasqueI miss homey mi familia, you find me here,” he finishes, his tone softens as he tells me this is the place he comes to on the days he misses his family.
He grasps my hand again and we stroll behind a group of people. At the end of the path is the keeper’s cottage and we stroll to the left, past a bench. Amaury sits on the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest so his feet can rest on the edge of the cement, and I do the same. The water beneath is relatively calm and seaweed gathers at the wall’s edge.
He’s quiet, lost in his surroundings and thoughts and I don’t want to intrude. He tends to do this a lot, usually when we’re near the water, which seems to be often, both of us lovers of the ocean.
I can’t help but think how different from Carmine he is. Carmine was impulsive, loud, and rarely listened to what I had to say. When I think back on his behavior, he was often condescending and belittled me. I still question how I was able to ignore what was in plain sight.
Amaury is forthright but his assertiveness isn’t obnoxious or overwhelming. In fact, it’s the complete opposite because he has a calm demeanor. He’s always observing those around him, listening to what’s happening and taking it all in.
“I talked with my father this morning for the first time in more than a month,” Amaury says, interrupting my thoughts. “He told me he’s sick, needs surgery.”
“Oh.” I shift to look at him. “For what? Will he be okay?”
“Remove a part of his prostate, and I hope so.”
“I wanted to cheer him up so I told him about you and he’s happy for me. Says he wishes he could meet you because you sound incredible.” Amaury drags his finger along my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. “When I talk with him, I miss him. Coming here I feel closer to him.” His shoulders slump and he shifts to adjust how he’s sitting.
My heart thumps in my chest at Amaury’s confession yet I also feel sad because he can’t see his family. I stretch my hand in search of his, curling my fingers with his, and squeeze. I don’t know what to say to him but want him to know I’m here for him. We sit in silence, enjoying the sounds of the ocean.
“No way!Va llover,” Amaury says, breaking the silence.
“What do you mean it’s gonna rain, the skies are clear and blue,” I say, looking up at the cloudless sky.
Pointing to our right, he says, “There, see those clouds?Eso es una tormenta, heavy rain and it’s coming quick.”
“How do you know it’s a storm?”
He shrugs. “Here in Miamies comúnbecausees un clima tropicaland there is always rain like that here.” It’s weird to me because where we’re sitting right now there are clear blue skies but not too far from the shore the dark and ominous clouds are moving toward us. I’ve never experienced tropical weather, as Amaury calls it, where you watch the storm clouds move in. Quite different from the blanket rain we would get in New England.
The wind gusts and when I look up, the blue skies have mostly disappeared behind the black clouds rolling in, the rumbling of the impending storm becoming louder. “We should probably go, it’s gonna rain any minute now,” I say.
Amaury hops to his feet and gazes at the sky. “I no think we’ll make it without getting rained on. We might have to wait until it passes.”
Hand in hand, we follow the small group of people toward the exit. About halfway down the stone walkway the sky opens up, and heavy rain begins to fall. Thunder crashes as a torrent of water continues to stream from the sky. I’m soaked and starting to feel cold from being wet, my bra now visible through my white tank top.
When we’re underneath the shelter at the entrance to the lighthouse, Amaury asks, “Are you cold?”
“A little.” I rub my arms to try to warm up.
“I know,tienes los pezones duros,” he whispers into my ear. My eyes drop and sure enough my nipples have hardened and are visible through my bra and tank top. I feel heat rising to my cheeks and cross my arms over my chest. Amaury wraps me in his embrace, and I rest my chin on his shoulder.
When the rain passes, we sprint to the motorcycle to gear up and ride home. The parking lot is nearly empty except for Amaury’s bike and a few scattered vehicles. I unbuckle my helmet from the bike when I hear, “Sol.”
