Shallow Pt. 01

There is a lake right in the middle of the forest with perfect coordinates, like a heart beating and pumping life to the green lushness. I grew up ten miles West from the lake, in a large farmhouse bordering the edge of the forest. I'd go hiking through the forest with my father some of the days but never reached the lake. My father warned me that although the forest was beautiful, it was also dangerous.

Nights I would spend in my bedroom with a mellow lamp covering my walls with an orange hue. And when I'd look outside my window, facing the forest, I could not see anything. Not a single light and only with the moon, I could see the outlines of leaves and branches.

The first time I saw the lake was when my father took me on a birthday hike. Usually our hikes were two hours maximum but on my birthday, we walked two hours into the forest. He told me he had packed lunch for us so we could take a long walk. When I caught a glimpse of the light reflecting off the lake, I thought I was dreaming. I thought someone had put a mirror there at first.

We sat on a large rock adjacent to the lake and he took out two sandwiches, a potato salad, and some tangerines for us to eat.

"You like it?" he asked me.

I nodded. "It's beautiful. Can I swim in it?"

"Yes, I'll help you."

After we were done with our lunch, I took off my clothes, leaving only my underwear on, and I held my father's hands as he stood outside the water and I kicked my feet on the shallow end of the water.

After staying in the water for a bit, I asked my father to pull me up and out. My father then laid on the grass as I lied on the sunny rock to dry off. Soon my father was fast asleep and I was left in the world on my own. On my back, I could hear the water's stream, the birds whispering, the wind picking up, and then suddenly-a high-pitched whistle? I lifted my back off the rock and stared out. On the left side of the lake, I could see a boy with wild and gold hair. I pulled my knees close to my chest and looked to see my father, still resting. The golden-haired boy smiled, showing slightly his one crooked tooth among the others which were perfectly-aligned. I smiled back.

"Who are you?" I said softly.

"Can I come closer?" he asked.

I nodded. He slowly made his way to my rock. Standing in front of me on his knees, he told me, "My name is Jack, what is yours?"

"Maria," I said.

He stayed quiet after I said that and simply stared at me. I felt myself suddenly getting hot. The late-noon sun was beating down on him and I like a spotlight, off-center, next to the lake. I was speechless, as if I had forgotten my lines.

"Maria..." he said. "Where did you come from?"

"From that way." I pointed behind me, "Where do you come from?"

He pointed in the opposite direction. "I have to go now. Can I visit you some time?" He got up before I could say anything. I nodded and he flashed a mouth-shut smile and ran off where he came from.

I lied back down and continued to dry off under the sun.

--------

Night came and after having dinner with my dad, I went to take a shower. My father liked to sleep early so he had sound-proofed his room to the best of his ability using thick glass and by putting foams underneath the door crack. There were no other houses around us but before he had sound-proofed his room, he complained of the loud cries of the grasshoppers at night and sometimes of my feet crossing the wooden floor in my room. His room was on the same floor as mine, but facing the opposite direction towards the dirt road.

By the time I was done with my shower, I was sure he was fast asleep so I got dressed and went downstairs to get my box from the basement. As I placed my box on my mattress, a green light quickly disrupted the orange waterfall on my back wall. Could I have imagined it?

I run towards the window and all I see is black under a moonless sky with a million white specs of stars.

I make sure the window is shut and go sit on my bed. I open up the box of all the things my aunt gave me- a book, pens, pencils, a postcard, and some crayons. It has been a long time since she last visited. She has been visiting for as long as I can remember and always brought gifts with her. When I was younger, my father would make sure to throw the gifts out as soon as she left. I am guessing he asked her to stop coming with gifts because during her last few visits, she would wait until my father went for a nap and she would give a gift to me and whisper:

"I brought you something but make sure not to show your father and hide it well."

The first time she said this to me, she helped me make a hidden hole in the basement, where I put all the things she brought me that time. I am not really sure what happened to her so today as I open up the box of things, I tear up. I am afraid the last time I saw her was the last time I will see her.

I wipe the tears away with my fingers and look up to see that green light again, plastered on the wall to my right. It stays. I walk to the window and on the ground, I see the golden-haired boy looking up at me, waving and smiling. I motion an index finger out to him asking him to wait.

I go down the stairs, making sure not to land hard on my heels. I put on my slippers and turn towards where he is standing. He has his back against the wall and when he sees me, he scratches his forehead and says "hello."

"Hi," I reply.

"Do you remember me?" he asks.

"You mean from today?" I laugh. "Yes, of course."

"How long have you lived here? I don't think I had ever seen you before," he drops the last line more quietly than the question.

"For as long as I can remember. How about you?" I ask him.

"I have been staying here for a couple of months but I was under the impression that not many people lived in this area." He maintains eye contact when he says this, but then as I answer, his eyes wander to the side of the house.

"I guess you would be right," I pause. "I haven't seen anyone but my father in a long time."

"How old are you?" he asks.

"Twenty. You?" I ask.

"Twenty-one." He nods his head.

"I actually turned twenty today," I tell him.

"Uh, happy birthday!"

"Thank you," I smile politely. "Um, how did you find my house?"

"I walked in the direction you pointed. It started to darken as I crossed the forest, but at one point I was able to see the light in your room and considering there are no other houses in this area, I assumed it was you."

"Good thing you were right... would you like to come in?" I ask him.

He nods. I take careful steps toward inside my house. I take off my shoes and he takes off his.

"Bring them up the stairs with you," I whisper.

When we get into my room, I sit on my mattress and he stands in front of the closed door. His skin is bright with sweat and his gray shirt is muddied and looks stiff as if his dry sweat had turned his shirt into a clay figurine.

"You look dirty," I say.

"Yeah, sorry. I haven't had a proper shower for a bit."

"You can take one here," I say.

He clears his throat. "I wouldn't want to wake your dad."

"You wouldn't. He can't hear anything from his bedroom."

"Um, okay. Thank you. I'll take one then."

I go up to my closet and grab an old towel. We open the door and I lead him to the bathroom.

"Oh, clean clothes!" I say. "I have this big shirt you can use, I'll bring it in a bit."

I put the towel on the closed toilet bowl to go find it. When I come back into the bathroom with the shirt, he is still standing there with his back against the wall. I place the shirt on top of the towel. I point out where everything is and turn on the warm water for him.

"Thanks," he tells me.

"Yeah, no problem."

I close the door and I wait for him in my bedroom. I don't know what to really do with myself so I pace around my room and try to think what I'm supposed to do with a visitor. I think back to when my aunt used to come visit and decide to get him a glass of water and crackers from downstairs. His shower is quick and when I come in with the glass and crackers, he is already standing there with wet hair, his shorts, and my shirt.

"Hi," I say. "I brought you this."

We sit on the bed and he drinks from his glass. After gulping down half of his glass, he asks me:

"How come you never decided to move out of here?"

"What do you mean?" I reply.

"I mean, it is pretty isolated here and you're young. Have you ever thought of moving somewhere more... um... lively?"

"Um, I don't really see how I could do that. Besides, what would be so different there?" I pause, hoping that maybe he would answer, although it is rhetorical. "There would just be more people?"

He laughs, "I guess you're right."

"What about you? Why would you come here? Did you come from a lively place?"

"Yeah, I did." He looks down at his glass. "Wanted to try the opposite, be with myself for some time. And after some time here, all I have craved is liveliness- actually, no, not liveliness but company... that's why I'm glad I saw you today. First time I've seen someone in a few weeks."

There is some silence.

"Where do you come from exactly?" I ask him.

"Let me show you." He goes toward his dirty clothes, which he folded and placed on the corner of the room, next to his backpack. He reaches for a small, leather-bound book and opens it up to reach for something. He gives it to me.

It is a photograph of him and an older lady in front of a red-brick, tall house with white-trimmed windows with exterior shutters. They are standing on some washed stairs in front of an oval and gigantic door, almost two times the size of Jack in the photo.

"So, where is this? I mean, what is the name?"

"It's right there," he says and points at the bottom of the picture. I look down at it for a second and nod my head.

"What? You don't know where that is?" he asks, with a slightly teasing tone.

"No, no..." I gulp down and then continue. "I just... I don't know how."

"How? What?" he questions.

"I don't know how to read."

He stays quiet after I say this. Smiles and says nothing. Goes to open his mouth and says nothing. Then decides to say:

"It says Boston. That's my mom and I in the picture."

"Your mom is very beautiful." He nods a thank you. "What is Boston like?"

"It's a city but not big like New York. You know, it's small. Very pretty, walkable. There's a lot of universities and a lot of the people are a bit uptight. But overall, it's beautiful. There's a lot of people living there around our age, you know?" he gives me a tight-lipped smile.

"I see. What is it you're standing in front of in the picture?"

"My childhood home."

"It must be very big."

"Probably half the size of this space. See here and here," he points to the left edge of the staircase and to the right of the second window on the first floor. It is a narrow space. "That is considered one house."

"Oh, I see but it looks very tall."

There is another silence. Am I supposed to fill them in or is he? He catches sight of the shoe box on my bed.

"New shoes?" he asks.

I shake my head.

He goes to open it and finds all of my aunt's presents, he takes out the book and says: "I thought you said you didn't know how to read?" with a grin.

I cut him off, "I don't."

He goes quiet again and looks a bit through the pages.

"Hey Jack," I say.

"Yeah?"

"What does it say in the front of it?"

"Persuasion."