Amizade

As the sun rises over the river in the summertime , I often look back and remember those I have known from places long ago and far away. I wonder what happened to them when they became older. Did they fall in love with someone and live happily ever after or did they find happiness in living a life of solitude? Are they alive or did something happen to them along the way. So many questions, sometimes I like to imagine the answers.

Her name was Fernanda Caroline da Silva, her father was American and worked for the Embassy on the island. Her mother was from the islands and her name was Cecilia like the song by Simon&Garfunkel. As with most people from the islands, she had dark hair and light brown skin. We were young when we met, I was nine and she was probably my same age. I had moved there from America, my father worked at the embassy but in a different department. During the summer, people would travel to the beach and cool down from the heat by going into the ocean. I was trying to bodysurf, finding a wave to toss me around until the tidal waters brought me to the sandy shore. While getting back up from a recent attempt at bodysurfing, I noticed her in the distance, near the beach umbrellas and people resting on towels, she was sitting and building a sandcastle with her hands, it was almost finished and seemed intricate. She did not notice me as I walked up to her and said, “ Castelo de areia agradavel!”. She smiled and said, “ Obrigado,” and then in English she added, “ It didn’t take me long to build.” “ You speak English?!” “ Of course, I have been to America few times .” We had a nice conversation about what we like and disliked about the islands. We both agreed there had to be a faster way to deliver movies to the island. By the time they reached the cinema, they were nearly a year old and not new anymore. We chatted about some other things, her mother came over and introduced herself, “ Fernanda, who is your new amiga?” She replied, “ his name is Bert Connor and his family just arrived from America.” My parents were watching this conversation and with a mixture of curiosity and concern, walked over and introduced themselves to my new friend and her mother.

We were packing up, ready to head home after a long day at the beach, we were tired , tanned and slightly sunburned. I was carrying the folding chair and my parents were carrying their belongings. Fernanda’s mother comes running up to us and asks my parents and I a question, “ Fernanda will be heading to America to attend school, she needs to practice her English,. She enjoyed talking with your son and wonders if it would be acceptable for you and him if he can come over to our house?” My parents thought for a minute and my father replied, “ That would be a great idea, my son needs to learn about the Island’s culture and language.” “ Would tomorrow be good for you?” asked Cecilia. “ That would be great!” my mom replied. My parents asked Cecilia to gave them directions to her house which was outside of the city. The next day, we drove to their house along a winding asphalt road. We turned on a dirt road to a two story beige house with red shutters faded by the sun. We pulled into the driveway and stopped the car, the door opens, Fernanda and her family were there to meet us. We walked out of the car and exchanged greetings, my parents seemed happy with the situation and their concern turned to trust . After a few minutes of conversing, they went back to the car and drove away, , coming back in a few hours. Their living room had a couch with a small table on each side holding a lamp , three straw chairs that were placed near the back windows and doors. One had a great view of the palm trees, wild flowers, and the volcanic rocks leading down to the ocean. There was native artwork and statues from the islands and posters from America. There was light blue paint on the walls and a few rugs scattered along the floor. Down the hallway,on the right was the father’s office. On the second floor were two rooms where they slept and spent some of their time. Her Dad smiled and spoke to me, “ Are you familiar with the music of the islands? Cecilia was smiling and Fernanda was beginning to grin. I told him I was not familiar, having recently arrived . He said, “ You would lite it, is a mixture of acoustic guitars, ukulele, clarinet and drums providing a rhythmic beat.” “ Sounds interesting!” “ I have an album of it , will let you hear it, the sound of it will make you dance.” Before we go any further, this was a time of innocence , people did not have ulterior motives . Her parents had the best of intentions, have an enjoyable time and maybe have a great memory. We danced more than we practiced our languages, we were laughing and moving around the floor, up and down. back and forth, no need to learn steps, just having fun. A few hours later, my parents picked me up . On the way home, I was smiling and telling them about how much fun I had dancing to this new music I had heard .

Months pass, we spend more time together , our families went horseback riding at the stables of a nearby ranch. She had a birthday and her family invited me to the party. I asked her parents , “ Should I bring a present?” Due to my small allowance, I could not buy much . Cecilia replied, “ Nada, just bring yourself! She would be glad to see you and introduce you to her friends.” My parents drove me to her house and I am dropped off at the house, I can hear Fernanda’s voice and her guests talking as the door opens and her parents bring me inside. Unfortunately , everyone is speaking Portuguese and nobody is speaking English. Fernanda sees me and tells me to come over and meet her friends. I walk over , feeling nervous, I know only a few Portuguese phrases, the ones I know I sometimes pronounce incorrectly . She gives me a friendly hug and introduces me to her friends. In her native and familiar language, she tells how we met on the beach and later danced to the music. One of her friends asked her, “ Does he dance well? “ Fernanda giggled and said, “ He tried his best, one foot in front of the other, not bad!” They all laughed, I was not sure if they laughing with me or at me. Everyone had presents for her. Some gave shell necklaces, paperback books, faux topaz ring for her finger, kites and I gave her amizade( friendship). After all of her friends had given her presents, her father enters and announces his present. He received a promotion and they will be going to another country, this was not just a birthday party , it was a going away party . Everyone seemed happy and not that surprised, everyone knew except me. An hour later, the party was over, Fernanda thanked me for coming and said we would meet again sometime somewhere . The move happened fast, a few days later they were gone and we never kept in touch .

All this time, I always wondered what happened to her. Two years later, we returned to America, we moved around more times before I left for college and lived on my own. This was before search engines and social media sites, we had no way of knowing where someone lived or what they were doing now. Later when I had a social media account , I reached out to people who lived on the island when I did. Some wrote back and said she died in a car crash, some thought she died in a plane crash on the island. I always assumed the best, with her personality , I thought she might be working for the Island’s tourism industry as a guide or concierge. Since she enjoyed building sandcastles, she might be an engineer designing buildings to withstand catastrophes. As for me, I studied creative writing in college and work at the Colony Hill main library. I was studying at the local bookstore located on Main Street near Essential Records. There was a poster near the front door by the registers, A Carolina Silva will be reading from her recent novel “ Summer In The Islands”. Could it be the same person? She had shorter hair and wore glasses. Her hair color and skin tone were about the same. Carolina Silva would be at the bookstore on a Friday night, I made plans to attend. That Friday, I showed up, chairs were arranged in several lines facing a podium where she would speak. I spent some time looking at travel books and browsing through the mystery section. I heard the announcement over the intercom, “ Carolina Silva is about to speak, please find a seat and listen. “ I made my way to the back row, people were seated around and ahead of me. She speaks info the microphone, “ Thank you for coming , I will read the beginning of my novel. At a beach near the Montanha Verde, I found a friend who gave one of the best memories of when I lived on the island. It brought joy and a great amount of pleasure..” I was so excited, she had to be writing about me. I was so happy, I did not pay much attention to the rest of the story. After she was finished speaking, tho owner of the bookstore guided her to a desk where she would sign books and talk to customers. I was so excited, waiting in the back of the line, it was really her and she remembered me! The line was moving, I was moving closer and closer to her. Then, our eyes met, she looked at me and said “ What is your name?” I said, “ Fernanda, don’t you remember me, I was the friend you met on the beach and we danced at your house?” She looked perplexed and a little uncomfortable. She gained her composure and graciously smiled as she said, “ Not to be rude, you must have me confused with someone else.” It was my turn to feel embarrassed, a few people behind me were getting impatient with me, “ Could you please sign my copy? Sorry for the trouble “. She signed my book and wrote on the blank page before the title page, “ Mi amigo, whoever she was, she must have been a wonderful person.” She handed the book to me and I head home, a mystery unsolved and a memory still remembered.

Sometimes the faces and places are best left to memory where people never change , grow older or pass away. We have these moments of friendship and hope , gives us stories to tell and brings us joy. The awkwardness gives it humor and others can relate by experiencing a similar. situation. Wherever she may be in the world, hope she reads this and is glad I have not forgotten her. Hope this brings back the good memories, amizade.