"My brother did this weird thing with turtles. When we were growing up he would walk down to the bay, sandals flapping on the sun-baked clay at the side of the road. When we arrived I would lie on the beach, the soft sand between my toes and stare up at the sky watching the seagulls swoop and scream. I always wished I could fly in that squawking flock but my brother would be straight in the water. He'd swim out like a dolphin, back arching gracefully above the waves before disappearing below. I became curious as time passed, as to what he was doing out there in the aqua-blue."
"So one day I grabbed our dad’s goggles and followed him out. I had always been nervous of the sea, where we lived in Belize the sharks were plentiful, also there were lion fish and stingray. As I swam up to where he had disappeared beneath the waves I saw a curious thing, my brother was flitting about over the sand from patch of green, to patch of green gathering up handfuls of seagrass. Following, was a slow train of turtles which caught up to him as he stopped and settled in a line in the sand. He was feeding them in turn from the gathered pile of seagrass heaped before him. It was the most curious sight, tufts of sea grass sticking out from his trunks where he had stuffed it for storage, with a mountain of luminescent green grass shining in the stippled sun, as the turtles, with their quiet eyes, ate from his hands."
She found a diamond bracelet in the back of the car. Buried in the blue bag with the green handles, that she had packed last night for their trip down to visit Luca’s parents. God, she hated that bag. They had bought it on a previous trip to Barbados from one of the tacky tourist stalls. Luca had always been a sucker for a street vendor, he would look at me with those pitying eyes, indicating with the nod of his head that he wanted to help the guy out by buying some of his tat. Oh well, she thought, I guess that's why I love him.
As she opened the box she saw the note, 'to my darling wife, I hope?' Her head spun, she remembered the little shop they had visited when visiting her mother in DC, the bracelet/ring combo. That ring with its sea-green emerald set in patterned gold beveled with an Aztec design that faded into the lustre of the metal. The bracelet mirrored the design and as she stared down at it she wondered, where was the ring?
That weekend in Sarteneja Luca told me the story about his brother. We walked down the white sand of the beach near to his parent's house. The moon was high in the sky creating crystal flecks on the tiny crests of the lapping waves. The murmur of their ripple blended with the chirrups of night insects and the distant roar of the reef.
"Well, as is clear Mi alma, I never got to fly with the seagulls but my brother Ande did get to swim with the turtles. One day, he was feeding his friends when we felt a low shudder that made the water moan and grumble. I was floating on the surface watching Ande as my mother had told me. I had lost my fear of the sea and loved watching Ande, my little brother, so happy with his friends."
"The sun warmed my back and every now and then I would dive down to join them, swimming around the turtles that had become so used to us, the little sea grass farmers. By this time, Ande could hold his breath for 3 or 4 minutes, he'd just dart back to the surface for a second to gulp a breath before sinking like a stone to sit cross-legged in the same spot and resume his feeding."
"The sea rumbled again and this time it was like a vacuum was sucking at us, or like that feeling when you put your hand over the plug hole. I motioned back to the beach, as I began to fight the mounting current, but Ande just sat as if in a spell as the current drew him out into the blue with the turtles bobbing frantically around him. I remember his eyes! They just stared at me, shining golden glints of sun as he faded into the deep. I struggled but finally made the beach as the water started to rip out of the bay, draining like someone had pulled the plug on the sea."
A tear-stained his eye as I looked up at him and my heart shattered.
"I cried and cried and cried. My sorrow was an ocean that would never drain, the tsunami had taken my soul, my little brother Ande. My parents told me that he was a turtle now. The sea had heard his pleas, read his dreams and transformed him. They told me that same story night after night, eyes soft, moist and desperate. How else would he have been able to hold his breath for so long, they said."
Luca's words choked out in the sigh of the tide. As I looked at him I knew I loved him. I knew I would say yes!
The quiet breeze tickled the trees as the moon shone down on us. I stared out to sea as I held him in wracks of sobs. A shuffle at the tide line brought us both back to the moment.
We watched in wonder as a low shape struggled over the sand. Flippers scrabbled for purchase and the moon shone on a mottled shell, patterned with welts of sunbursts as if reflected through ocean currents. The turtle’s sad eyes watched the moon wane, timeless in reflection as Luca pulled a small box from his pocket.
The end.
This post is in response to @mariannewest weekend 3 prompt freewrite challenge which can be found here. I have to admit to cheating a tiny bit. I changed the final sentance prompt of That weekend in Duluth to That weekend in Sarteneja to fit in with the story I had constructed up until that point. I knew where the story was heading and it wasn't to Minnesota unfortunetly. I hope I am forgiven for this minor deviation. All pictures are from unsplash.com free to use. Image 1 credit to the photographer Scott Ruzzene. Image 2 credit to the photographer Jake Kokot. Please follow links to verify.
