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The first few weeks after the beginning of Miguel’s silence brought rain. The same rain that always seemed to overstay its visit but because of which hair smelt nice; the scent of shampoo being enhanced by the damp air. The copy of the newest book written by your favorite author gathered specks of dust, a slice of lemon dried up and the door stayed open. The way he left it that night.
Miguel O’Hara.
He appeared in your bookstore one afternoon and after wishing you a good day went straight to the bookshelf with classics of world literature. He stood there and browsed through the opus of Francis Scott Fitzgerald for some time before picking up a copy of “The Beautiful and Damned”. The one he chose was a minimalistic paperback edition which perfectly suited his monochromatic outfit that day.
“Would you like anything else, sir?”, you asked.
“No, that would be it. Thank you”, he said as you took the money out of his hand.
“Have a good day”, you said as he walked out of the store.
He would drop by your shop on a weekly basis making you wonder if he knew he could just join the local library and save some money. You didn’t mind, of course, maybe he was just beginning to build his home library and needed all his favorite books in his possession.
He would never say a single word that surpassed the limits of common courtesy and you figured out you shouldn’t bother him with small talk. He was a complete mystery, an enigma that made the little gears inside your head turn. He was like a dash of fresh air in a stuffy room, a familiar face in a faceless crowd, something about his presence made you wish you could peer into his soul. But his dark eyes which would soak up all the light in the room made him seem to be miles away, never actually living in the present moment but stuck in another flow of time. It was a shot in the dark but the way he moved made you think about wounds that one would keep hidden from the world, the wounds that one would lick in the dark, far away from anyone else.
One day he appeared with a bouquet of daisies in his hand.
“All the bright precious things fade so fast… and they don’t come back”, he said as he put the copy of “The Great Gatsby” on the counter.
“I find it interesting that you are holding a bouquet of daisies while quoting a character named after the aforementioned flower”, you smiled as you were sliding the book into a plastic bag.
There was a flicker akin to a tail left behind by a shooting star that ignited in his eyes for a split second.
“I didn’t know you held F. Scott Fitzgerald so close to your heart”, he said as he took the bag out of your hand.
“Let’s just say that I too am yearning for a green light across the bay”, you said with a smile.
That encounter felt completely harmless as all the major catastrophes do.
Casually chatting about the books he would read in his spare time became a new status quo. He would sometimes add crumbs of his personal life into your talks, nothing major but enough to pique your interest. Yet he would always stay just long enough for you to feel that the bond was quietly forming between you two before he would sever it by apologizing for wasting both of your time and leaving the store like a complete stranger once again.
The amount of distance he tried to keep pushed you into thinking that your conversations about books were nothing but small talk. Maybe your wish to get to know that mysterious man got the better of you and you were seeing things that weren’t actually there.
However, no amount of rationalizing could beat one reckless decision.
Sunday afternoons were usually slow when it came to business. Following the hands on the clock made the time pass even slower. Thinking about rewarding yourself with a relaxing bath at the end of a busy week you decided to close early. Upon stepping out and putting the key in a heavy padlock you heard someone approaching you in a hurried step.
“I’m sorry, I was just about to close… you can come again tomorrow morning”, you said in a professional manner, not even raising your gaze to look at the unlucky customer.
“I’ll come back tomorrow then. Sorry for the inconvenience”, his voice halted your action.
“Oh… it’s you. If you urgently need the book you came for I can reopen the store”, you offered.
“No, don’t burden yourself. I’ll just go to the library”, he said.
“Maybe I can lend it to you”, it was like the tie between your mind and your body snapped, it was as if someone was speaking out of you, and at the same time you were in and out of the situation.
“I can’t take a book without paying for it”, he said in a serious tone.
“No, I meant I could lend you my copy of the book. Which one are you looking for?”
“Everything I never told you by Celeste Ng”, he said.
“You’re lucky. I’ve recently got my hands on it. I can lend it to you if you want”
For a moment it seemed he was torn between accepting and declining, maybe even leaning towards declining your solution to his problem.
After a few moments of silence, he simply nodded.
You smiled and put the key to the store in your bag, taking a few steps forward. Upon realizing he was still standing in the same exact spot you turned around and looked at him.
“I'm not going to let you wait in front of a closed bookstore, come with me”, you said.
“I don’t want to disrupt your plans”
“What plans? Falling asleep in front of a TV screen?”, you chuckled.
The moment the corner of his lips curved into a smile burned itself into your mind. It was an ordinary smile of an extraordinary person yet you were sure it would be one of the sights that would flash before your eyes when death takes you by the hand and guides you to the afterlife.
As Miguel made himself comfortable in your armchair and sipped black coffee from your “Shut up I’m reading” mug you browsed through your living room bookshelf searching for the title he needed.
“You know you didn’t have to-“, you cut him off.
“A-ha!”, you exclaimed as you pulled the object you were trying to find from the neatly stacked pile of books.
You walked over to the armchair and laid the book in his hands with pride in your eyes.
“Thank you… enjoy the rest of your day”, he said and stood up.
You glanced at the mug surprised by the speed he had drunk his coffee before seeing him off.
“I’ll return it as soon as I finish it”, he said on your doorstep before you said your goodbyes.
Upon opening the door next morning you were met with a bouquet of flowers. There was no note in sight but upon seeing Celeste Ng’s book left under the bouquet you couldn’t help but smile. Such an honest sign of gratitude made color spread under the skin of your cheeks. Despite his usual reserved attitude he seemed to have a gentle side.
What ensued were carefree days.
Miguel would still drop by your bookstore once or twice a week. He didn’t buy books every time, sometimes he would just keep you company by bringing coffee to your lunch break.
On the weekends the two of you would get some ice cream and sit on the roof of your building talking about literature, movies and music. Over time more serious topics would find their way into your conversation and the more Miguel talked the more and more you would fall for him.
His views were rooted in righteousness, some things must be done whether we liked it or not.
He never spoke much about himself and his experiences yet the way he would express himself only confirmed your theory that he hid the pain under that calm exterior. He didn’t want to open up but the last thing you wanted was to reopen old wounds and upset him so you let him change the subject whenever personal questions got their turn in your conversations.
“Miguel…”, you called out his name one summer night after the curtain of silence had fallen between you.
“Yes?”, he turned his head so he could look into your eyes.
“Thank you for being here”, you said with a smile.
A small smile crept upon his face as he shifted his gaze to the starry night above you. You could hear the faint music coming from the apartment’s window. Miguel stood up and reached out his hand to help you get up. You took it and in a second you were back on your feet.
“Do you want to dance?”, you asked quietly hoping he didn’t hear you as much as hoping he did indeed hear you.
“I don’t dance…”, he said.
“But…”, you looked at him.
“But the night is tender and I might just make an exception”, he said as he put his hand on your waist and brought you closer to him.
Goosebumps formed on the part of skin his fingers touched.
Two bodies moved in the rhythm of slow music, Miguel lead you slowly, gently swaying and spinning you. Your hand felt warm in his, your being safe in his arms.
You couldn’t quite articulate what you were feeling in that moment but you were finding a way to do it.
“Don’t think about it too much…”, he whispered.
The stiffness you felt slowly fizzled out and you felt like you slipped into a pocket universe that consisted of Miguel, you and the stars. You were two galaxies caught up in a transcendental dance. Light years and light years wouldn’t be enough to tell the story of this moment.
The droplets of rain that fell on your face and got tangled into Miguel’s hair only excited your senses further. Miguel’s forehead touched yours as the rain started pattering around you.
Your hand moved from his shoulder to his back as you pulled him into a tighter embrace.
Miguel’s eyes were closed as he rocked you slowly. Something was streaming down his cheek, it could've just been rain but it still made you wonder if he used the rain to disguise his tears.
Suddenly the sky lit up and the sound of thunder tore the sky making you jolt and squeeze his hand.
“No tengas miedo”, he whispered.
By this point, you knew he spoke Spanish either when he was very tired or found himself in dire situations.
“Don’t be scared?”, you smiled as you cupped his cheek.
His eyes opened and he nodded slowly.
You didn’t break eye contact, the two of you were drenched, music stopped long ago yet you were still holding each other.
“Is there anything you want to tell me?”, you whispered.
“I trust you”, he whispered back.
Before you had time to decipher what was said to you his lips grazed yours.
He leaned deeper into the kiss, cupping your cheeks with his hands.
When he detached his lips from yours his eyes stayed soft for a few moments before something dawned upon him.
“I’m sorry… We should probably go back inside”, he said in his usual tone.
“Why are you apologizing, Miguel?”, you asked him as he was walking towards the door.
“This shouldn’t have happened. It was done in the heat of the moment… Just homeless emotions finding temporary shelter… Believe me, you’re better off without me”, he said not turning his back to face you.
“Why wouldn’t you give us a chance?”, you asked as you felt the rain becoming heavier.
“Listen when I am talking to you! You’re better off without me”, he snapped.
“You know what? You act reserved just because someone hurt you and now you won’t let anyone else find a home in your heart!”, you shouted so he could hear you over the sound of rain falling harder and harder.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about so stay out of it”, he said coldly.
“But Miguel, I want to know… I want to help you… you said you trusted me”, your voice descended into a faint whisper.
His lips became one fine line before he walked over to you.
“Help me by staying out of this”, he said sternly before descending the staircase.
Life carried on without Miguel’s presence, yet that rainy night always seemed to sit in the back of your mind. The scenarios of what you could’ve done differently developed in front of your eyes. They refused to give you a moment of peace. When the local theater put up a poster of the play inspired by “The Great Gatsby” your mind went straight to wanting to tell Miguel.
Then the incident hit you and the bad taste on your tongue returned.
You didn’t have his phone number. Even if you had it you were positive that you wouldn’t be able to pluck up enough courage to speak to him. You went over the line and pushed yourself into his personal life trying to find a way over the walls he had built around himself. Those same walls ended up crushing you upon their fall. Thinking about his dark eyes only made a wave of dull pain wash over you. His cold tone pushed itself into your chest and squeezed your heart so hard it burst.
You wished you could see him just one more time. You wish you had the chance to talk openly about your feelings. The ire that you felt after hearing his words formed into sadness over time. Did something in his past scarred him so terribly that he chose the life of a loner?
If he by any stroke of fortune decided to come to you ever again you would welcome him with open arms, accepting that some things were better left unsaid and give him enough time. If he ever wished to talk about it you would be there to listen.
But Miguel was nowhere to be found.
Waiting for him to appear in your bookstore made days drag on, the lack of customers meant that your mind could torment you for more extended periods of time. No matter which technique you tried, your mind just wouldn’t let go.
Memories with Miguel would stay neatly folded in your mind even though they carried some sort of sad magic with them, forever reminding you of the ephemerality of human connections.
The doorbell rang and derailed your train of thought.
You rinsed the soap off of your hands, took a drop or two of lavender lotion you kept by the kitchen sink and while still spreading it over the skin of your hands you opened the door.
Thinking it must be one of those door-to-door salesmen you already prepared the same old speech about not needing the offered product. But upon finally looking at the figure standing on your doorstep you completely froze.
“Hello”, he said in his usual tone.
But his eyes told a completely different story. There was a flicker of something new in them.
“Hi…”, you said it back.
“Can I come in?”, he asked.
“Of course”, you said briefly before stepping away from the door to let him come inside.
You closed the door behind him and followed him into your living room.
The shock that became the master of your mind gave up its position to wonder and quiet bliss.
“Would you like some coffee?”, you offered as he sat at the armchair's edge.
“I’d rather tell you why I came here first”, he said.
“Of course”, you said and sat on the couch.
A few moments of silence passed and your anticipation made you impatient. Such a serious tone indicated he planned to bring something important to the table. Whether it was a positive or a negative thing was completely up to him, there was no use worrying about it before he spoke.
“You know the loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart and all they can do is stare blankly”, he sighed.
You gave him more time.
“I didn’t give you… I didn’t give us a chance not because you are not worthy of my time or because I don’t see us together… I played God and the consequence of my action was losing everything I ever loved. I don’t have the luxury of opening my heart and letting someone inside just to lose again. I’ve been through it all and carrying this burden of all the lives I’ve shattered will never become easier. I don’t want you to waste your heart on someone whose wounds will never heal. I don’t want you to waste your time with someone who will never be able to give you his whole being. So… please understand… you are better off without me. I just came to give you a proper goodbye and to apologize for my behavior that day”, he ended his monologue.
The whole time he was talking he made sure to maintain eye contact, only breaking it at the end of the last sentence.
“Miguel-“, he cut you off.
“Don’t apologize to me for being wrong about the reasoning behind my behavior that night. I didn’t take any offence. You were working with the information I had given you. Just please… if you ever held me close to your heart… forget me”, his voice descended into a whisper.
You stood up from the couch you’d been sitting on and took a few steps towards the armchair. You knelt beside it and took his hand in yours.
“Miguel… do you realize you are just going through emotions that are ultimately a part of human experience?”, you asked in a hushed voice.
“You don’t deserve damaged goods… I am a shell of what I used to be, broken beyond repair”, he said and averted his gaze.
“Miguel, look at me”, you cupped his cheek.
His dark eyes were heavy with sadness, his demons eating away at his heart.
“Listen to me… you paid the price of your sins. You don’t need to torture yourself any further. I don’t care about Miguel from that time. I care about the one sitting in front of me. I care about this righteous, gentle and above all good man. Give yourself the liberty of loving and being loved. You’ll be alright again. I am not here to fix you… I am here to help you see that no matter how hurt you are love will mend your soul”, you said.
He put his hand over yours and sighed.
“Even if we were both blind, even if you were deaf and I was mute we would find a way to recognize each other in this valley of tears”, you ended your message on that note.
His eyelids fell over his eyes and his breathing became heavy.
A single transparent marble slid down his cheek. Before it could drop from his face you wiped it with your thumb.
He wanted to say so many things but his voice failed him. He kissed your fingers tenderly before planting a kiss on your forehead and finally, finally giving you a proper kiss.
“You will never be alone in this again… It’s not really a burden if you have someone to take half of it”, you said with a gentle smile.
He let himself slip from the armchair onto to the floor next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.
“Thank you for not letting me go…”, he said as he kissed you again.
Miguel O’Hara…
An enigma finally solved… an emotionally bare heart finally finding its home and a restless mind finally knowing peace.