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“Hey, guapito, I saw a weird tree today.”
For some reason, that’s how Cellbit decides to open up the conversation. He’s in his kitchen, struggling to pour flour into a bowl for a cake, his communicator set on the side of the sink. Richarlyson is with Pac and Fit today so Cellbit is alone in the castle.
Flour puffs up in a great cloud as Cellbit pours in the correct amount a little too aggressively. It covers his arms in a thin layer of powder that he easily brushes off before he reaches for the salt and baking soda. He probably shouldn’t be baking alone.
“It was, like, this old tree that was half rotten and half alive,” Cellbit says with a laugh. “It made me think of you. What would you have said to it? ‘Qué verga’ or—this would have sounded more like you— ’no mames, cabrón!’ Is that it?” He chuckles to himself and dusts off his hands.
Outside, a bird lands on his balcony and tweets at him. He tosses the bird a raspberry sitting on his counter then turns his attention back to his communicator.
“Anyways, where are you? You haven’t been home for a while,” Cellbit asks as he mixes the wet ingredients of the cake.
Through the loud whirring of his stand mixer, Cellbit can’t hear Roier’s response. When he stops the machine, he asks Roier to repeat what he said, but Roier has gone silent again.
Cellbit shrugs. “Ah– Either way, it’s okay, guapito. Do what you gotta do. I’ll be here waiting for you. Tell me if anything interesting happens.”
The bird on his balcony has flown off after having its fill, and Cellbit smiles to himself as he bids his goodbye and hangs up. When Roier is back, he’ll have a nice raspberry cake waiting for him in the fridge. Cellbit can’t wait to share it with him. Maybe Richarlyson will be around then, too.
Wordlessly, Cellbit continues his baking as he hums to himself.
Today is a quiet day, Cellbit thinks as he picks out coffee beans for his morning coffee.
It’s early morning, and Richarlyson is by his side, goofing around instead of helping Cellbit harvest the coffee for their daily tradition. Both of their hands are covered in dirt and other plant substances, but Cellbit feels at peace.
It would have been nice to have Roier here, too, but Roier is busy these days it seems.
Something buzzes by Cellbit and lands square on the back of his fingerless gloves. He blinks owlishly at it for a moment; it’s a spotless ladybug. Instantly, his overactive mind begins to search for the meaning of such a mundane occurrence or its symbolism. He doesn’t get much of a chance to think because Richarlyson is already pouncing on his hand to catch the ladybug.
“It has no spots!” Richarlyson exclaims in surprise when he slightly opens his hands to look at the bug.
Smiling at his son’s cheeriness, Cellbit replies, “It doesn’t. It’s called a spotless ladybug, Richas. Usually, ladybugs are good luck, but this one means—” He pauses, hesitates, and racks his brain for the correct symbolism. He draws a blank. “Sorry, I don’t remember. I’m sure if you ask Dapper, he’ll tell you.”
Despite Cellbit’s doubt, Richarlyson grins back brightly, just pleased that he caught something interesting.
Grunting as he rises from the garden, his knees aching, Cellbit motions to Richarlyson to follow him back into the castle, finished with their coffee bean harvest of the week. Eagerly, his son picks up the basket full of beans and lopes after Cellbit who has already made his way halfway up the hill.
“Where is Pai Roier?” Richarlyson suddenly asks as he follows Cellbit back up the elevator and into the kitchen.
“I’m not sure,” Cellbit replies as he prepares the beans for consumption. He tosses them in the furnace for a little while, just to roast them, sets a timer, and leans against the counter as he looks at Richarlyson. “I think your Pai Roier has just been sleepy somewhere, Richas. He’ll be back soon.”
Obviously, Richarlyson doesn’t seem completely satisfied by this answer, but he still politely sits on the kitchen chair and kicks his feet impatiently for the coffee. Cellbit can tell that he has too much energy that he needs to spend, so he rolls his eyes lightheartedly.
“Vá para fora, Richas,” he instructs his son. “Go play outside. I’ll call you back when it’s ready.”
Richarlyson doesn’t need to be told twice. He jumps out of his seat, and Cellbit only has a second to remind him to put on his armour before he leaps out of the kitchen’s balcony, much to his father’s disapproval. Cellbit thinks he’s gone to play with the bulls that err the perimeter of the castle. It’s fine though; Richarlyson had his armour on when he jumped, or he would have been instantly downed from the fall.
Sighing, Cellbit turns back to the oven.
Where is Roier?
His fingers end up dialling Roier again. As soon as he hears Roier’s faint voice, he starts talking.
“Ola, guapito. I hope you’re doing okay. Richas was asking where you are,” he murmurs and leans down to check on the beans. “We just finished our weekly harvest of coffee beans. There was a lot this time! It’ll probably last us a little bit more than a week, but that’s the bright side, right?” Cellbit chuckles.
As he talks, he paces around the kitchen, picking up little gadgets here and there, just to have something to fidget with. He tells Roier about his plans for the week and what they can do together if Roier comes back in the following days, and he tells Roier about the drama among the islanders.
On the other side of the line, Roier has fallen silent again.
“I know you’re probably sleepy, but I just wanted to talk to you a little bit and hear your voice. I hope you’re having a good sleep, Roier.”
And Cellbit hangs up again, smiling to himself. It’s always nice to talk to Roier, even if it’s just for a brief moment.
He sets his communicator down. On cue, the oven dings , signaling the timer’s end.
Cellbit is losing sleep these days.
It’s all he seems to do nowadays, but he’s so exhausted. He sleeps before the sun sets and wakes up before the sun rises, or vice versa. Time passes painfully slowly, and Cellbit aches for his husband who has been absent too long for his comfort.
He tosses and turns, and fights back a yawn and the heaviness of his eyelids that beg for him to sleep away his pains.
“Pai Cellbit,” a voice suddenly whispers from his door, startling the restless man. Cellbit rolls over and peers in the dark at Richarlyson who clutches his mushroom hat nervously. “I can’t sleep.”
Cellbit wants to chuckle, but he only musters a weak smile. “I can’t either. Come here.”
When he stretches out his hand, Richarlyson waddles up to the edge of his bed and slips in under the sheets to curl up next to Cellbit’s side. Instinctively, Cellbit wraps his arm around his son, protective, and pulls him close.
“What’s wrong, Richas?” Cellbit asks, voice hushed.
“Why can’t you sleep?”
“... I don’t know.” He tries to find the reason and searches for an explanation to give his son, but he can’t think of anything. Cellbit hates not knowing, but he gets the feeling that this is something he won’t figure out for a while. “Let’s call Roier and see what he’s up to, okay?”
Richarlyson rolls over and hesitates. He looks at Cellbit for a long moment, silent, and exhales softly. “Okay.”
And so Cellbit reaches over for his communicator and calls Roier once more.
“Boa tarde. Yes, Richas is here with me,” Cellbit says into his communicator with a gentle smile. “We both miss you, guapito. We’re having trouble sleeping– Yes, both of us– Not that that’s something you would know anything about,” he adds with an airy laugh. Cellbit thoughtfully scratches his scruffy beard and sighs as he awaits the answer. “No, I’m not staying up too late working on enigmas. I actually sleep a lot more these days. Probably more than necessary, yeah.”
“Pai? Você está bem?” Richarlyson asks him in a quiet voice, laced with concern.
Cellbit shushes him, chuckling. “That was Richas. He’s asking if I’m okay.” He pauses. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired these days, is all.” Then, he continues to tell Roier about how his past nights have been—rough, nightmare-filled, and lonely—until his son chimes in again.
“You need to sleep,” Richarlyson interrupts, a little more worried this time.
Stilling, Cellbit eyes his son who stares back in perturbed silence. Richarlyson doesn’t speak again, and neither does Roier—both of them are wordless as they await Cellbit’s next words. But Cellbit finds himself growing tired, so he puffs out a fatigued breath.
“Richas wants me to sleep, and I think I need to as well,” Cellbit says into his communicator. Again, Roier is still quiet, and Cellbit thinks he may have fallen asleep already. “Goodnight, guapito.”
When he sets aside his communicator and settles back comfortably in bed, Richarlyson is uneasy. Though Cellbit asks what’s wrong, Richarlyson doesn’t elaborate more than a mere, “I think you should sleep, Pai.”
But, even after hearing Roier’s voice, Cellbit doesn’t sleep any better that night.
It’s a peaceful night when Cellbit decides he’s going to give up on trying to sleep.
The savannah’s breeze sweeps over him, ruffling his hair and cooling down his feverishly hot skin. He’s been shaky and exhausted since he hasn’t been able to sleep. So, like a dying man turns his eyes to the sky for his final goodbyes, Cellbit finds himself on the balcony.
Up above, the stars twinkle—they’re a distant light to illuminate Cellbit’s night—and the cool breeze makes the amaranths sway. Cellbit can remember the amaranth tucked in Roier’s hair the day of their wedding as well as the one tucked into his very own lapel.
In his hand, he holds his communicator.
And he calls Roier again, a habit grown in his worse moments.
He waits for the ringing to end, impatient and jittery. The second he hears Roier’s bright, “ Hola!” Cellbit begins talking and talking, until tears well up and everything pours out from his aching, slowing heart.
“Where are you?” he croaks weakly and plucks a strand of the pink amaranth. “You’ve been gone for so long , and I miss you so much, guapito. Have I done something wrong? Are you okay? What happened?” Dozens of questions and pleas for a response spill out of Cellbit’s mouth, quick and desperate.
He tells Roier that life isn’t the same without him, and he doesn’t know how he ever lived without him—that he can’t do it now that they’ve been united by their wedding bands. The whole time, Cellbit fidgets with the paper in front of him. It’s good to keep his hands occupied so they don’t claw at him in his wave of emotions.
And Roier stays silent the whole time.
Difficultly, Cellbit finally chokes back the tears and swallows down all his other hopeless words. There’s no point to them. Roier will come back eventually; he always has.
So Cellbit takes a deep breath and smiles to himself as serenely as he can. Tears drip down his chin as he says, “The stars are beautiful, Roier. The amaranths are doing fine; they’re still flowering. I wish you were here so we could appreciate them together. They’re really beautiful, Roier.”
Roier makes no sound, simply listening to Cellbit’s ramblings. Cellbit wishes he’d say something, but he also realizes that maybe– maybe he just needs to talk.
“I wish you were here, but if you’re busy– if you need time, I’ll wait for you,” Cellbit promises. “I’ll wait for as long as it takes.”
The stars continue to move across the sky.
Cellbit wipes his tears.
“Boa noite, guapito. Te amo.”
He doesn’t expect to hear it back. Still, he waits for a few heartbeats before he hangs up.
His message goes to voicemail, just like every other message has, for Cellbit forgets how long now. In one swift movement, Cellbit crumples up the paper he’s been fidgeting with. The large, bold text that says “MISSING” with Roier’s picture beneath it disappears when Cellbit tosses it over the balcony.
As he steps back into his empty bedroom, he leaves his communicator with dozens of unheard voicemails on the balcony.
Cellbit will call again tomorrow.