The Sisters

FEATURED in The Writing.Com Newsletter - Short Stories: You're Toast - Editor's Picks, by Leger~ , November 23, 2011

They knew that I had seen them from the distance. I waved at them, and they immediately waved back. I was following orderly marches of birds on the wet sand, and I sometimes ran in the direction of gardens of terns and seagulls; making them fly away like disorganized little clouds. The two ladies were sitting on their folding beach chairs by the sandy water’s edge, and their small, pink and yellow parasols gently shook in the breeze, over their heads. Their beach chairs, small and made of wood, were supported by striped white and black canvas. They were quietly facing the blue horizon. As I walked toward them, I could feel the cool water on my bare feet yet... I felt solemn, spectral feel to it. My soul, full of warmth and confidence, wanted to escape, briefly, from its protection, and fly in the direction of the seagulls; standing lazily in the sun, and catch little mullets that were jumping by the seaside.

“Hello. Isn’t it a lovely morning?” I said, walking closer to them.

“Oh yes, it is a charming day.” They both agreed at the same time. I noticed that they were wearing white pants, flowery blouses, and white beach shoes.

“Where did you come from, dear? One lady asked me.

“And where are you going to, dear?” The other lady inquired.

“I am from Brazil, originally, but I arrived three days ago, from Florida. I want to live here.”

“My my, aren’t we a traveler.”

"Well, you certainly know the world, don’t you? What brings you here? Is it our warm water or our white sand? What is it, dear?”

“Why, Flo, why do you ask such personal questions? She might have secrets.”

“Well, Frances, there’s no harm in asking...”

“You are far too curious. On the other hand, I’d love to know. I like secrets.”

“Yes, you always have, Fran.”

“Well, I don’t see anything wrong with that, Flo. So, young lady, what is your secret? What magical things bring you here... as if wafting on a light breeze, coming up here, and to this beach?”

I paddled my feet through the water--splashing little waves, and headed toward them; feeling the sun on my back. Their eyes grew larger as I approached, and their eerie eyes were so intensely blue, that they were probably reflecting the ocean’s mysteries... as if there was a threat coming. I felt a ray of sun on my back while a chill ran through my heart. I stopped just before, as I could offend them because they seemed kind of ill at ease. I needed to give them a peaceful signal. I hesitated. I smiled. What a funny feeling, I thought to myself. I was intensely happy to see them, as if I knew them from somewhere, but from where? I had never been to the Gulf Coast before.

“Come on here ... closer, dear.”

“She has an enchanting walk, doesn’t she, Flo?”

“Well, Frances, she does. Come on here, young lady. What is it about you? Isn’t this breeze lovely? How can you stay in the sun like that, my oh my. I’d certainly hurt my fair skin.”

“Oh, Flo, you have always been such a delicate little rose, haven’t you? You worry so much about things. My Goodness,”

“I am really happy to be in the sun.” I told them. “There is a lot of sun in Brazil. I love it.”

“Well, come here, child, where did you say you were from? I didn’t hear well with this wind, with the sailboats, and the seagulls. Did you say you were from... Brazil?”

“Yes ma’am, I did!”

“Oh come on over here, closer to me, let me have a look at you. Where on earth is... Brazil?”

“Flo, why don’t you mind your own business, leave the child alone.”

“Well, Fran, she’s hardly a child. She looks like a lady.”

“Of course she’s a lady! Did you think she was a mermaid?”

“Well, I’ve never seen a mermaid. Stop that. Well, what is it you have to say about our fine Gold Coast? Come, and sit here, right next to me. I want to look at your fine profile.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Young lady, I’m Florence and this is my sister, Frances.”

“I’m Christina. It’s a pleasure to meet both of you,” I said heartfelt. I really meant it. “I also like your Southern rhythm.”

A mullet flipped up from the sea, right before us and fell right down in the water, spanking the ocean with its tail. Such pleasure, such happiness. I felt at home, right there, right then, in the calmness of the Coast. I had completely forgotten about Brazil. As the world turned sharply, the sun rays grew orange and yellow, while shifting a natural course in the sand, on the water, on the birds, in the breeze, and in the jumping fishes. Brazil became a haunting fantasy. So far... Even I began to question my heart; Brazil. How do I explain that? What could I say, so I pointed toward the sun.

“Brazil is over there, far, down there. That’s where I live. Or, lived.”

“What do you mean, over there? Towards the West? Isn’t Brazil in the South?”

“Of course, it is south. Don’t pick on her. She’s from Brazil. Leave her be, Frances.”

“Well, she pointed that way, Flo!”

“You are completely twisted, Frances. What did you have for breakfast this morning?”

“Well, I had cheerios, and so did you.”

“What do you have for breakfast in Brazil, young lady?”

“Well, I love to eat manioc cake, cheese, and a strong cup of coffee with a little bit of milk in the morning.” I told them. “Brazilians love to have big breakfasts.”

“Come--come, closer. Sit right here. I’m a bit hard at hearing.”

“No, come closer to... me. I hear better than my sister does. What--what are you doing here, dear?”

“This is really personal, Fran. Leave her be, but... what are you doing here, honey? You said you wanted to live here. Why?”

“It’s all right. I don’t mind. I can tell you. I--fell in love with Long Beach. I fell in love with Ocean Springs. Oh I simply fell in love with Mississippi. It reminds me so much of Brazil. I want to live here with my boyfriend, and, maybe in Long Beach. He’s from here. We are living in Florida but I don’t like it there. It’s not as if you were living in the United States; well, that’s how I feel.”

“What did you say? Long Beach? Yes, Long Beach. You know, I never thought about that ... Long Beach. Why is the name Long Beach, Flo?

“Maybe it’s because it’s a long beach. Who knows? Besides, Long Beach has always been long, Fran. Now, tell me -- are you in love, dear?” Flo asked me while she looked deeply into my eyes.

“Oh do tell us, dear!” Fran giggled.

“Yes, I am, very much so. And, I want to move to Mississippi as soon as possible.” I told them with a big smile on my face. “Are you ladies from here, from Long Beach?”

“Am I from Long Beach? Is she from Long Beach? Of course dear, we’re both from here. We’re fine Mississippian ladies,” Flo said proudly while she put on her big, dark, and fashionable sunglasses over her little nose. Her lovely golden bracelets reflected in the sun, but sometimes they seemed to not be... there. Frances smiled, moved elegantly in her beach chair, and pushed her white hair back from her violet-blueish eyes. I was already in love with both of them and wished I’d known them long before. I wanted to sit there forever until sunset, until evening came and talk to them, learn with them about extraordinary adventures, however tiny ... or big they were, both human and spiritual. We sat there, in silence, enjoying the lazy noon.

“Were you ladies here during the big storm?” I asked curiously, but feeling a sudden pressure in my heart. I needed to ask that question. I had to. There was this inner urge, as if I had to ask ... so that they would talk about it, feel it, and face the dilemma with courage.

“Oh yes ... we were. It was really big ... big, big.” Flo said.

“Hum ... I’d say it was the biggest storm I’d ever seen.” Fran told.

“Where were you when it happened, my dear?”

“I was in Brasilia. We were all shocked. I cried when I watched it on TV.”

“Well, we were right here, dear. We saw such terrible things, you know. Terrible. We saw our next-door neighbor lose his house in the big storm, yes we did. The big one.”

“Which storm, Flo?”

“Why the big storm, Fran.”

“Oh yes ... true. It was big.”

“I remember looking out of the window, the day after the big one---or, maybe it wasn’t. Oh I don’t know. I can’t remember, anyway, dear, I remember that I saw a white refrigerator, door wide open, on top of my tree, right there in my back yard. I remember staring at it for a long time. That’s when you called me, Frances, to help you.”

“Yes, it was two days after the big storm. I remember well. I had been hiding in the bathtub.”

“In the bathtub, Fran? What a silly thing to do. My word.”

“What happened to your neighbor?” I asked.

“Oh look! Another mullet!” Flo pointed.

“Oh yes. I wonder where they go to. Do you have mullets in Brazil, dear?” Fran asked.

“Of course they do but with a different name. Are you a Brazilian, my dear? My husband’s brother went to Costa Rica once, I remember that. Is that close to Brazil?”

“Who was that, Flo? The General’s brother?”

“Well yes, Fran. Did you forget that?”

“No, I didn’t. It’s just that my memory ...”

“Well, dear, let me finish the story. Our neighbor, Paul, he told me that he heard the noise of the water... coming---pushing mud and debris, and swirling around right in the middle of his bedroom. He jumped on top of his tall closet and sat there while loads of water and carcasses of dead animals swirled and twisted, right there---all day long. Terrible.”

“Did you see what happened to Rose, Flo?”

“Rose?”

“Yes, Rose, remember her?”

“Oh yes ... what happened to her?”

“Well ... She lost it all, you know. She had just left her house to visit her sick husband in the hospital. When she got there, the hospital was ... gone. And, when she got home after the storm, her house was … gone, too.”

“Oh my Goodness.”

“Yes, a real pity. What a shame. I never saw her again.”

“What about Patty? Have you heard from her?”

“No, I haven’t, Flo. The last time I saw her was when she told us about her neighbor.”

“Neighbor? Which neighbor, Fran?”

“Why Flo, that man that had an argument with that famous midget actor, that killed him, and that went to prison for life. His family is wild.”

“Oh yes. Terrible people. Wild people they were. All of them were taken by the surge, though.”

“What surge?” I asked.

“Why, dear, the 87-feet surge that came right after the wind. It carried everything away …”

“Was it that big, Flo?”

“Why yes, Fran. That’s what I was told—87-feet high. It swallowed it all.”

“Terrible.”

“I’ll say.”

“Many volunteered from Brazil, you know, and came to help in the Gulf Coast, during the big storm. We were stunned by all the news we read, and by what we saw on TV. Yes, such a terrible thing to happen. So many lives were taken. So many people missing—everywhere.”

“It was devastating.”

“Yes, catastrophic.”

“Well, I loved talking to both of you, I really did, but I must go now. My boyfriend is waiting for me, over there, by the harbor. He is fixing his sailboat. He must be wondering where I am or if I went back to Brazil; crossing the Gulf Coast. I hope to see you ladies again. You are both adorable.”

“Oh what a lovely thing to say, isn’t it Fran?”

“Yes, yes it is, Flo! Please, dear, come and visit us whenever you come here again! Promise.”

“I promise. Bye now. I loved meeting both of you. Take care of yourselves, hear me? Don’t stay too long in the sun.”

“Thank you, dear. Bye.”

“Toodle loo, dear.”

I hated to leave them but I had been away far too long. I wanted to take them with me, carry them in my arms and take them to the Treasure Bay Casino Hotel. I waved goodbye and so did they. Flo held her sunglasses over her tiny nose while Fran pulled her white hair back over her forehead, then, they faced the seashore, and continued talking about seagulls, mullets, the ocean, the beach, and of the big storm. I looked back more than once as I walked saw them chatting, moving their arms and pointing at the horizon, maybe wondering where Brazil was. I missed them already, with all my heart. How can you like persons you never saw before? How can you miss them when you just met them?

Minutes later, when my boyfriend saw me, my feet were wet and covered with sand; my hair blowing in the soft, warm October breeze. There was a happy smile on my face because I had made my very first friends in the Gulf Coast.

“Did you have fun, Christina? I saw you over there, sitting by the shore but you weren’t facing the ocean. Why? You love to look at the ocean and think of distant voyages, I know that.”

“I was talking to two fine ladies. Didn’t you see them?”

“See who?”

“Them, the ladies over there, sitting under their pink and yellow parasols. My new friends.”

“Where?”

“There, see?” I pointed at them, as I turned.

“Christina, It was only you I saw from the distance.”

“Come on, can’t you see them, right there, sitting in their beach chairs, and under their pink and yellow parasols? They are right there. Look! They are waving at me. Wave back. I told them about you.”

“Christina, there is nobody over there. I think you caught too much sun. We’d better go back to the hotel. Come on, now. We’ll come back tomorrow but you mustn’t forget to bring your beach hat.”

“But ...” My heart missed a beat. As I looked again, their little figures, like mist, were disappearing, fading ... while the sun greedily took charge of the white sand where they had once sat, and the ocean pushed the waves onto the shore, angrily opening its way. The seagulls joined in little groups; silent wanderers of the world, trying to show me what I hadn’t seen all along. Sometimes you see what isn’t really there.

I understood. I knew. I knew what had happened to them. It had been … the big storm. Was it time, or was it a mirage? Were they there a century ago or some years ago? Had they been there all along? I think that once something happens, time is still there ... like little grains of sand.

Words: 2,533