By Raoul Suarez
I remember that goodbye.
I remember that look on her face when she told me that she had to leave while she was stroking my hair. I remember the warmth of that parting kiss as her lips softly pressed on my cheek. I remember how she walked out and gave me one last look. She did not bother to close the door. She left it wide open. I just sat there and watched her as she slowly paced away, taking small steps, until she disappeared in the distance. She turned to wave at me just once and that was it. She was gone.
It wasn’t the first time that it happened but it still felt strange. It was a peculiar kind of pain. It’s the kind that doesn’t hit you straight in the face and knocks you out cold, then you wake up with vague memories. No. It burned. It burned slowly. It was like water inside a kettle placed on a fiery hot stove. When it reaches a certain point, it makes an awful sound. You can hear the shrill noise as it blares inside your head. You can feel it resonate. It’s the sort of pain that gradually creeps up on you then it slowly consumes your entire being. That’s what it felt like as far as I can remember.
That day, I just sat there staring at the walls and the ceiling. I felt helpless but she was right; I had to be strong. I had to be tough as nails. Deep inside though, I wished that she would come back; that she would change her mind. Maybe she would. Maybe she wouldn’t. I should have told her to stay but it would be a futile attempt. People leave because they have to. They leave because they need to. They leave because they want to. You can never hold them back once they have decided to do so. You shouldn’t. You let them go on their way and you just carry on. It’s the right thing to do.
There was no assurance of her return but I was willing to wait anyway. I did not cry. I can’t recall if I did. That part is a little hazy. Maybe I did. It has been a long time since then. Maybe a decade or two. No. I think maybe more. I have never felt so alone in my entire life. She said she loved me but she walked out on me when I needed her company.
I met another woman on that fateful day. Just when one walked out on me, another walked in. She wore a peculiar kind of dress. It had buttons that weren’t made of plastic or any sort of metal. I don’t really know for sure though. The buttons were covered with the same material as the cloth fabric. That dress looked odd and bland; not very fashionable but not bad either. Just odd. Just bland. Very peculiar.
She slowly walked up to me and asked if she could sit beside me. I nodded. She then asked me if I was doing fine. I did not know what to say. I stared at her blankly with so many thoughts running in my head. I wanted to say something but the words would not come out. I figured that I disliked talking to strangers. I do not trust people. Not so much. No. Especially the ones that I have just met, but she was different. She had a very reassuring smile that radiated tender care. Her voice was soothing. Her presence gave me relief; like balm to a wound. She made me feel at ease. It felt like she knew all about the sadness I was trying bottle up. She understood. She saw through me like I was made of glass.
She introduced herself and she told me her name. She held out her hand and asked me if I could tell her mine.
And so I did.
I stood up from my chair. I looked her in the eye and said, “My name is Raoul. I’m four years old. I live in Molo. I don’t like school. Where is my mother? Where did she go? I want to go home.”
It has been a while since then. Three decades. Maybe more. I wonder where my nursery teacher, Ms. Dolores Braga, is now. That woman was a good part of my life. I wish I could see her again
