‘The Mangrove's Lights’
Artist Miki Simic is a first-generation American residing in Ohio. Although she works as a nurse during the day, she spends any free time diving into her passion for art and writing.
The Mangrove’s Lights
El mangle
“Slow down, Mariola!” Noah called out.
A few paces ahead of him, a girl with dark hair tied up with a red ribbon moved swiftly between mangrove branches and roots. She did it with a practiced ease, while Noah was stuck making sure he did not lose his footing.
-Tienes que avanzar, Vainilla.- Mariola said, not turning his way.
Noah groaned at the nickname Mariola had given him. While it was better than to be called gringo, it was the only name she ever called him by. While he understood he had a paler complexion than most in the pueblo, he felt that after all the years they had known each other, she would call him by his name. However, he could focus only on one thing at a time, and the current thing was not slipping on mangrove roots in the dark of night. All he had was his memory of how the mangroves looked during the day and the moonlight piercing through the canopy.
Escaping into the mangroves was something the two friends did often. It was the best way for the two of them to get away from Noah’s disapproving father. The mangrove forest was their special place, and Noah would forever appreciate it.
Noah finally caught up to Mariola at the edge of the forest. The edge led to the lagoon that the pueblo was named after, La Parguera. To his right were the faint lights of the pueblo, and to the left was the place where the lagoon met the Caribbean Sea. The moonlight illuminated the water, but the sediment and mangrove roots kept the water murky. However, that did not matter. The mangroves had a special kind of beauty when night fell. He turned to Mariola; with a wide smile jumped into the depths. He reached out, worried for his friend. The waters that surrounded the forest could be deceptively deep.
As Mariola hit the water, yellow-green lights illuminated the water’s surface. As she emerged from beneath, the lights danced around her. Noah was enamored by the sight. While not the first time he had seen the lights, he was still mesmerized by them. He turned to her, who splashed water in his direction.
“Jump!”
He steadied his nerves for a moment and took a deep breath; he jumped off the roots and into the lagoon. He kept his eyes closed, but when his head was over the water, he could see the lights of the lagoon surrounding him. Noah cupped some water in his hands and saw the lights dancing in the small pool. He let the water fall and saw Mariola grabbing onto roots to get out. Her loose clothes were now stuck to her body, and the sight caused him to look away. He looked toward the full moon, without it, he would not have made it through the mangroves.
Slowly, fewer and fewer of the lights surrounded him. He was saddened to see them leave but still happy to have seen them in the water. He turned back to Mariola, who had climbed to a studier mangrove branch to sit on. She smiled at Noah and looked toward the sky as well. She then closed her eyes and began to hum a song. It was the same song he had heard when he first met her. It had a somber beginning, as if lamenting the loss of something. As the song continued, a feeling of release washed over him and the mangrove’s lights began to rise into the sky. The lights seemed to dance as they rose toward the moon. It was as if they, too, knew Mariola’s song and it was meant for them. It was their cue to meet with the moon. As Mariola’s song came to an end, the lights began to fade.
Noah watched the whole event mesmerized with the way Mariola connected with the lights. It was something that only she could do, but he felt as if there was more to the song as if it were meant for all the lights. Mariola opened her eyes and looked down at him once again, she smiled.
“I’m still surprised you can do that,” he said as he swam towards the mangrove’s roots.
She shrugged. “It just came to me one day.”
Noah had heard her hum that song by the waterfront several times now. She hummed it when only he was around. He had asked her mother about it, but she had no idea what Noah was talking about. It was a song that only Mariola knew, and Noah was the only person to have heard it.
Slowly, they made their way back to the pueblo. This time Mariola slowed down and kept up with him, even making sure he was stepping and holding on to the right branches. The mangroves ended, or began depending on where one started their walk into them, on a small strip of sand. Waiting for them was Mariola’s puppy, Ajonjolí, with his thick fur wet from resting by the waterfront. The dog jumped up excitedly, ran past Mariola, and jumped to Noah. He laughed as the dog tried to lick his face.
“That dog likes you more than me,” Mariola said, putting her hands on her hips.
She walked toward the shore, the waves hitting her feet as they rolled in and out. Ajonjolí followed her and sat next to her, with Noah following the dog’s lead. She looked up to the moon again and Noah followed her gaze. She hummed the song from earlier and the lagoon’s lights danced again.
He tried to hum something to match her song, but it quickly failed, and the lights disappeared. Mariola turned to him and sputtered a laugh. “What was that?”
Noah’s face flared red in embarrassment. He scratched the back of his head and turned away. “I was just trying to match you.”
“Keep trying.”
When he turned to her, he was surprised to see that her face had quickly changed to a more serious expression. “Once you find your song, we’ll be able to make sure the lagoon’s lights find their way back to the moon.”
Noah was surprised to hear such certainty in her tone. He could tell this was important to her, but he could not fully understand why. But if it was important to her then it would also be important to him.
When Noah returned to his family’s vacation home, he quietly entered his room. He tried to find a place to hide his damp clothes, knowing that if his father saw them, he would punish Noah, and he would likely blame Mariola. When he had dry clothes on, he sat on his bed and stared out the window. The full moon illuminated his room, and he began to hum the song he had thought of. As he drifted off to sleep, a part of him felt like he had forgotten to tell Mariola something.
La academia
The climate of Chatham, Virginia felt foreign. It was still rather warm and somewhat humid for September, but compared to the island where he was born, Noah felt like he was on another planet. When the car pulled into the parking lot in front of the administration building for Hargrave Military Academy, he knew he was not going back to Puerto Rico for a long time. It was the place his father had told him would be attending once he was done with elementary school; the place where his father had done the same.
Noah moved to the trunk to grab his suitcase but stopped when his mother called out to him. He looked up to see his parents on the sidewalk gesturing for him to join them, or his mother did. His father simply stared out at the campus. Noah could see the glimpse of nostalgia in his eyes. His father spoke often and highly of his former school and promised it would be the best for him. A promise Noah did not entirely believe.
He walked up to his mother, who held him close. He was almost taller than her, but her heeled shoes made her stand slightly above him. His father turned to him a proud expression on his face, something that Noah rarely saw.
“Don’t you worry. This place’ll beat the last island living right out of you,” he said.
Noah simply nodded. He silently hoped the school would not. He had a friend he wanted to desperately see again, and he did not want to lose that important connection.
The three walked into the administration building, where a secretary met them. His father said they had a meeting with the academic counselor as well as the principal of the high school. The secretary looked through some papers before finding the right ones. She welcomed them to the school and let them into the office.
The room was filled with different military decorations: banners; medals; pictures of soldiers, likely all graduates, and other kinds of military memorabilia. The desk stood in front of a large window that faced the campus, it was sparsely adorned but did display a small flag of the United States as well as one for the school. Noah glanced to the other side of the room and saw a giant U.S. flag hung as well and wondered why the office needed two.
All the decorations reminded him of his father’s office back on the base. It was something that he had grown accustomed to seeing, but it felt different here, sterile. In his father’s office it more felt like something Noah could almost admire. While he did not exactly get along with his father, he did respect him and everything he went through. While he would have preferred his life to have remained on the island, the was a part of him that wanted to understand his father’s world, the one he spoke highly of and with a hint of nostalgia.
Seeing the chair behind the desk was empty, Noah wondered where the principal was, but his question was quickly answered when the door they had entered, and two men joined. Noah guessed the taller man with gray hair was the principal and the other was the academic counselor. His farther greeted both men warmly, another emotion Noah rarely saw in him and exclaimed how it had been a long time since they last saw each other. The principal gestured for the family to sit on the chairs in front of the desk, then his seat, the counselor stood next to him. Noah glanced to his father, who gestured for him to sit along with his mother. When Noah took a seat, his father placed his hands on his shoulders, but it felt like he was bolting him to the chair.
“It seems island life hasn’t changed you that much, John,” the principal said with a chuckle.
“Nothing can really change the heart of a soldier,” Noah’s father replied.
“I can agree with you there.”
The two continued to speak as if they were the only two in the room. It made Noah wonder what he was even doing both in the office and at the school. If he was back in Puerto Rico, he would have been getting ready for the new year at the school on the base. He would have been writing to Mariola about how the first day of school went and telling her when he would be going back to La Parguera. Now he was simply a spectator to his father’s world. The world in which Jonathan Frost lived, not the one Noah wanted to live in.
“I see that you’ve enrolled your boy here. Was the academy on the base not up to standard?” the principal asked.
The question pulled Noah back into the office. While he was now the topic of conversation, he still had no input as his father spoke for him.
“He needs a steadier hand, and none of the schools on the bases have that,” his father explained. “Plus, I want my boy to be a part of the Frost legacy. Can’t do that slumming it at the beach all day.”
The principal sighed and sat up in his chair. “I hear you. Well, all the paperwork is squared away. He is starting a few days late, but it should be fine.” He gestured to the counselor standing next to him. “Michael will get him acclimated to the classes and living on campus.”
“Can I ask a question?” Noah’s mother said, speaking for the first time.
The principal glanced to his father, who gave a small shrug. “Of course.”
“Is there a way for him to keep taking Spanish classes? He quite enjoyed them on the island. It keeps him connected to the place he was born.”
The principal was about to reply when his father cleared his throat. Noah did not need to look up and he felt his shoulders be squeezed by his father’s hands.
“There is no reason for him to continue learning the language. It is no longer a requirement; therefore, he does not need it.”
The principal glanced between the two parents and turned to the counselor who stepped forward and got the attention of the family. “We do offer foreign languages as electives, but they are not required for graduation. He can look at what’s offered and see which interest him.”
Noah’s mother was about to respond when his father beat her to it. “I would like to see what is offered so I can choose what is best for him.”
The counselor nodded. “I understand.”
It was in that moment that Noah knew he did not really have a choice in the matter. Every class he would take would lead him to become the soldier his father envisioned him to be. He now knew that he was never going back home. He’d never getting the chance to see Mariola again. Never be able to walk through the mangroves with her. Never make do on his promise to her.
The conversation with the principal continued but Noah paid little attention. Soon they were out the door and back in the parking lot. A member of the school’s staff helped them get Noah’s belongings out of the car, and he grabbed his backpack. As he did, something fell out. He was too preoccupied in his thoughts to notice, but his father certainly did not miss it. He crouched down to pick up what he had dropped; it was a folded piece of paper. When Noah realized what it was, he tried to grab it out of his hands, but his father was quick to hold it out of his reach.
“What is this?” he demanded.
“Nothing. Just please give it back.”
His father opened it up, revealing a note. It was in Spanish, so he could not read it, but he could read the name that was signed at the bottom.
“I want you to forget about that island girl. She is nothing but a distraction. If you reach out to her, I will know. Do you understand?” The tone is his voice revealed the anger he felt toward Mariola. It was the same tone he had used when he first saw Noah with her and every other time he could guess Noah had been with her.
Noah gave a silent nod, but he knew that would not be enough. His father crumpled the paper and threw it to the ground. “I said: ‘Do you understand?’”
“Yes, sir.”
It still was not enough. “Do you?”
Noah stood at attention, as best he could. “I will never speak to her again, sir.”
His father sighed and picked up the crumpled note. “Very good. Now, grow strong.”
“Yes, sir.”
Satisfied, his father put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair. Even when he got angry his farther never raised a hand only his voice. He could hear him telling his mother to not comfort him, that he was on his first step to becoming a man now. Noah tried his best not to let the tears fall, but one managed to escape. Once he was settled in his dorm, the sun was setting. He looked out the window to see red-orange skies. They looked just similar enough to the skies of La Parguera that the memories gave him comfort. He opened the last suitcase and saw that it had a few mementos from the island. His mother had likely stashed them in there. As he set them on his desk, he hummed Mariola’s song and intertwined the melody with notes that were all his own. He looked out the window and imagined the lagoon light rising into the sky. He knew it would be a long time, but he would get back to her again. He had to.
El pueblo
By the time Noah arrived at La Parguera the sun was setting. He had not expected the drive from Aguadilla’s military base to take so long. He parked the car in the pueblo’s outskirts and walked into town, surprised at how much things had changed in the seven years he was away. The roads had since been paved, new buildings adorned the streets, and others that had already existed had grown taller. He noticed new storefronts and diners as well. If not for so many memories of the time he had already lived there, he would not have recognized the pueblo.
While he walked, he noticed that a lot of the locals were turning toward him as he walked past. One thing never did change: how much he stood out. It was something he’d had to get used to, the gringo from out of town, settling in like he owned the place. He was sure that his military jacket did not help either. Compared to the north of Puerto Rico, this was a place where he was not as welcome.
He passed another new diner; it was full of locals just getting off work. Live music was being played, and Noah could feel the energy from it. It was what he had missed most, the music and the way it forged a connection between people. He turned his gaze to the waterfront across from the diner. He expected to see the lights from the lagoon rise to the music, but it seemed that only his friend had that ability. Before he could spend much more time reminiscing, he could hear the murmurs of people within the diner- their suspicions of this stranger. He shoved his hands into the pocket of his jacket and continued walking.
On the outside of the pueblo, in a less developed area, he arrived at a rather run-down bar. As he got closer, he could hear the patrons within, and from the sound of it the bar was busy. Noah had hoped that it would be empty, but no such luck. He stopped to read the signpost and chuckled at the name etched on to it: Ajonjolí.
Before he could enter an older man was shoved out from the doorless entrance. His hair and mustache were graying, and he wore threadbare clothes. He stumbled to his feet using the signpost to help himself.
Someone called out -¡Y la próxima vez le digo as tu esposa que estas tocando los culos de otras mujeres!-
Noah could not see the speaker, but he was sure who it was. The man stumbled his way back to the pueblo, paying no attention to Noah. He chuckled at the sight, knowing Mariola was never someone who would let those kinds of actions slide.
When he entered the bar, he was surprised by how few people there actually were. A table close to the door was populated by men of similar age to the one who’d been thrown out. They were focused on a game of dominoes and paid no mind to the newcomer. Two more tables were populated with more elderly men and a few women. Mariola’s clientele seemed to be mostly people of the older generation. A few eyes turned to Noah as he walked in, but he did his best to avoid their gazes.
Behind the counter stood Mariola, her dark hair tied up by the same red ribbon of their youth. She had her back to him, but Noah was sure she still looked same even after all his time away.
“Soldiers aren’t welcome here. Especially gringo soldiers.”
Noah looked past Mariola to see that she was looking into a mirror. Now all the bar’s patrons were looking at him. Noah, reading the atmosphere, turned away and decided to come back later. He stopped himself when he heard a dog sniffing the air. From behind the counter, an old dog with thick fur emerged. It sniffed the air again and its gaze landed on Noah. At first, Noah was worried when it broke into a run, but he quickly recognized the dog. He knelt and let the familiar creature perch himself on his knee, but did not allow him to lick his face.
“It’s been a while Ajonjolí,” Noah said scratching the dog’s neck.
Ajonjolí turned to Mariola and barked happily. When Noah faced the counter, he saw Mariola roll her eyes. Noah gave the dog one last scratch behind the ear and walked toward the counter, the dog following him.
“Only Ajonjoli would be that excited to see you, Vainilla,” Mariola said as she crossed her arms.
Noah sighed and hung his head. “And here I thought you’d forgotten that nickname.”
A sly smile came to Mariola’s face that made Noah’s heart skip a beat. “What else would I call you?”
Before Noah could respond, Mariola was called over by the group playing dominoes. She looked up, nodded, and made her way to the table. Noah saw how easily she spoke to the four older men. He couldn’t make out exactly what they spoke about, but they clearly trusted her judgment. The four were likely regulars, so she was used to their presence.
-¿Te gustan las trigueñas, gringo?-
Noah turned to the speaker. A man with a beaten-up Yankees cap had set his empty glass at the bar and had a judgmental look on his face.
“Sorry?”
-No sabes español, ¿eh?-
-Lo hablo,- Noah replied with his accented Spanish, -solo que no te escuché bien.-
As he heard himself speak, he hadn’t realized how much his Spanish had changed. He always had an accent, but it was more pronounced than usual. His time away from the island really had changed him more than he thought.
-Déjalo quieto, Don Humberto,- Mariola said as she returned.
Don Humberto said something to Mariola in a hushed tone, to which she reacted by shaking her head. The man shrugged and took his refilled glass back to the table where his friends were waiting. Mariola gave him an apologetic look as she set down a glass of some kind of alcohol.
“Thanks, but not tonight. I have to drive to Ponce in a bit.”
She understood and took the glass back. She was called away again, and left Noah alone. Don Humberto’s words were repeating in his head. He had heard what the older man had said but had chosen to ignore it in that moment. It was something he had never really thought about. To him, Mariola was his childhood friend and someone important to him. However, he could never deny that at times his feelings were more complicated than that.
When she returned, a glass in each hand, she let out a breath and set both glasses on the counter. “They don’t like you.”
“I figured as much,” Noah said with a shrug. “They never have. No matter how many times I tell them I was born here.”
“Why did you come back?” She asked as she cleaned one of the glasses.
The question Noah had been dreading. He was hoping that their reunion would avoid that topic. He thought he could play it off by simply saying he was passing through, but he knew Mariola would not believe such a lie. Noah took a moment to piece his words together in his head. It should have been simple, but the more he thought about it, the harder it was to come up with the right words.
“Want me to guess?” Mariola asked.
He shrugged. The two had known each other for so long that they rarely needed to express what they were thinking.
Mariola set down the glass and pointed to him, but he could tell she was pointing at his jacket. -Después de todo sigues siendo un soldado.-
Noah was surprised she spoke to him in Spanish. While they often dipped into Mariola’s native tongue, they usually spoke in an amalgamation of their two native languages. She used her first language when his did not suffice. And based on her expression, she was being serious.
“I don’t really have a choice,” he said somberly.
“There’s always a choice,” she replied.
“Have you met my father!” Noah surged from his seat, frustration quickly fading when he saw that Mariola had taken a step back.
She did not need to respond to that; she had met him. He was the reason Noah had left, the reason he had not seen her in years. As an adult, he had never known never a life outside of being a soldier. His father had ingrained in Noah’s mind since he was a boy that he would follow in his footsteps. He knew no other option, but he wished the one standing right in front of him was. It was the reason he’d come back.
Noah sighed and sat down on a barstool. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”
“It’s fine,” Mariola said as she turned on the faucet. -Nunca te he podido convencer a no irte.-
Her words were quiet, but Noah could make them out over the sound of running water. He wanted to ask what she meant but knew it was not the right time. He sat in silence and let one arm dangle off the side of the chair. Ajonjolí nudged his hand, forcing it to rest on top of his head. He chuckled, appreciating how astute the dog could be even in his old age. Mariola was moving among the tables to pick up empty glasses. Noah did not want to leave after raising his voice but felt that it was for the best. He got up from the stool and began to walk out.
“Vainilla!”
He stopped and turned to see Mariola walking toward him. She had an apologetic expression on her face.
“Before you leave for Ponce, meet me where we first met. There’s something I want to show you.”
She had said it quickly and in a hushed tone, but Noah understood. He nodded in response and headed to the strip of sand by the mangrove forest.
The sun had mostly set by the time Noah arrived at the strip of sand. While it was relatively close to Mariola’s bar, he still had to go through a small patch of mangrove to get there. He took off his shoes and sat down in the sand, letting the memories of childhood wash over him. The slow ebb and flow of the waves made him recall them all. Noah smiled as he remembered, and a part of him wanted to go through the mangrove forest. He wondered if Mariola would do it with him. He laughed at the thought, knowing she would probably do it even if he did not ask.
As he watched the waves and the sun’s final rays, he began to hum a song. He still remembered the song he promised Mariola he would find. However, in his time away from the lights of the mangroves, he could never find the inspiration. Now that he was back, ideas came to him, but as he hummed a tune, the lights of the lagoon would not glow.
He sighed in defeat and let himself be absorbed by the sounds of the mangroves. The slow-moving waves, the coqui’s high-pitched call, the insects that buzzed by, all of it reminding him of the adventures he used to have with Mariola. Their last night together in particular came to mind. He still regretted not telling her he was leaving. He wondered if she would forgive him for that.
A new sound broke through the natural ones, a human voice that seemed to harmonize with the sounds of the mangroves. The lights of the lagoon began to glow in the water. One by one they rose into the sky. He stood up, mesmerized by the way the lights danced, the same way they had the first time he had seen it.
He looked back to see Mariola joining him. Her eyes were closed as the song that was once just a hum turned into vocalizations. More lights than ever before glowed and danced, each rising to meet the glowing moon on the horizon. As the song came to an end, the remaining lights rose and faded into the sky.
“It’s just as beautiful as I remember,” Noah said.
“I come here almost every day, waiting.” She looked to him with a smile. -Esperando tu canción.-
“I don’t think I have one,” he said with a sigh.
“I don’t believe that,” she replied, her words holding so much certainty. A certainty that whose source Noah did not know. She took several steps forward and let the surf hit her feet, letting the hem of her dress as well. “Try again.”
Noah sighed, ready to be embarrassed again, the same way he was when he first tried, but he attempted anyway. If Mariola was right and he did have a song in him, then he hoped it was compatible with hers. He wanted it to be not just his song, but hers as well. Their song.
Noah took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He cleared his mind and let the sounds of the mangroves fill him with ideas. Slowly, notes came into his head, and he began to hum. Just like Mariola’s, the song started out somber. A lament that he could only describe as unspoken feelings. As the song continued, the emotions began to change. They no longer felt like unspoken feelings but like emotions that had always been there. Emotions that had no need to be spoken. When he felt a hand on his shoulders, he opened his eyes to see the lagoon’s lights dancing in the water. A few were rising into the sky finding, the moon that was peeking over the horizon.
As his song came to an end, the lights slowly disappeared. They left behind a newfound resolve within Noah. He turned to Mariola, who wore a happy smile. He opened his mouth but stopped himself. He wanted to wait a bit more before telling her.
“Still needs work, right?” he asked sheepishly instead.
“Perhaps, but it was beautiful.”
Mariola dropped her hand from his shoulder and Noah felt her fingers brush against his. He looked to her and smiled as well; that would be good enough for now.
“Next time we’ll make the lights rise together,” she said.
“But this time, let’s stay in touch. I’ll write you letters,” Noah said a bit too enthusiastically, something Mariola picked up on. She laughed, which embarrassed him more than he cared to admit.
“Hold out your hand,” Mariola said.
Noah tilted his head in confusion but did it anyway. Mariola undid the ribbon that was tying her hair and put it in Noah’s hand. She softly curled up his hand and pushed it into his chest.
-Algo para que te recuerdes.-
-Siempre. Pase lo que pase.-
Noah drove to Ponce that night humming the song he had created on that strip of sand, wanting to know how his song and Mariola’s could work in tandem.
La jungle
Noah hated trudging through the jungle. It was a similar feeling to hopping between mangrove roots, but that was something he enjoyed doing. Walking through the jungle with heavy equipment on his back, and humidity worse than the rainforest, made for an unpleasant experience. In front of him walked the rest of the soldiers who were a part of his unit, all of them keeping an eye on unfamiliar territory.
Noah had been deployed for close to three months now. He had been lucky to avoid combat in the time since his arrival, but he knew he could not remain so lucky. His unit’s assignment was simple: survey the jungle for enemy combatants and either eliminate them or drive them away from the larger force’s encampment. It was a routine assignment, always done when the skies turned orange with the sunset.
Masking most of their sounds was the river that flowed on their right. They had reached a point where the rapids grew faster, where the sound of rushing water overpowered any noise they could make. By the same token, that meant they could not hear the enemy either.
The unit had a predetermined search radius, but with their slow movement it would take time to reach the edge. Leading the search was Noah’s commanding officer. He was a straightforward person who believed in doing everything by the book. That the man knew his father did not put him in Noah’s good graces.
The unit came to an abrupt halt when the commanding officer gave them a signal to stop moving. Everyone raised their weapons as they kept their eyes on the surrounding vegetation, waiting to see if something looked out of place. They all inched closer to their commanding officer as he gave a signal to form up. He pointed out a trap he had spotted dug into the ground. Noah glanced at it and saw the sharpened wood in a deep hole. He shuddered at the thought of being impaled by it.
Once they checked for any other traps nearby, the unit continued forward. As they moved farther into the forest, the rapids began to lessen. The sound of footsteps on mud and foliage being moved aside replaced the sound of water. The change of noise made the unit tense as they neared the edge of their search radius.
Part of Noah was thankful that this mission was coming to an end. But there was still the matter of returning. He put his hand on his left jacket pocket. He lifted it up to see that Mariola’s red ribbon was still there. Having it on him always reminded him of his end goal; he had to get back to her. He let out a breath and followed his unit back the way they had come.
Before they could make it very far, the unit stopped moving. Everyone had heard it, the shifting of mud and foliage that did not come from them. Noah lifted his weapon, keeping his eyes in front of him, though he doubted the enemies would jump out from the river.
The seconds they waited lasted an eternity. When no sound came from the jungle besides that of the river, they continued onward. However, they did not make it very far. In front them an explosion rocked the forest, a few men knocked back by the force. Noah thought he saw their commanding officer go flying missing a leg. The jungle came to life, not with animals but with people. Noah turned to fire at the enemies emerging from the jungle. How long they had been waiting, he did not know. All he did know was that he had to survive and make it back.
It felt like wave after wave of people were emerging from the jungle’s depths. The enemy had pushed them toward the riverbank. Without any cover they were not going to survive. Noah tried his best to move closer toward the natural cover the jungle provided, but it was no use. More and more people jumped out from the tall shrubs and bushes. All the sound ceased when an explosion knocked Noah into the river.
He tried to swim, but his legs seemed unable to move. His heavy gear pulled him toward the bottom of the river. He tried taking it off, but his arms could not seem to move either. Noah could feel himself losing air. Every second that passed was a second that he ran out of air. When he touched the bottom, the red ribbon snaked its way out of his pocket. As it rose to the surface, Noah thought of the mangrove’s lights. His arm did move to try and grab it, but it escaped his fingers and disappeared with the river’s current. He wondered if Mariola would still wait for him by that small strip of sand, waiting for his song.
In his head the song he had finally completed came to him, as memories of Mariola comforted him. As the notes played out in his head, he could see the lights he was enchanted by surround him. Maybe there could be a chance he could see them one last time even if it was only a memory. He just hoped that Mariola would forgive him for making her wait.
Las luces
When the car came to a stop on the outskirts of el pueblo de La Parguera, Noah was thankful he no longer had to hear his father drone on about the ongoing military efforts in some other part of the world. It was all he ever seemed to talk about, as if he could not get enough done within his own position in the military. And he always made sure Noah was aware he would follow in his footsteps.
He and his parents got out of the car and began walking toward the pueblo. With the sun setting, the various storefronts were closing up, but bars and small restaurants became livelier. Noah had always liked visiting La Parguera. It had a different atmosphere than the military base of Aguadilla and the more historic town of Ponce, which was accentuated by the change of the coastline. The mangrove lagoon, a place he and his family were visiting for the first time, felt like an escape from the monotonies of being the son of a military officer.
His mother and father entered a rather empty looking establishment and began to chat with the man behind the counter. Noah’s mother would be the one who mostly spoke, since she had put in the time to learn some of the language, while his father had refused to learn Spanish. He had always called the language barbaric for a place that was part of the United States. Noah had learned the language as well, since it was part of the curriculum at his school, but he still had an accent when he spoke.
Noah and his family hopped from establishment to establishment, trying different foods, which were mostly either something fried or a kind of meat on a skewer; typically, fish or chicken. Noah had eaten these foods before but seeing someone fry up an empanadilla fresh always made it taste better.
When they reached another bar, the sun had mostly set, and night was taking over the sky. Even with the streetlights, Noah could still see a good number of stars in the sky. Part of him wanted to be out in the lagoon, where even the lights of the pueblo could not affect the sky.
As he waited for his parents to sample another kind of local drink, Noah stared out into the lagoon. When he blinked, he saw a flash of a red ribbon walk past him. He turned to the direction he saw it go but saw nothing. He scratched his head in confusion. The sight of the ribbon felt familiar, like he knew who it belonged to. While it wasn’t his first time at La Parguera, it felt odd that he seemed to recognize someone he had never seen before.
As he turned his attention back to the lagoon and sounds of the pueblo slowly began to fade. Replacing them were the sound of the lagoon. The sounds began to combine to form a song in his mind. He began to hum the song, and on the edge of the lagoon lights began to appear. Noah stopped and the lights disappeared. He walked over to the water’s edge and put a hand in the water. Yellow-green lights flickered for a moment as he disturbed the calm surf. He had heard that a special kind of algae lived in the lagoon, but he had never actually seen it before. He marveled at the way the lights reacted to his hands. He began to hum the song that came to him again, and the lights slowly began to rise from the water. The lights surrounded him, but when he stopped, the lights disappeared.
“Wow,” Noah muttered to himself.
When he began to walk back to where he had left his parents, he heard another song, similar to his, in the distance. He recognized the song instantly, but he could not understand why. He moved his head around, trying to find the source of the music. When the sound intensified, he began to run. He had to run. He had to find the person he remembered despite never meeting them.
He ran to the outskirts of the pueblo. The small set of mangroves that stood in front of him was easy enough to move through. He reached a small strip of sand, and standing where the waves broke was a girl about his age. Her dark hair was tied back with a red ribbon, the same one he had seen earlier. Next to her sat a dog with thick fur. As she vocalized her song, the lights of the lagoon rose into the air. Noah walked up next to her and joined with the song he had only just seemed to learn, but as he hummed alongside the girl, it was like he had always known it. When their two songs merged, the lights rose higher and higher into the sky, swirling around them as they made their way toward the full moon.
When their song came to an end, the girl opened her eyes and turned to him with a smile.
-Tu canción es bonita.-
-La tuya también.-
The girl felt so familiar, yet Noah was sure he had never met her. But with the way their two songs merged, he was sure he knew her in some way.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Noah.”
The girl’s smile widened, as if she recognized him. “I’m Mariola. I’ve finally found you, Noah.”
A memory that he seemed to have forgotten came to the forefront of his mind. The memory of the girl who looked just like Mariola. She had taken him deep into the mangroves and shown him the lights of the lagoon. Remembering a nickname she used to avoid saying his name, Noah smiled and reached out to her.
“Finally, you’ve said my name.”
Padrick Moran is Puerto Rican writer living in Boston, MA. He majored in Creative Writing at Florida Sate University and is in his final year of his MFA program at Emerson College. His inspiration to write about Puerto Rico comes from all his experiences living on the island. He is proud to showcase the place he holds dear to anyone willing to learn more.
