Dead Awake: The Last Crossing (13 page)

There was a light sprinkle
of moisture in the air. It wet my face and hands and began cooling
me from the intense sunlight. The slope was gradual, without
present danger. It reminded me of the mountains I had climbed as a
boy, when my parents had lived in Utah. They were natural and
smooth; a tender roll of hills and mountains that invited all to
come. Mountains that would care for you as you climbed on their
backs, like a giant holding his child. No danger of falling or
hurting oneself on those mountains. They had been my friends and I
missed them.

It got cold quickly. The
more I went up, the faster the temperature dropped. At first I
thought it was because the sun had begun to go down, but soon
realized there was a complete change of climate within every few
feet. Strange, how in the middle of a tropical island, there could
be such a mountain. I was in for a greater surprise.

After having climbed for
several hours, I looked up and saw the almost unreachable peak of
this great mountain. I saw snow! I couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t
easy to see clearly, because of a fog that had dropped, but it was
snow; even falling snow! I was glad about the blankets and heavy
sweaters now. However, I’m sure if I had refused them, the
villagers would not have let me go. I even found myself wishing
they were thicker blankets, for I was the shiver-prone type. I’d be
cold even when it wasn’t cold, which it wasn’t yet. It was probably
fifty degrees, but after having spent some time on the island,
fifty degrees seemed like fifty below.

There came a point of jagged
rocks that was a little harder to climb and more dangerous than
before. It was nothing that an experienced rock climber would have
flinched at, but to me it looked dangerous enough. Immediately
after the rocks came the ice, like a glacier. It was as if I’d just
crossed the border between the dry land and the frozen
world.

The temperature had dropped
again. It was as if an invisible barrier had been placed where the
rocks had stopped and the ice began; and that barrier kept the
colder air on one side and the warmer air on the other. I hoped
there would be no pit in front, somewhere nicely hid by freshly
fallen snow, where I could fall. The thought made me prefer the
rocks, even though in the end they proved themselves harder to
climb.

It was a beautiful sight.
Icy slopes, so easily treaded. Everywhere was white and soft. The
sunny rays of day were at almost at their end. The better part of
day had gone and now I was even closer to the top. But the peak of
that mountain was not my exact destination. I had been told that
the flower grew somewhere close to it, but not at its summit. I
felt that it was somewhere on the joining plains, where the slope
leveled off up ahead.

My insides told me that I
was close. It must be around here, I thought, but everything is so
white and frozen. How could a flower grow in such a hostile frozen
place? How could something bloom and blossom in the middle of this
frozen desert? There was no earth for roots to grab hold of. The
packed snow must have gone down for a least ten feet. It was asking
for a miracle and yet, with all my doubt, my heart told me that I
was close. It was an inner struggle between what was in front of my
eyes and what I felt in my heart. A clash between faith and my
sensibility.

Looking all around revealed
no flower, though my insides told me different. Then a sudden
despair rushed through me. Wings of doubt took me to a loft where I
could get a view of reality. What was happening? Nothing! There was
no flower! I couldn’t see one. That was reality.

As far as I could see there
was only the same beautiful snow all around. Further down perhaps,
past a few slopes there were some pines, but everything had stopped
growing at this altitude. The only thing here was the snow, the fog
that was now thick living clouds, and a little wind, but certainly
no Fire Flower. There wasn’t even any vegetation here. Nothing was
alive! Maybe if I dug deep enough, there could be grass or
something, but was that what I was supposed to do? Was I supposed
to dig for this Fire Flower? The villagers never said anything
about digging. If they would have, at least then it would have
seemed a little more conceivable, after having had a firsthand look
of this place. But finding it, even that way, would be like winning
the lottery. It made a lot more sense to climb down to where the
trees grew because there was nothing here.

Yet their instructions had
been specific. They had said that it wouldn’t be found where the
other things grew, but that one must go higher. Right below the
summit, they said. And thus my frustration grew, although there was
this feeling of being closer, so close, almost right on top of it.
That feeling grew and made me go insane. Finally I shouted – not
exactly to anyone or someone – perhaps to God. I shouted and asked
for some answers and fell to my knees, in total surrender;
inadequate now for the job placed in my care. I knelt there and
shouted all my frustration out to anyone that was listening... Why
was I in such a difficult position? It was so unbearable to me . .
.

Why was she going to die?
Why couldn’t I find the damn flower, and what was that idiotic
feeling, that feeling in my chest that kept on burning and
harassing? What was it, and what did it want? Was it telling me
where the flower was? So where was it? If it was telling me that, I
still couldn’t see it!

My shouting turned into soft
whispers, so that my questions could be heard without irritation to
the ears. At that moment, what was inside my chest, which had
driven me to this lunacy, grew stronger. The uncertain confusion
had ceased and now there was a calm surety in its place. It was a
given reality. I didn’t know where the flower was, but now I was
sure that it was there. It was a sure feeling of what I didn’t see,
but of something I could tangibly feel; and whatever it was, it
helped me to stand up again.

In the midst of what I like
to call “my communion with the heavens,” I stood up and began to
walk for a few paces. Every step took me through virgin snow in an
icy home. The only thing that had disturbed these white Elysian
Fields were the tracks I’d made earlier. I could even see some of
my tracks being covered with the falling snow. And there this
feeling was, taking me to the place, as if fate had held my hand
and was now showing me where to go.

The fog, now thick as clouds
fallen to kiss the ground, opened a path as I came closer and
cleared the way for me to see. It was a miracle! Although I had
looked in that place before and there had been no flower, now in
untouched snow it rose as a newborn in a desert of snow. It was
spiritual and even humbling. I was sure I had looked there already,
but there had been nothing. Now, as I held the flower in my hand,
hope in the magic came for the first time; all from this tiny thing
sent from God-bringing optimism for her. It was something
recognizable, as Jose Luis had said it would be. A thing of such
great beauty that in all creation there was but one; as an image of
her. Noelia was who it made me think of and I began to believe in
that flower.

The walk back to the village
was much easier than the climb had been. Nothing was impressive
now, except the thing in my hand and the experience I had just gone
through. The whole way up had been nothing but uncertainty and
despair, which had made the climb much harder; but now there was
life and hope. I still felt concern for Noelia, but it was much
different. I knew that everything would be ok, so now my despair
was gone. If time were measured by what we felt inside, I would
have said that the hike up that mountain had taken me days and the
decent only minutes.

The villagers assembled
quickly as they saw me coming and eagerly strained to catch the
sight of what was in my hands. When they saw it was the flower a
great tumult arose all around. Noelia’s father came out with his
hands in the air, shouting praises of acclamation and claiming that
he had believed in me the whole time.

When I was finally within
reach, the villagers rushed to meet me and carried me, as the new
hero, atop their backs and shoulders. I hurriedly tried to get
down, so that I could see Noelia, and when I did her father crushed
me behind his arms in an embrace that was surprisingly friendly. He
wasn’t usually that affectionate, and even a handshake made him a
little uncomfortable. I never would have guessed a man, bony as a
skeleton, could have mustered up so much strength. The hug took my
breath. Perhaps it had been the only time when Jose Luis had let
emotion get the better part of him, due to all the excitement and
adrenaline rush.

Indeed, it was a cause for
celebration, but there was still work be done right away. I had to
shout to remind the villagers that this was not another excuse for
a party, but rather to save someone’s life. We had to act fast and
begin the preparations so that we could give the remedy to Noelia.
There was no time now to stop and sing a song, especially when the
remedy was one I had no clue as how to make or administer. I had
only been the errand-boy, sent to fetch the main ingredients for
this “mother’s pie,” but now the village people were the ones that
had to make the stuff.

“
Stop! Let’s get to work!”
I yelled. They stopped their hero’s welcome, and immediately a fat
woman came and snatched the flower from my hand, which she crushed
between her hands and began to grind it into powder. It wasn’t
pleasing to see this lovely flower treated in such a way,
especially when I had taken such great lengths to attain it, but
such is the way with things that are of worth. I wasn’t left to
meditate on this, for Jose Luis pulled me in to see Noelia. The
last thing I saw outside was the fat woman speeding away while
another equally fat woman came to help, holding a cooking jar full
of some brew that would be mixed with the flower.

It was dark inside the
house, as dark as it had been the first time I laid eyes upon her
dying body. There was a simple glow from a little lantern against
the wall, just enough to see her face. She was pale and looked
grim, but she was still beautiful. I held her hand, cold and stiff,
yet the only hand I could ever hold. No one could replace
her.

“
Everything’s gonna work
out fine,” I said to her. She only shifted a little, delirious in
her fever. It was awful to see her like that, but still I held
strong. I knew the flower would save her. It had to.

Her father must have read my
mind at that same moment, for he came over and sat by me. “She will
be alright, the flower will help her,” he said. For the first time
I understood every word from his mouth. It felt nice.

Higinia came over too and
put her arm around her husband. He answered the gesture as she laid
her head on his shoulder. All would be fine now. There was no more
need to worry and I saw her smiling again, for the first time in a
long time.

About an hour passed, and
one of the fat ladies came in with a small wooden spoon filled with
some liquid. This must be it, I thought. She came to my side and
knelt, as I was beside Noelia.

“
She must drink it all,”
she said, “And you must watch that she doesn’t spill any of it. And
you must be the one who gives it to her. It is the only
way.”

Her charge to me was a great
responsibility, for she said that if any of it were spilt, the
magic would stop working. But she was asleep. How would she drink
it, and how was I to do it?

The fat lady, whose name was
Natalia, told me that she would lead me through it as I did it. I
supported Noelia’s head with my hand and made her drink as I
watched carefully so that the precious drops would not spill.
Fortunately it all went right in. She squirmed a little, but soon
laid still again. I put her head down on her pillow and waited by
her side. Natalia thanked me, and I, along with Noelia’s family,
thanked her in return. Evidently everything had gone well, so I put
my head on my sleeping Noelia’s chest and rested.

There was nothing left to do
now but wait. I reflected for a moment on how earlier in the week
I’d thought things had gotten bad and I’d fallen asleep drunk, to
wait for a better tomorrow, thinking that nothing could possibly go
worse, and not really believing that anything would get any better
with the passing of one more day. Now I thought about how much
worse it really had gotten and how thankful I was that it was
almost over.

Maybe now she would forgive
me, for how I’d been. Still, I was thankful, thankful that she was
going to be all right, thankful that it would certainly be a better
tomorrow, because she would still be alive and full of vigor. These
things I reflected upon, right before I fell asleep, with the last
of my thoughts drawn out to her.
* * *
The sun was strong and shown through the windows like a scorching
hale that slapped me out of my dream. At first I didn’t remember
what had happened. I think that for a moment I forgot about the
fire flower and Noelia. As I laid there, for some moments, the
blaring rays of light broke through my focus, while I tried to
figure out where I was and what was going on. When my eyes came to
a focus and I looked up and felt her soft chest below my head; and
then it all came back to me like a mist-breaking wave.

There she was under me. A
beauty. Her mother and father were already awake, staring at me
from across the room; both of them were sitting on a small bench,
without desire to wake me. I smiled at them and kissed Noelia’s
cheek. She looked warmer now (not dark as before), and she was
rosier like a half bloom – red with life.