Even One Connection

I feel lucky to be at an enormous mansion standing proudly on the edge of a small seaside cliff. The floors are made of smooth mirror-like stone and there’s a wide ocean view dotted with sailboats. It’s starting to get dark, and the lights just discreetly turned on. All around me, fancily dressed people are enjoying cocktails, laughing at each other’s jokes, and closing business deals. White sand beaches stretch out lazily below us, and some of the wedding invitees are playing in the waves, under the gentle orange rays of the evening sun.

I do try to talk to some people around me. They tell me about their businesses and investments, but the conversations don’t last long. I guess it’s a great idea to get into commodities right now, or maybe it’s not, and I should start my own tech business. It’s all upbeat-sounding and seems appealing, but I feel there’s no place for me to latch on. I still remember my dad telling me “Make connections, there’s a lot of influential people in attendance. Even one connection would be great.” I’d like to, but it somehow feels lonely amid the well-tended plants, the richly appointed furnishings, infinity pools with sapphire blue flooring, and gently splashing fountains. I almost lean back against the wall behind me, until someone stops me. The wall is covered by one giant priceless piece of modern art.

Children run past me, and I envy them their still carefree existence. Why is it that when you grow up, you can’t simply just enjoy yourself in a beautiful place like this?

Then I’m hanging out by the dance floor watching the salsa dancing couples, and I’m getting swept away by their energy. Still, I’m reminded I’m alone with no one to talk to. I find myself wishing the evening would be over, even though that means I must then leave this wonderful place. It feels like a wasted opportunity, but as I wait for the minutes to grind away, I wish I could press forward the arrow of time.

Then my eyes catch a glimpse of something. A blue butterfly that no one else seems to see but me.

It flies and flies, until finally it lands near you.

Your large and intimidatingly beautiful eyes latch onto my gaze, and I’m tempted to look away, but I’m caught. I keep looking, and then you smile so brightly for me. And by the way you’re sitting, I can tell you’re feeling lonely and out of place too.

I make my way over to you, and we start chatting. We're college freshmen living in different countries. You're from Columbia, I'm from the USA, and we're meeting here in Chile. You’re worried your English isn’t good, but I tell you it’s fine. I try to say a few words in Spanish, and I make you laugh. Then we walk over to the bar and get some drinks. As I finish my drink, my head starts to feel warm and I’m moving more clumsily than usual. Is it that I’m not used to drinking, or is it your presence that’s making me feel this way? You tell me how you always wanted to be a professional dancer, but you’re studying biology instead, and your parents want you to be a doctor. I tell you how I always wanted to be an artist, but I’m studying business instead.

I take you by the hand and bring you to the dance floor with me, eager to see you show off your moves. You teach me the steps of salsa, and I step on your feet a few times, but you forgive me. Then as I try to lead you in the dance, you move with a vibrant energy of your own that makes even my most clumsy directions look like magic. You’re having fun, and you make it look easy. The colored lights of the party are shining in your eyes, and with the way you’re smiling at me, it makes me feel like we’re a couple just like all the others.

Now instead of trying to speed up time, I’m trying to slow it down, but it never listens, does it? In the back of my mind, I know that we’ll have to separate when the evening ends. Then soon after that, we’ll have to go back to our own countries, and we might never see each other again. That’s when we stop dancing for a moment, and we share a conspiratorial look. We know we shouldn’t, but I’m certain that we both had the same idea. Looking around, I see my parents, and you see yours. They’re having fun dancing just like we are. Surely, they won’t miss us for a while, and they’ll think we’re just somewhere else around the mansion.

I lead you down the steps to the beach and we walk hand in hand on the white sands. I can feel your hand starting to sweat in mine. What started as just a simple walk down the beach turns into a longer walk. Soon, we both get nervous, and we stop talking. My heart beats faster and faster as we start to get further away from the mansion. We’re not quite sure where we’re going. There’s tropical forest to our left and the infinity of the Pacific ocean to our right.

We’re getting far, should we turn back? I think. Then I look into your eyes, and you know what I’m asking, even without words.

You shake your head no.

We pass by a beach resort where tourists are lying down lazily in beach chairs and enjoying the sunset. Then after a while we walk past a marina and small shops on the shore. A radio is playing, and the shopkeepers are relaxing in outdoor chairs. We continue walking, and again there’s more tropical forest beside us.

Eventually we come upon a tiny white cottage by the beach, with a porch and flaking white paint. We walk to the front door, and we see no car parked anywhere. The lights are all turned off, but the door is ajar. Inside, we call out to see if anyone is there, but no one answers.

Surely the owners won't mind if we use the cottage only for a short time.

We get inside, I close the door, and I block it with a chair. Turning around and facing you, I can feel my heart frantically trying to beat its way out of my chest. In front of us, the last strong rays of the sunset are shining through a large window facing the ocean.

When I see the sunset reflected in your eyes, I feel like time stops and stutters, and restarts, and rewinds back to the same moment forever. I dare not even touch you, for fear of disturbing or sending the smallest ripple through this moment. Eventually I break out of it, and I hungrily wrap my arms around you.