The Heart's Zephyr

The wind’s always been my confidant. As a girl, I felt my heart burst daily with the joys of natural wonder, and crush slowly beneath the sorrow recognition of the inevitable heartbreaks that filled the world. Coming from a family with a preference for averted eyes and tension-stretched grins, it was the wind that would listen.

It made sense that when I came face to face with one of my very own heartbreaks that I would take to the road, and ride alongside the manufactured wind that so often left traces of brittle banyan and sea grass tangled through my curls. I could feel my stomach drop as each thought passed through my mind, like rain starting slowly and then turning to a monsoon. 

My intuition of the inevitable continued to lay itself bare as I sped down coastline. I had to walk away from Sid and all we had, and the part that had my face flush with salty tears was that I didn’t want to, and I knew he didn’t either. I was preparing for a lesson in letting go that not even my most trusted ally could help me maneuver.

---

Sid and I had met unexpectedly. I guess it always goes that way. It was near noon on a Saturday, I was home starting blankly at the sky, plunged deep into thought about my budding faith in our species and it’s wounds.

Staring at the mellow hues of turquoise and cobalt, I felt the soft shell of my body crumble into a million little fragment of solace. In that moment, I was still as water, and as the sounds around me began to mute as I let the sun caress my face into a light afternoon slumber.

At 2:04pm I woke suddenly and checked my phone. No calls, no texts, but there was an urgency that filled my lungs. Once my senses checked in the heat and the smoke began to pierce my skin and my body. There was a fire in the building. 

As my legs beat my mind to the door, my heart - ever open and clinging to the past - dragged me back. The photos, the trinkets, the proof of the life I pushed through to live laid in the confines of these walls, smoke beginning to lap at it. My eyes darted through the unit, rushing through the calculus of how to save my life while also not abandoning it. I grabbed the rucksack that got me here from out West and shoved in as many photos and mementos I could, caring not for the rips and tears sure to adorn them, but a quenched anxiety from the act of saving them.

And from there I put my life back into the hands of my wise limbs and bolted back out the door left ajar. From there, the last thing I recall is the staircase and the wailing sirens coming down the main street, and looking down at my rucksack fastened tightly to my chest. 

---

The jagged edges of the cool wet grass poked my exposed skin as I laid on the lawn out front, drawing in gulps of air. The sensation was what brought me to consciousness, followed by the slow pitter-patter of my eyes stretching through soot-draped lashes. Sid was standing right beside me, watching the units on the west-end fight the mighty streams of water that continued to dominate the brick and mortar. 

When he caught a glimpse of me beginning to move, he leaned down beside me to let me know the ambulance was right around the corner. Sandy hair and copper eyes, I had seen him in the neighborhood before. A passing glance was all I could muster in those moment, but now I lay here, exposed midriff and an old bag full of polaroids and seashells from home exposing a side I rarely let others into.

“What happened?” I mustered.

Sid’s kind eyes met mine, “You passed out right at the top of the stairs in the building,” He adjusted his eyes to stare back at the flames. “I almost tripped over you trying to get out of there myself.” 

My nose twitched and I felt the familiar sensation that I was floating off the ground. It was like I was looking back at my body, ash-stained and rugged, my stomach churning with shame in the vulnerability of it all. 

“How did I get out here?” I felt my cheeks inflame.

Sid smiled and played a one-man game of charades, acting out how he helped carry me and my bag from the floor out to the grass. It was welcome a levity. 

I felt my lip twist and push to the side, my eyes searching for any other target but his own. In that moment, the story of our building began to unfold. Crowds of familiar strangers all around the periphery pooled into sight. Faces held by hands young and old, as they stood witness to the calamity of the elements; lives changed in a few minutes more than an instant. 

The sky once crystal blue ravaged by waves of smoke and tawny. Fire fighters spared not a moment of bravery as they raced head-first, one after the other, back into the inferno. Sid sat beside me on the cool grass, our hearts thudding beat-by-beat as we let time complete the task only it could accomplish. My fingers grazed the rugged edges of my backpack as a knot began to form in my stomach and a thick cloud began to unload a most welcome tide of rain. 

Paramedics finally arrived and scattered all around us, attending to those whose fate was far worse than mine. My body was unscathed, and seemingly so was Sid’s. My eyes shifted from the calamity of my surrounds and laid onto his staring back. 

“Where are you going to go?”, I asked him. I felt a cool and welcome breeze envelope my shoulders; a refreshing embrace from an old friend. The wind tiled my head towards this perfect stranger, who without motive, helped me and my memories escape a sure hell. 

Sid pulled out his phone, and worked through a smudged screen to show me a motel just a county away. Cranberry colored walls with peekings of mildew, and chipped blue rusted railing to match.

“I’ve stayed in worse places,” I said with a smile to the ground. I could feel his soft gaze as I fought through the shame to stare back.

And in that moment, we didn’t need to say it. We got up and starting make our way together towards the El Camino. 

---

He was in room number nine, and I was stuck in lucky thirteen. The rooms were inoffensive, if homely. Lilac comforters and lily-laced pillow cases, their crinkled edges faded by the many attempts to cleanse them of their latest guests. 

We met the first morning after at the cheap coffee dispenser out in the parking lot. Two fold-out chairs and an out-of-place bistro table invited us to take a seat, and I found myself back to my regular program of staring out into the big blue sky. 

We found an unfamiliar comfort in one another that brought out a timid vulnerability that I rarely put on display. Sid and I had moved out here around the same time. He had moved to our building a few years back after a bitter divorce, and had committed himself to a monastic life during that period to retrace the paths back to himself. 

I found myself feeling light while listening to him. Beams of sunlight crept their way around the surrounding building, gently warming our bodies, as a gentle breeze relaxed my shoulders. I looked at Sid and saw the human in front of me, sharing intimate pieces of history without hesitation.

As we fought through the last bitter drops of our since-cooled coffees, he offered to replenish our supply. He stood up to the machine, and I found the corners of my mouth upturned as I witnessed him. My heart warmed like the rays of sun shining down on us, and I closed my eyes to take in the moment in the motel parking lot. 

I felt the walls I built inside slowly start to tremble. Ancient structures that withstood the test of time, now relics to observe like an artifact in a museum; their barrier once useful, now just a reminder of wisdom gathered over time. 

“One sugar, one cream, one milk, right?” His hand touched mine, and I my eyes opened to a knowing smile.

“Yes!”, my eyes lit up. 

“I noticed,” his eyes pivoted shyly towards the pavement. Somehow, that was all I needed to hear. 

--- 

The sun arched it’s way through the sky as we abandoned post to explore the surroundings of our temporary new home. 

As we made our way around cracked pavement and condemned haunts, he told me about his past; how he proud he was of his two baby sisters, and the tension that fraught his relationship with his stern mother.

Cool air filled my lungs as I listened intently, watching the wrinkles crease the corners of his eyes as he let his history fill the pages of the present moment. It was a breath of fresh air to see someone so at peace with their story. I felt a long-lost sense of sonder reclaim it’s place in my psyche; the way the recognition of this man’s path let me look back on my own with kinder eyes.

As we reached the corner at the last stop light in town, Sid turned towards me. We stood on the curb of the sidewalk, starting at each other in the dim lighting of the county’s post lights. He inched his out towards me, palms up. I laid my hands into his, the warmth of his soft skin sending a rush of oxytocin through my veins. 

“I feel like you have more to your story, too.” He said. An invitation to begin the demolition of the structures that I felt protected me. I thought of my bag back at the motel, and all the love I so fiercely encrypted that someone was now showing an interest in deciphering. 

We started the walk back, hand-in-hand. The brutality of the day before and the uncertainty of the future had me rummaging through the many illusions of permanence in my life. In this moment nothing was guaranteed, but the one thing that I knew was real was his hand in mine. 

---

I invited Sid to join me in room thirteen for take away. We found a thick stack of local flyers in the bedside table. A small county with big city options, we landed on Indian food. 

Sid made the call to the restaurant, and he exchanged his few words of Hindi with the hostess on the line. I could hear her joy as she relished in what I imagine is one of few small-town patrons who made an attempt to connect through language. 

“I spent three months in India on a contract back in the 2010s,” he said. “The locals respect any attempt to learn the language, so I have a few phrases up my sleeve to swoon the ladies.” A wink sent my way had me roll my eyes playfully back at him as he took a seat beside me. 

I made my way for the remote control to turn on the dusty tech-relic in the corner. The channels were all static or news. Neither of us eager to let the world in, I went to turn it off before the anchor’s scene switched to a familiar sight: 88 Pine Street, and the fire that ravaged it. The air in the room turned thick.

The entire western wing was gone, from a gentle sanctuary housing hopes and dreams to ashes. I felt my stomach drop as the map to the road ahead unfurled before me: there was nothing to go back to. 

I looked over at Sid, face directed towards the ceiling, his shut eyes but bursting at the seams. I stood up and ran to the door, an overwhelming need for air. As I opened the door, the night sky stood still. The sun descended, the wind sound asleep, and us alone with the future. 

Sid joined me at the door and grabbed my hand. We stared out onto the parking lot of the only place we could call home for the moment, and let the news settle. 

“At least you got a bag out,” he said looking out into the night.

“I tried to save the things that reminded me that life’s not all bad,” as I looked back into the motel room at the bag. “I just couldn’t run away from the memories.”

“I’d love to see them.”, he said. A tear streamed down my cheek, and a breeze blew past to interrupt its stream. 

Sid followed me into the room, and we sat like two kids at show and tell as I unzipped the rucksack, and in the process gave him entry into what was left of who I was, and who I felt I was slowly breaking out of becoming. 

---

There was no more room nine and room thirteen after that night. Sid and I moved into room seven together, a way to limit excess spending we said, the reality of our feelings swept under the rug to save face.

I learned more about Sid’s fascinating work, traversing the world and meeting minds and talents from unimaginable corners of the earth. I learned about the mirror he held up to himself, having accomplished the things he felt he wanted to in life, but with an emptiness that persisted. 

In return, I gave Sid entry to everything, just as he did for me. I told him about my joys and my sorrows, about my chosen family and the paths I took to protect my heart. And I told him about how the fire was making me realize there was an unbeaten path inside me that I was becoming more and more eager to venture through. 

But I had to go home, back to the place that I told Sid I hid everything from and did everything to escape years ago. It was true that I had promised my parents I’d go back, but in reality I felt the fear consuming me over what was transpiring between us. I felt the need for distance and for the space that’d grown weeds of comfort all around me, trapping me beneath. 

And so here I was. Windows down on the seaside highway, I felt the familiarity of the avoidance, and my mind stirred with confusion. The walls had been broken down in the past days, but the rubble still lay a steady barricade. 

It was a few hours into my ride, and I saw my phone light up with Sid’s name. My heart dropped in a familiar way, but in the moment as I sailed down the highway I felt a new pattern start to form, and I picked up.

“It felt different when you left,” he said, and I left the empty space open for him to complete his thought. “These past few days, they were brief but I felt like they were heavy. The good kind of heavy, one where things seem to be going so right that you question if it’s all just a delusion.”

I felt the lump in my throat return, as my lips quivered in knowing frustration.  

“Sid,” I started, and I could hear the way the energy shifted, as Sid braced for context, “I’m feeling myself start to rebuild the walls I thought I’d broken down and I’m not sure what it means. Now that I’m out of the city and on my way back home, I don’t know if or when I’ll come back.”

As I made my way further down the road I saw an unfamiliar sight. A rupture in the sky above me stretched into the unseen and foreign. A jet black cluster clashed with ivory white clouds painting the pale blue sky, both fighting for dominance up above. 

I felt myself wanting to be abandoned, a escalation of the pain that I was enduring after the loss of my apartment. In my mind, there was something to prove, and it was that nothing good ever ends well. 

In that moment, the rain shuddered violently down onto my car and cloaked my vision of the road ahead. I swerved onto the shoulder to let the rain pass and to finish what had started between Sid and I. 

The long silence interrupted by the torrents of rain that passed through the airwaves was now silent, as Sid sat on the other line pondering his next thought. I’d laid my doubts out for him to see, and awaited the fate I was certain was to come next. 

“Are you out West already?” 

As the words met my ears, the rain transcended into ever lighter taps on the the cover, only to come to a full stop. The sky had released the water it held heavy and guarded until it released out onto the earth, having completed it’s work and it’s duty in the cycle. The sun fought it’s way to the front to assert its rightful place in the sky. 

“Yeah, I’ll be at my parent’s place in about a half hour.” I replied.

“How about I come out there, instead?”

And in that moment, as the sun shone bravely down onto me as I sat on the side of the road, and the wind danced through one window and out the next, it was my turn to listen. I didn’t need to do this alone anymore, and the elements had conspired to let me know that it was time to let go and hold on. 

“I’d love that.” I said, my lips etched into a smile, delighted to be proven wrong.