The Inside Diaries

Cardamom

A spiced fragrance hit her as she closed the front door. Cardamom? Maybe. Cinnamon? No—more like—she paused—nutmeg. She made a mental note to check back in with Matias before the day was over, grabbed her belongings, and headed out to scope the local market.

After circling the vacant stalls, she realized that perhaps no one was there due to it being the off-season. Alas. But out of the corner of her eye, as she made her way back to the familiar hibiscus blossom-covered stop sign, she spotted a beautifully eclectic tin van, its awning decorated with glowing string lights, its wares floral in nature. Walking closer, she noticed bundles of fluffy beige blossoms, alabaster-hued Arabian jasmine, golden marigolds, crimson heart-shaped anthurium, forest-colored palms, robin's egg blue hyacinth, and miniature plumeria branches in potted containers.

"Anyone there?" she called out, but nobody answered; she saw a tiny note affixed to a glass Mason jar. Honor Code: Pay What You Can. She smiled; how quaint. Fishing out a few crumpled billfolds, she placed them in the open-mouthed jar, debating what to purchase, if any.

And several minutes later, she found herself carrying two separate bundles of blossoms—one for Epicenter Pico No. 23, and the other for Matias himself. Once she'd arrived back at the condo, she placed one set of flowers in a glass jar, then departed once again with the other bouquet, for next door.

A knock, then another—her knuckles, flush against the door, shook just the slightest bit, as it creaked open ever-so-gently. "Hi," she breathed, as she found herself face-to-face with an elderly but well-built gentleman with piercing grey eyes and Grecian olive-hued tone. "I'm—and these are for you—" she handed him the bouquet, which he graciously accepted, chuckling.

"What's so funny?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, nothing," as he waved her in. "I was waiting for you to show up." Soon, she found herself in a sparse-but-clean condo, plain walls save for an ornate cross nailed to an adjoining wall. "My niece," he said simply.

"It's very beautiful—" and she fell silent once more, as he filled a jar with water, placing the stemmed blossoms within.

"Thank you. I assume—" he stopped short.

"Assume...?"

"That you're new? To the islands?"

"You...you could say that," she nodded, as he donned a canvas-colored fedora. "Where're you going?"

"Where're we going—" he corrected her. "Out."

Fifteen minutes later, they found themselves facing the gentle laps of sapphire ocean that faded into glassy aquamarine upon the pristine shoreline. Passing two bright blue registration booths for renting umbrellas, they set up shop beneath a green umbrella, absorbing the natural beauty of their environs. They sat in silence for a few seconds, before Matias rose, departed for some minutes, then returned with two glasses of freshly-prepared coconut water.

"Thanks!" She sipped, enjoying the sublimely sweet beverage.

"You are very welcome."

"Matias—can I ask you something?" She began, yet unsure exactly how to phrase it. He nodded. "You waited for me? For how long?"

"Quite awhile, my dear. A writer's journey is never linear, no?"

"About that..." she paused. "I have a story, about a beautiful, intelligent lady, a possible family member of yours."

"How lovely." And he meant it too. "I've always wanted family of my own."

Now it was her turn to be surprised. "What about your niece?"

He shook his head. "She lives in Spain most of the time. It's been years."

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't be. As you were saying?" His pale, silvery eyes fixed upon her own.

"Right. So, this lady, she's never had a mother—she did, but things—things happened when she was a toddler. And her father just passed. Matias, she's completely alone. Can you help her out? Show her the island? Be a kind figure in her life? Because I—I mean, she—I think she needs one. A father figure." She blinked hard, trying not to betray her innermost emotional turmoil, as he clasped her hand kindly.

"I will do my best."

Some hours later, after Matias had helped stock her condo's fridge with crops from his own balcony garden, she knew he would keep his promise, as she imagined myriad glowing string lights, and a dazzling view of the nearby town. 

And it was so.