The Inside Diaries

Lagoon

This place was all she needed, Melanija thought to herself, swimming lap after short lap around the tiny, compact lagoon pool. Situated within the resort she'd met Hesper months and months before, she considered herself lucky. Ah, the perks of being a writer. The somewhat angular pool of pale opalescent blue opened out to the remnants of emergent sunrise, apricot, butter hues feathering the open sky. A wicker couch seat lay atop a raised platform to her left as she finished her final lap and made to dry off.

For it was yet another beautiful day on this blissful isle.

Making her way outward to the rocky boulders, she heard the familiar roar of foam-white waves cresting upon the sand. Maybe, just maybe—she checked her phone—she had a few extra minutes to beachcomb. Search for sea glass.

Which she did, head bent low, her feet aligning with the edge of sodden sand. One glass piece here, another—

She suddenly tripped, having collided with another. "Sorry!" she cried out then gasped. It was her. Marcella. Marcella in the flesh—

"No worries," the taller, statuesque woman responded, her hand atop a prominent bump Melanija had known the presence of but had yet to observe firsthand.

"Congratulations," Melanija nodded toward her as the latter blushed.

"Thanks. It was a surprise—happened so fast—"

"Are you sure you're ok?" The writer fixed her eyes on the pregnant woman, who nodded.

"I...I think so."

On a whim, Melanija spoke again. "Feel like having some tea? The resort has a balcony lounge over there—" she pointed to a set of tables in the distance, bowls upon bowls of lemons atop.

"Tea would be amazing. I'm Marcella, by the way—"

"Melanija. Just—Melanija."

A mere ten minutes later, Melanija found herself sitting across Marcella, a bowl of lemons to their center. Using a knife and small plate, Marcella had sliced one, placing its rind to her nose and sniffing. "Super sensitive nose," she stated to the intrigued writer. "I smell everything. Like, everything. And this helps a lot."

"How are you?" Melanija couldn't help but ask.

"Fine, the baby's fine, kicking up a bunch. It's a girl," she added as the writer smiled.

"Raising girls can be a lot of fun, I've heard—"

"Do you have kids, Melanija?"

The writer shook her head. "But I hope to. Someday soon." She thought back to her last conversation with Fernando. She was on the fence, so to speak, for a wide variety of reasons (finances, the desire for marital stability, etc.). "Not, like, now, but—I'm open to the idea. And you've told me how the baby is—but how are you doing? As a person? Emotionally?"

Marcella mulled this over, sipping her warm tea, a spritz of lemon contained therein. "Excited and happy. But honestly?" She blinked, staring into her drink before gazing upward to meet Melanija's eyes. "Scared. Maybe even...terrified?"

"Why?" Melanija began to ask, but Marcella continued.

"I was raised alone by my dad. My mom was long since out of the picture. Never had any other young relatives. Just older. And now—it's Henry and me against the world. Can I do this?"

"What are you saying, Marcella?"

"I mean...my mom left a long time ago. I get why now, but it didn't make it any easier—what if I can't handle parenthood? What if I end up like my mother? What if—"

"Marcella." Melanija uttered her name with a certain quirk of her eyebrow as the latter fell silent. "You're operating on hypotheticals. Worst case scenarios."

"I know, but—"

"And you've got a whole community supporting you, that your parents didn't have—"

"C-Community?"

"Matias. Morgana. Hesper from the Greek Isles. Probably more, since this island loves mothers and babies."

"Oh. Huh. Right. I guess...as a scientist...I'm used to there always being a logical answer. To everything. And a bit of magic to smooth things over. Thanks to Henry. But. Parenting...there's no easy answer, is there?"

Melanija smiled to herself, recognizing a familiar train of thought she'd posited within her own soul, once upon a time. "No. There isn't. I think it's more...an adventure."

"An adventure?"

"With the love of your life. Henry. And a baby that has the best parts of him. And you. As you explore and enjoy life together. On this island. Away from mainland pressures of this, that, and the other extracurricular—"

A few more minutes passed as they enjoyed the verdant scenery below, sipping what was left of their tea. "Thanks," Marcella finally said as Melanija paid for their tea and they made to leave.

"For what?"

"For this..." Marcella gestured as they continued down, back to the sandy shoreline. "Pep talk."

Melanija beamed. "Anytime."

After parting, Melanija continued her morning jaunt through the island, a half hour's journey by foot from the resort to her intended destination, where she'd heard there'd been an unusual influx of a certain aviary species. Phone camera in hand fully charged, she was as prepared as she would ever be—

She gasped, reaching for her phone. Click—click—click—she snapped away at the idyllic, almost surreal scene.

Flamingoes, flocks of them. Bright pink, their beaks dipping into the sparkling water just so, the sky parting in the distance, allowing the sun's iridescent rays to kiss the silvery stream.