The Thoughts of Tomorrow

Andres

"There is an innocence in admiration; it is found in those to whom it has never yet occurred that they, too, might be admired some day." 

- Friedrich Nietzsche

After I was swallowed by the crowd, I watched Rosella walk away, hand in hand with Raysa. I felt jealous—very jealous. I was frustrated that our previous conversation had been interrupted just as our relationship was slowly building up, only to vanish the moment Raysa appeared.

"Andres? Why aren't you talking to Rosella?" Abuela approached me, noticing that I stood alone in the crowd. "Uh, she was stolen," I replied with a chuckle, drawing air through my teeth. Abuela nodded and said, "Well, if you want, you can go back home. I know you only came here for her." My ears turned hot. "Abuela," I groaned, hoping she would stop teasing me."Vaya, you can go home, but I'm telling you, you'll be missing out on all the fun," she said with a smile before turning to face a woman much younger than her. I didn't have anyone to say goodbye to; I wanted to say goodbye to Rosella, but she was lost in the crowd. I made my way through Señora Rosas's house, excusing myself as I bumped into people along the way. Eventually, I reached the front door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The night was dark, but the sky twinkled with stars—at least, that's what I thought.

Before I could unlock the gate to my house, I heard my father struggling to get through the front door. His shirt got stuck on the doorknob, and he was too drunk to notice. Frustrated, he kicked the door and shouted at it. Although the street was dark, it was warmed by the glow of lights from the neighboring houses. I thought I locked eyes with my father, and at that moment, I saw nothing but annoyance and anger. In terror, I ran down the street before any light could reveal my face. I kept running, unsure of where to go until I eventually stopped. As I observed my surroundings while walking through the streets, everything felt strangely familiar. I inspected the living and nonliving things around me and noted the street sign: Calle de Esperanza. The name gave me a sense of hope—odd, right? I was confused, but my thoughts were interrupted when I saw the most beautiful smile appear in front of me. It was Rosella. "Hey, you're here too!" she remarked, slowly shuffling over to my side, keeping a comfortable distance. I only smiled at her, feeling puzzled. Why was I here? Did this place have some significance? I still couldn't grasp why this street felt so familiar. I hadn't noticed until now that the beach was across the street, the salty scent wafting through the air. "Do you remember this place?" Rosella asked. I thought to myself, She remembers it too? I didn't want to disappoint her, but I didn't want to lie either. "It's okay if you don't—I mean, it was a while ago," she continued, pausing to look at me. Our eyes locked, and my ears felt hot. She cleared her throat. "We were seven or eight; I don't remember exactly. It must have been at least sixteen years ago. Wow, that was a long time ago," she remarked, tapping her feet against the pavement. Flustered, I could only clear my throat. Who wouldn't feel this way when a stunning woman talked to you, in general? My heart raced as I tried to gather my thoughts. "Uh, yeah?" I chuckled, exhaling once more while straightening my posture. "You don't remember? That's fine; I'm not going to criticize you." She chuckled, smiling at me. I don't know if it was because I was tired, but I couldn't distinguish between Rosella's eyes and the stars. At one moment, it felt as if the stars were flooding through her empty eye sockets, and I hoped that wasn't strange."No, no. I remember," I said, struggling to recall the details. Bits and pieces came to mind. We were younger, much younger, running down this street because we wanted to go to the beach. It was mid-summer, and the hot sun beat down on our backs. We were sweating, yet she was holding my hand. I remember how she looked back to check on me and kept running as if we were being chased. That moment is etched in my memory; I can only recall her face. I don't remember why we were running or why we felt scared.

Rosella glanced back at me, and in a quick motion, my hand was in hers. We started to run, and I felt as if a part of me was reopening to the world—parts of me I had never realized existed. I felt young again, just as I had so many years ago. I felt like a songbird reuniting with its flock. In moments like these, I associated peace with flying. And what's closest to flying? Birds or airplanes; it didn't matter.

As we ran, I put my whole trust in whatever idea Rosella had in mind. I trusted her, had faith in her, and felt certain. I probably looked blissfully foolish. We dashed down Calle de Esperanza, with Rosella looking ahead and me captivated by her short curly hair, which bounced with each step. I wanted to stop to catch my breath, but this moment felt too precious to interrupt. I was holding the hand of a loved one I hadn't seen or heard from in sixteen years. We eventually reached the beach, sand already seeping into our shoes. "We're here," Rosella said as she turned to face me, a smile on her face. "It's been forever since I've been here. I missed this the most." Her voice harmonized with the waves, soothing and warm. I could only smile, thinking, Oh, how beautiful you look, Rosella. I wanted to tell her, but expressing those words might ruin this special moment. Her smile was just like the one I had seen sixteen years ago, and her eyes glimmered like stars. "Come, let's sit," she said shyly, gesturing to a spot in the sand and releasing my hand. I followed her, sitting beside her. For a moment, we sat in silence, listening to our breaths and the waves crashing against the shore. After at least two cars passed behind us, I finally spoke. "So, how have you been?" I asked again, hoping for a better answer this time. "Can I be honest?" There was a look of discomfort on her face. I nodded. And she took a breath before responding, "I missed this place. I missed how it made me feel, how it made me laugh, how it made me cry, and how it made me smile. I missed the memories," she reflected, giving me a quick sidelong glance as she placed her hands on her lap. "Whenever I thought about this place, sometimes I began to think of the beaches, the palm trees, my family, the fruit, and my friends." She paused, inhaling deeply as if she were about to deliver an important speech. "But, Andres,"—gosh, I do love the way she says my name—"Mainly I was always reminded of you. Your face is the only thing that brought me back here. Your very being, to me, consists of the memories of the DR." She looked at me, tracing the number eight in the sand. I remembered when she used to do that when we were younger. She would always trace that number whenever she felt nervous or was put on the spot. It didn't matter where she was; she would trace it on her palm, on a table, on a leaf—anything she could touch. So she wasn't the only one who was nervous. I felt flustered and embarrassed to realize I played such an important role in her memories. I chuckled slightly, glancing at Rosella once more before speaking. "Thanks?" I said uncertainly. She chuckled and traced the number eight a couple more times. After about six more traces, she returned to the question. "I know our conversation was interrupted earlier, so let me start over." She paused, glancing at my face to make sure I didn't look uncomfortable. "How have you been? How is everyone?" I smiled, warmed by her effort to engage in conversation. She had always been like this, even when we were younger. She hadn't changed at all. "I've kind of been... uncoordinated," I admitted, sitting up. "In what ways?" she asked, mirroring my movements. I thought for a moment. "I haven't been able to think clearly. My dad's always making noise around the house, and I have to look after Abuela. The only time I can escape is when I go out with Flaco and the others," I sighed, turning my gaze toward the ocean. "Rosella, do you want to know something?" I asked, hoping she would say yes. She nodded, fortunately. I took a deep breath and said, "I'm scared. I am afraid of my father and worried about my Abuela. I fear he might harm us. I am concerned about the future. I'm worried about how my family will survive with my father spending all the money. I'm just really scared." Tears welled up in my eyes. Rosella remained silent, just as I had expected. I felt her move closer to me, and she placed her hand on my back. Oh, how I longed for a moment like this to happen again. I felt foolish and vulnerable, crying in front of a girl. Not just any girl, but Rosella. I worried that she would think I was being ridiculous and that I shouldn't be concerned about such trivial matters. I was probably overthinking everything at that moment. "Andres," she said softly, looking at me for a moment. "I want you to be happy." She smiled, and that was when I felt a spark of inspiration ignite within me. I wanted to make her proud and become a better person—one that everyone would be proud of. A happy person, just like she said.