~ Past ~
Seventeen Years Old
Ki rested his tall frame against the locker next to mine. “Are we still going to the river?” he asked.
“You bet,” I replied, stuffing my sketchpad and pencil case into my backpack.
“Good. I need a smoke, and you need another fishing lesson.”
I snorted. “You shouldn’t smoke, and I’m a lost cause.”
“That might be true, but I’m a stubborn bugger and I’ll never give up on you.”
I absolutely hated fishing but had a great time pretending to have no idea what I was doing just to annoy him.
We were interrupted by a familiar, high-pitched, female voice. “Hey, Emerson.”
I rolled my eyes at Ki before turning to face the girl who liked to refer to me as her best friend. I had no idea why because I could barely tolerate her. She was often rude to my real best friend, and that was a deal breaker for me.
“Hey, Chelsea,” I said unenthusiastically.
“I’m having some friends over tonight.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Jacob is hoping you’ll be there.” She took a step closer and whispered, “I think he’s going to ask you out.” Then she turned to Ki. “Sorry. You’re not invited.” I wanted to slap the smug expression right off her face. Being the object of Jacob Smith’s interest made Chelsea excited for me, as if I’d won the lottery and was going to split the money with her. And given that Jacob’s family owned Smith’s, a chain of jewellery stores, and he was being groomed to take over, perhaps there was a fortune to be found with him. I didn’t care. The fact he’d turned from cruel tormentor to relentless suitor over the past few years was confusing and irritating. He disgusted me in every way. All I wanted to do was hang out with Mereki and work on my art.
“Ki and I have other plans.” I scrunched up my nose and tried not to smile. “I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t be sure if she’d caught my sarcasm.
Chelsea appeared completely oblivious. “Well if you change your mind, we’d love to see you there.”
She barely even looked at Ki, whereas I could stare at him all day long. I linked my arm through his and ushered him away, lifting my hand to wave without looking back.
As we walked towards the school gate, he put his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned against him. Before long, he picked up a pebble, slipping it in his pocket as I’d seen him do a million times before, then he kicked the dirt as if showing it who was the boss. “We’re going to get out of this town in a few months and become somebodies, you know.”
“We’re already somebodies.” I smiled at the only person in my world who truly cared for me. “We’re best friends.”
“You have dreams, Emerson,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “You can’t settle for anything less than you deserve.”
His intensity was confusing. “I’m not.”
“You are destined for so much more than this.”
I grabbed his arm. “Has something happened?” I asked, a sick feeling swirling in my gut. “I don’t understand where this is coming from.”
“It’s nothing, Emerson.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his beautiful, expressive eyes. “Forget it.”
We left the main road and turned onto the well-worn dirt track that led us along the river.
Ki swatted at his face and arms. “The sand flies are shocking today.”
“Stop whining, you big baby,” I replied, swatting at my own face.
When we reached our clearing, I pushed a couple of pebbles into the ground. It was now an elaborate design stretching out in all directions from where I’d started all those years ago. It had taken on a life of its own during the past seven years. It had bonded us to each other and to this place.
Sitting down on the soft grass, I watched Ki bait his hooks while I unpacked my sketchpad and pencils from my bag. Years ago, my pebble art had sparked a love affair with expressing myself visually. Drawing, however, had become my focus and I worked tirelessly on improving my skills, pouring over technical textbooks when I wasn’t by the river practicing what I’d learnt. Art was obviously my favourite subject at school, and my teacher did her best to accommodate my constant requests for extra tuition.
“Come on,” Ki said, waving me over. “First, we fish, then you work your magic. Deal?”
He was ridiculously cute when he was determined, and I found myself staring at his muscular physique for too long because of it.
“Are you going to quit checking me out and get over here anytime soon?”
Embarrassed that he’d caught me, my cheeks heated as I stood up. “I’m not checking you out,” I lied.
When I reached him, I struggled to make eye contact while butterflies somersaulted in my belly.
“You were totally checking me out,” he said, gently pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ears.
I snapped my eyes up and found him staring at my mouth. The somersaulting butterflies turned into full-blown acrobats in that split second when our relationship teetered over the edge of the cliff.
Placing his hands on my shoulders, I stared at his mouth and imagined what his lips were going to feel like on mine. Instead of kissing me though, he spun me around so my back was to him. “Do you remember anything from your last lesson?” he asked in a voice that sounded strained as he handed me the rod.
When he looped his arms around me to take control of my fishing technique, I turned my head and looked up at him, batting my eyelashes. “I seem to have forgotten everything you told me.” I expected him to roll his eyes when I winked, but he stared at my lips and whispered, “Have I ever told you the story about the girl who made the river flow again?”
Shaking my head, I turned back to the river, disappointed that he didn’t kiss me but eager to hear another of his stories. I could listen to his voice forever.
Ki held my arms and guided my movement. I kept my eyes closed, enjoying being pulled into him as he drew the rod back and forth. I couldn’t imagine being more content than I was at that moment.
I leaned into him. “What was her name?”
“Miann. Her name was Miann.”
“I’ve never heard that name before.”
“She was unique,” he said. “You see, Miann was renowned for her beauty, but she was also kind and loving.” He leaned and whispered in my ear, “She was a lot like you.”
My smile widened.
“There had been a drought for many years, and the river was barely more than a trickle. The weakest members of the community, along with much of the livestock, perished as food supplies became dangerously scarce.”
Staring at the fast-flowing river in front of us, I wondered what life was like for Mereki’s ancestors who lived by this river peacefully before European settlement.
Ki continued. “The elders believed that because some of the villagers had not shown sufficient respect for the gods and goddesses, the punishment was for all. Miann couldn’t bear to watch any more of her kinsmen suffer, so she went to the riverbed and prayed to Iselele, the goddess of water.”
I chuckled. “You’re making this up.”
Ki pinched me in the side. “I’m not. You take that back.”
I squirmed in his arms, but he didn’t let go. “Okay, okay. I believe you. Miann prayed to the goddess Iselele. Does she answer her prayers?”
“She told Miann that if she wanted the river to flow again, she must make a sacrifice.”
“Oooooh,” I said, laughing.
“Do you want me to tickle you?”
“No,” I said, stifling another laugh. “What did she have to sacrifice?”
“Her own happiness.”
My smile faded. “That’s very harsh,” I said. “How does she do that?”
“She had to give up the man she loved to prove her devotion to her people. Believing in the greater good, she turned her back on the love of her life, and as a result, he died of a broken heart.”
“That’s the most depressing story you’ve ever told me. Whatever became of Miann?”
“She was so devastated by her lover’s death, she spent her days inconsolably weeping by the river. Her tears were so plentiful, they gushed into the riverbed. And that’s the story of how the girl made the river flow again.”
“That was a truly horrible story.”
He laughed. “Not every story can have a happy ending.”
I huffed. “Don’t tell me any more sad stories, please.”
“Life isn’t always hearts and flowers, Kalimna.”
I snapped my head around. “Who’s Kalimna?”
He kissed me on the cheek. “It means ‘beautiful.’”
“Oh,” I said, allowing the pang of jealousy to ebb away.
“Now it’s your turn to tell a story,” he demanded. “Tell me how we found each other here. How many years ago was it?”
“Seven,” I whispered. I’d told him this story so many times, but today was different. Our relationship was changing, and I knew I wanted him to be more than just my friend.
He nodded. “How old were we?”
“Ten,” I replied, enjoying having his arms protectively around me.
When I turned to face him, the electricity in the air was so palpable that the small hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Was he going to kiss me now? I wanted him to kiss me. Finally, his mouth was on mine, and I was lost. I dropped the rod to the ground by our feet, then quickly wrapped my arms around his neck while his tongue sought entry to my mouth. As the kiss deepened, he groaned. My brain activity ceased, and the only thing I was aware of was just how right this felt.
My Mereki.
My soulmate.
When he eventually broke our first kiss, he didn’t say anything. He bent over, picked up the rod, and resumed our lesson.
“Draw back, throw forward.” He guided my actions, and we both watched the line fly out and drop silently into the river. “I think you’ve got it.”
Unlike in previous lessons, he stayed behind me, continually brushing his lips over my neck. I always dreaded the tug on the end of the line, but now I had another reason for not wanting this to end. Would the spell be broken when we left the river? Would he regret crossing the line? Was I overthinking the status of our relationship?
“Stop thinking,” he whispered. Ki walked over to his rod and reeled in the line.
I watched as he re-casted his line and dug it into the sand.
He caught several fish after I bowed out. I sat in my usual spot on the soft grass while watching the world around me, unable to focus on my drawings.
When Ki and I had kissed, something inside me awoke. Standing up, I walked over to the pebble art and skirted its perimeter, noticing the subtle shapes that had developed over time. I studied the different sections, then took a step back to see it in its entirety.
Glancing briefly at Ki, a sense of calm strength washed over me. I was whole, I was happy, and I was strong.
To date, my art had predominantly been landscapes, but I had something else in mind. I wanted to capture the way I felt right at that moment. Everything was hopeful and bright, and I wanted to capture our story on paper.
Sitting down, I opened my sketchpad and started to draw. I felt possessed by something otherworldly, as if I couldn’t have stopped even if I’d wanted to. From time to time, my attention returned to the pebbles, noting the light and shade and the way the jagged pieces from the road blended seamlessly with the smooth stones found in the riverbed. I was inspired by the powerful way all the tiny pieces, collected over time, had come together to create something breathtaking.
When I was finally done, I could see myself in the drawing so clearly that tears streamed from my eyes.
“Wow, Emerson,” Ki marvelled, crouching down in front of me. “That’s incredible.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I see it the right way?” he asked.
I handed him the sketchpad. He stood up, alternating glances between the pebbles and the drawing in his hand. From the look on his face, you’d think I’d invented the wheel. Eventually, he said, “This is perfection.” His eyes never left mine, and my heart skipped a beat, maybe two. When he handed it back to me, he said, “It’s you.”
“It’s you, too,” I said in a whisper. I stood up and moved to his side. “When I started pushing pebbles into the ground, I was lost and lonely. It gave me purpose, and then it gave me you.”
He put his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into him. “If you ever feel lost and lonely again, always remember that you’re made of the strong stuff.” He pointed to my drawing. “And this will always be your road map back to the light.”
I nodded, allowing more happy tears to escape. He was my compass and, with him by my side, I would never be lost again.