Page 19 of Empty Heat
He nodded. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
I came up alongside him and we walked through the leafy shade and shards of sunlight until we reached the cliffside. “Anything upsetting you?” I ventured.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Perfectly fine.” I knew when to keep my mouth shut.
As he ran his hand through his perfect hair, it all fell back into place. He was quite beautiful.
An odd thought for me while working. I did not judge my patients. I praised them when it was in the right moment. I could find beauty in the most timid and unsure souls. But Callum actuallywasstunning.
I wasn’t supposed to acknowledge that. It wasn’t right.
His kimono fluttered around his strong legs. It was a shorter type, falling half-way down his calves. The pink flowers at the hems matched the color in his cheeks from being in the tropical sun for nearly three days.
When we reached the cliff, we stood together and stared out over the sparkling sea. Today it was aquamarine, the depths so clear you could see the sandy ocean bottom all the way out to the soft waves that glittered in the yellow sunlight. Everything was rich and bright here. Like the world had opened up to show its true geode colors.
The air smelled of giant titan sunflowers and hibiscus, of briny foam and trade winds promising rain. Only in this climate could such scents come together in a natural way. I breathed deep and could feel the power of the island fill my entire body. I hoped it was the same for Callum.
Small waves lapped the beach. Later, when the monsoon rains hit in the afternoon, the waves would become choppy and quick, rising up to show their bright azure undersides, the sea revealing its inner heart. But right now, everything was calm.
I watched Callum’s chest rise and fall as he took his peace from his surroundings. His eyes were no longer shining with unshed tears. The muscles of his face relaxed.
“I want to hear it.” His tone came out low, almost inaudible.
“What?”
“The Caribbean whistle,” he replied.
“It only shows up on instrument readings. It’s a fluctuation.”
“But what does it sound like?”
“There is a recording online. I can find it and play it for you. It’s not the real sound. It’s been altered so it can be heard by humans.”
“Yes. Please find it for me.”
I stared forward, loving the feel of his presence by my side.
“Does it sound lonely?” he asked.
“Maybe. It’s mechanical-sounding. But it is the Caribbean making that sound. So when you know that, you feel something wild and unknown just to hear that oscillation.”
“I love how you say that. That it’s wild and unknown. It makes me think of things outside myself. Takes me away.”
“I’m glad you enjoy knowing about the whistle.”
“Thank you, Lev.”
“As I said yesterday, I’m happy to tell you all the things about the island that I know. About the Caribbean.”
“Is it permissible to spend time with you?” he asked.
I hid my quick shock at the blatant question. “Of course. This is your time to ask for what you want and need. Nothing is off limits. Except the pools—”
