"It's 11:40, or close enough; the sky is as gray as it was at six this morning..."-- The City of Magnificent Intentions

Instead of wishing you could follow, you take action. You walk back to the bungalow with newfound confidence. Packing your belongings, you think of all the good times, the bad slip in, too. You may never know why he left...or if he'll come back. That's the hardest part. It always is.

The door closes and you stand looking out at the ocean, the limitless opportunities. You breathe in the salty air and feel more alive now than you ever have. You are free.

A taxi drives by so you chase it. He stops and you direct him to the train station. You arrive and search the station; for what, you don't know. PANAMA flashes across a board-- NOON DEPARTURE. You have 20 minutes to decide. But the decision is already made. The City Speaks. You just have to listen. It doesn't want you to leave, to go home. So you don't. You just wander free...for now.

What adventures will this train lead you to? What will happen when you get to Panama? Who will you meet? How will you move on? Or will you...........???????????????

A woman greets you as you step onto the train. "Hola!" she says. You smile, "Hola." You settle in and pull out a book, but before you start reading you realize: Home is where the heart is. You are always Home.

Opening the door to the bungalow, a packed suitcase greets you. He emerges from the bedroom with another suitcase and a duffle bag. You're crying about the encounter with Robbie and just want to talk.

He says, "I'm leaving you" -- stoically. Unmoving. You stand here, shaking. The blood drains from your head to your feet, leaving you feeling faint.

Why me?
        Why now?
                Why this?
                                                                                                                What did I do?
                                                                                                  What did I not do?
                                                                                       What is happening?

These questions point to no answers as he walks out the door, leaving you behind.

*40 minutes later*

You are sitting on the couch leafing through your journal. Throughout the years, you've collected quotes-- a lot from your time in graduate school back in Wisconsin. You come across Barthes's "Work to Text" excerpt. You scribbled something about texts, how they are experienced, evolving, indeterminate. You think about your current situation. It's just another chunk of text, another chapter in your life-- your work. A work is fixed. You equate this to life...things happen as they are supposed to, right?

*20 minutes later*

Disbelief has taken over. You go for a walk to clear your mind, to let it all go. A man on the street asks directions to the airport {IN ENGLISH} and you point him in the right direction, desperately wishing to follow his lead.

Robbie...?...! It can't be. Someone from home, a familiar place.

You follow the cap through the crowded streets. Pushing past locals, they --->GLARE<--- at you, screaming harshly. They don't understand that you don't understand what they want you to understand. Understood?

He stops at the smoke shop. Typical Robbie. There's no doubt. This is the guy who took you to Shamrock Bar back in Wisconsin.


Image from http://www.thedailypage.com/daily/article.php?article=40489


ASIDE: The first time you truly got trashed-- puking green for what seemed liked days. Nonetheless, the best St. Patrick's Day ever. Reminds you of the novel you read in college lit...what's it called?  - - - - Resurrection Man, that's it. Shamrock Bar...the place where all that shit went down.

Today's Resurrection Man: Robbie O'Brady. Back from the dead...and in all places...

You walk in after him. He's buying some incense and turns to leave. You leap out from behind a shelf, startling him. The brown eyes pierce you. The brows furrow, searching your face for clues. He watches eyes well with tears, a lip quiver. :'( He asks, "Is everything alright?" You respond, "I just wanted you to be Robbie," and continue staring, unable to move. He apologizes (I'm sorry), leaving you alone. The man behind the counter shrugs; no solace. He doesn't understand.

Walking past a run-down park, you watch a group of teenage boys playing football. You stop and sit.

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Finally, you walk into the place that you have waited to see come together for what seemed to be an eternity. You close your eyes, breathe in, breathe out, open your eyes, and immediately know you’re home… Finally, it is game day and you’re located in the happiest place on the planet, Doak Campbell Stadium.

 

You miss this. The college days. This place-- where you are RIGHT NOW-- is so beautiful, yet you find yourself wanting to leave it day after day. You want to stay with him, but don't know how much more you can take. Someday you hope this place will feel like home...BECOME home. Your current home (away from Costa Rica), will become the foreign place. Is that the goal?

 

One of your favorite pictures from college pops into your head.

You reminisce about this day.....the day you both shared your first kiss.....a game day!

 

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Suddenly a ball whizzes over your head wwwzzz. You look down at your watch; 20 minutes have passed. The boys stare at you-- wanting you to leave. You keep walking down the street-------->>, but pause                              when you see a Seminole baseball cap moving through the crowd...? You long for it to be someone from home, that soon-to-be foreign place.



                                             "Look around," she says. "What do you see?"

 

                                                                                          t

                             Questions will arise with no sign of answers. You are l          . 

                                                                                                                           s

                                                                                                                      o

                                                                  In a city that speaks.

 

                             But you can't understand what she says...what her people say.

                                                                                                                                         

 

 

 Children ride by on a bike. You wonder where they are going--where they are coming from. So you ask,

 

"Where are you going?"

 

This is your answer: ____________.

 

Silence.

They continue their ride to nowhere.

 

 

 You walk on the black sand beach. Surfers carve through the water; they speak the language of the ocean. You want to understand so you ask,

 

"Where did you learn the language of the ocean?"

This is your answer: Na-ci con el-la.

Or at least that's what it sounds like.

Foreign language is just as good as silence.

 

Your frustration rises. Looking into the distance, you see a dog.

 

 

Tossing a coconut near him, he brings it back to you. He looks content, licking the water. You breathe in the salty air, finally feeling at ease. This new friend barks as a car drives by and chases it--leaving you A L O N E.

 

You wonder why you agreed to come here with him. Will everything be okay?

 

On the walk home, you see a simple sign. It says, "Si." Yes. You think back to your question.

 

The city has spoken.