The Thirty-Sixth Night

 

Well, the debris left behind by the storm had been cleared, and Nick’s sister had finally arrived. He told me that the news of the tempest greatly hastened her decision to come see her brother — to be with him before some giant wave might carry him away forever.

That thought made me profoundly happy for him.

He hadn’t visited me over the past week — he was on holiday — but we spoke often over the phone. He wanted his sister to meet me, but it seemed she was avoiding the encounter. To that, I told him:

“Listen: let your sister be by your side. All she wants is to kill the longing she’s carried for you. Your friends don’t matter to her right now. Perhaps they will someday, but not yet. And besides, perhaps there’s a faint echo in the back of her mind, a fear that I might be deeply loved by you, but in the end, just as hurtful as so many others in your past. Let her fill herself with you first — then, if she wishes, you can think about introducing us.”

He agreed my advice made sense and kept her close for the entire week. They wandered the island, cooked meals together, tended to each other’s wounds.

Then came a day, in her second week there, when he announced the long-awaited meeting between me and his sister.

I was nervous, yes. I wanted to make a good impression. The house was cleaned, tastefully decorated, and I planned a fine dinner menu for Saturday night.

The dog sat, one eye on me, the other on the visitor — ready for an attack.

And then I met a beautiful lady, her face unmistakably revealing kinship with Nick. She introduced herself with the polish of an English lady, a veneer that barely concealed an exuberant, joyful spirit — a lover of life’s brightness.

Nick has a remarkable debonair quality, though somewhat tempered by the scars he carries. Rose does not bear as many as he does.

As for me, I used every ounce of empathy I had: I acted as an English gentleman who sees no shame in a hearty laugh. I wanted her approval — for me, and for Nick. In my humble understanding, whatever good she saw in me would reflect upon her brother — as if to affirm his renewal, his freedom from old influences.

As they were about to leave, Rose said to me:

“I’m glad my brother found you.”

“And I’m glad to have found you,” I replied. “I was quite anxious about this meeting.”

“It wouldn’t have happened without your help. Nick told me how much you helped him reconnect with his family. Thank you so much for that.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for. Family is the most important thing, isn’t it?”

“It is, isn’t it, my dear little brother?” she said, embracing him with her arms and a wide smile.

Nick answered with a smile full of joy. Then she turned to me again:

“I was afraid to meet you too, you know? But not anymore — I’m convinced you’re the best thing that could have happened to my brother. More than a gentleman, you’re a man of honour. My brother needs and deserves that kind of company.”

“He helps me too, you know,” I replied.

And we laughed together.

Outside, the moon cast its light over a silvery sea.