River of Regret

 For the fourth time in as many weeks, Waveny and Chantal prepared to hike up the river in Vermont to the waterfall.

Not even halfway up and she was already winded from the vigorous walk over the rocky and wet terrain. Her heart was thumping so loudly in her ears, the water beating against the rocks sounded like faint whispers.

Waveny locked his eyes onto Chantal, examining closely the lines drawn onto her face.

“Don worry. Me nah gine let nutin bad happen to yo."

He had read Chantal's facial expression as anxiety about the rush of river water coming at their feet and he jumped at the opportunity to reassure her, as was his custom.

Chantal was worried, but not about the water. After the numerous trips to this hidden gem, she had grown accustomed to the consistent hail of water heading downriver. She had journeyed enough times to understand the power of the river and she knew she would be spared its fury if she stayed out of its path.

She was not afraid.

The truth is, Chantal was nervous. She had a secret to share with Waveny and not knowing how he would respond, tortured her mind each and every time they made this journey. Each week she promised herself that this trip up the river would be the day she shared the secret and each time they travelled back down with the secret still stained on her tongue.

Chantal had met Waveny a few months earlier in the bustling Market Square when she had been sent on an errand by her grandmother. Her shyness had squeezed her vocal cords so aggressively, all the teen was able to mutter when questioned by Waveny is:

"Me name Chantal. I seventeen."

"We de same age den!" He spoke excitedly. From the first meeting, Waveny carried on a monologue of sorts with Chantal, as her responses were usually limited to smiling, nodding and one-word replies.

Each day before she set off for school, Chantal would stand in the mirror of her bedroom and recite what she wanted to say to Waveny when they would meet on the weekend. By the time her exercise in confidence-building was complete, the armpits of her white blouse would be soaked with sweat and her mouth dry from nerves.

...

It was a long trek uphill to reach the waterfall- they jumped river stones with Chantal falling a few times; they maneuvered through thick bush, climbing under and over fallen branches. The pace was always quicker than she was accustomed to and when he sensed she was falling behind, he would stop and form conversation. Chantal knew this was Waveny's way of giving her time to catch her breath without calling too much attention to her fatigue. During these times, as her breathing laboured in and out of her chest, he would describe the different smells and point out what trees were bearing fruit in the area. He would show her how to mark the land, just in case they were ever to get lost and also all the different insects and animals which lived on the side of the mountain.

Waveny had a way of reading Chantal without even hearing her speak which worked out well because she hardly ever spoke. He immediately sensed her fear the first time a snake intercepted their path. They were both standing ankle-deep in the river water when he motioned for her to stop. He pointed his finger down to the water as the small reptile slithered past them both. She tried to act brave but he knew, without even looking at her, he felt the fear as it gripped her like a rope around the neck, causing her breathing to quicken and her eyes to bulge. He turned to her and spoke softly,

“Don worry. Me nah gine let nutin bad happen to yo."

He moved forward but Chantal just stood here as if her feet were glued to the river floor, hoping that somehow more scary things would appear out of the water or the bushes on either side of the riverbank so he could speak softly to her again. 

Although the goal of the hike was to enjoy the three-storied waterfall, for Chantal this was not the prized location. Her favourite spot of the hike was always the exceptionally large river stone they had to climb over. It was a massive boulder covered in mossy patches that towered over them both. The river had deep pockets of water on either side so there was no going around- the only way forward was to climb.

Waveny would mount the rock first and instruct Chantal to wait. She obeyed as he pulled himself up with steady hands and sure feet. He would then turn, stoop down and extend his hand out to her. She was always slow to take his hand- not for being timid. Chantal hoped to prolong the moment when their fingers would eventually connect. She examined the tiny spikes of hair running up his arm, the darkened spots of skin on his knuckles, even the old scars on the back of his hand seemed appealing to her.

When her hand touched his, she would stall for a few seconds before enclosing her fingers around his. There was something intoxicating about the sweat of their palms mixing, the force he used to grip her small hand, their brown fingers interlaced- it made her drunk with pleasure.

...

Sunday had come once again and the two teens found themselves immersed in the deepest valley of the mountain.

For Chantal, whenever they cleared the cluster of rocks and came around the corner to the tower of falling water, it was like the first introduction all over again.

"De handiwork of God." Waveny called it.

At the base of the waterfall was a seemingly shallow pool that gathered the surge of water coming from above. It was littered with rocks ranging from tiny pebbles to boulders the size of a small child. The space held a slight chill even though the afternoon sky was blazing overhead. The tight enclosure of trees and vines ensured that only thin slithers of light penetrated the chasm where the two had set up their picnic spot.

“Listen real close, yuh might hear de trees or even de wata talking to yo. Listen eh! Ah telling yo, if yo listen, yo will hear it.” Waveny said this everytime they took up residence on the rocks to eat the meal he had prepared and brought from home. This week it was a mix of callaloo, potatoes and green bananas in a savoury liquid.

Chantal responded the way she always did: with an awkward look, not quite understanding the concept of trees and water communicating with a human being.

She was a city girl, he a country boy. The stories he shared, his knowledge of the mountain and the river, were often lost on her. All she knew were the profusion of houses packed tightly onto a small plot of land in the island's capital.

Chantal had never seen a river, let alone a waterfall. Yes, she had seen fruit trees but never so many in one place, the ground beneath them littered with fallen jewels. She thought it was the strangest scent in all the world: fruit decaying into damp soil. The grandness of the scene before her made her dizzy each and every time they made the journey.

She bent over and tucked her head between her knees; the calabash of warm liquid between her legs threatened to spill over the rim of the earthy container.

The thunderous sound of falling water, the smell of the rotting fruit, the trees weaving in and out of each other as they fought for a spot of sunlight from above; it was all too much for her to bear- beautiful but still, a violent assault on her senses. She felt too filled up with admiration for the handiwork of God.

She cast her eyes over to Waveny, he had already finished his meal and stripped down to his underpants. He stood calf-deep in the river, his head perched to the sky, watching. His skin had transformed to a golden brown as specs of rich sunlight danced down on him. His hair- an assortment of long, curly strands of matted locs, hung like a curtain from the top of his head and wove in and out of itself just like the roots of the trees around them.

Waveny's hair reminded Chantal of the red, brown, and black beaded curtain which hung at the entrance of her grandmother's kitchen. As a little girl, Chantal enjoyed running her fingers along the length of the beads as she sat on the kitchen floor watching the old woman create magic. This was the only place in the world where she had ever felt safe- in the tiny kitchen and now, here with Waveny.

His breathing was a steady rhythm of ups and downs as he continued to watch the clouds, making notes on the time and possible changes in the weather.

With her eyes fixed on Waveny, Chantal began to breathe easier, the water did not startle her so much anymore and the battle of the trees and vines had simmered down.

“The time is now.” 

The message came to her in a whisper or a shout or maybe a touch on her shoulder or a tickle behind her ear or from the water on her legs or maybe the trees whistling or perhaps the birds singing back and forth. For Chantal the origin of it was uncertain but the message was clear- it was time to share her secret with him.

Waveny motioned up to the top of the waterfall with his hands. They were going to climb up to the pool that had formed between two rocks in the middle of the torrent of water. The worry lines sketched itself back onto Chantal's face. She peered up the waterfall- sharp jagged rocks, an overlay of shrubbery, and a slippery slope that seemed too steep to conquer- and she asked herself why had she chosen such formidable surroundings to make this confession.

Her body refused to budge as Waveny handed her the rope that hung down from the peak of the waterfall and was fastened to the vines up above.

This time, as he had all the other times before, he smiled and spoke soft words.

She could not hear him over the raging fall but she knew he must have said, “don worry. Me nah gine let nutin bad happen to yo."

She smiled back, grabbed the rope with trembling hands, and followed his lead. 

“The time is now.” The message came again, this time louder than the roar of water in her ears.

Chantal found a spot on the edge of the first ridge of the pool while Waveny dived down into the water. Chantal was not able to swim and so each week she had to stay on the rock and watch while he searched for treasures to bring back up to her. She called them treasures but they were just rocks he had retrieved off of the pool bed down below. She cherished each one as if it had been appraised at the highest value and smiled as he delighted himself, commenting on the incredible depth of the water. 

"Me wish yo coulda do this girl. Water real deep! It too deep to touch bottom!"

Each Sunday, she had fantasized about what it would be like to get into the water with him. Brown, wet bodies, submerged and entangled in each other behind a liquid portrait sketched by the hand of God.

But today, like all other Sundays, Chantal remained seated on the pool's edge and watched as Waveny did silly poses in the water to make her laugh.

Before she even understood what her mouth was doing, Chantal parted her lips and spoke, her voice a surprise to her throat as it came out.

The secret was revealed.

Waveny was about to climb out of the pool when he paused and stared at her. The edges of his mouth lifted and he tilted his head to the side. It was a subtle and gentle movement for which Chantal was unable to read its meaning.

Waveny pulled himself out of the pool and inched closer to her, slowly, so as not to lose his balance. He smiled and Chantal drew her breath in.

It is happening! she thought.

After all this time, finally, it was happening. Waveny was now inches away from her shivering body.

Chantal was not cold, just nervous.

He stooped down next to where she sat and said,

“What yo bin say just now? Me nah hear yo.”

When Chantal realized that her words had been lost before they reached his ears, her heart sank. Four weeks, four trips to the waterfall, four times they had held hands over the big, mossy rock, four Sundays she had promised herself she would speak her heart to him and now the rumbling waterfall had stolen the secret right out of her mouth and away from his ears.

Waveny stood at the edge of the pool awaiting her response. Chantal had none to give. Her courage has long since flowed downriver with the water and she could not muster the strength to retrieve it.

Instead of repeating the confession, Chantal smiled and motioned for Waveny to go ahead and dive into the pool. 

He did and she saw the outline of his body in the water as it glided down to the bottom of the deep pool.

"Wen him reach back up, me will tell him for sure. I promise. I promise, I promise." She said the words aloud.

Chantal waited for Waveny to return to the surface with treasures for her. She waited.

And she waited.

And she waited.