You’re Not Alone

By FireWire

Story No. 14

Every Sunday, in the city of Valencia, Venezuela, a group of young men meet for coffee. This Sunday, when the second man in the group arrives, he finds the first man sitting at a table reading a newspaper.

“Luis, why are you reading a newspaper? Nobody does that any more. What are you going to do when newspapers disappear?”

“What do you mean what am I going to do. What are you going to do, Miguel? Doesn’t your family own newspapers?”

“Our newspapers are just a carry-over from my great-grandfather’s day,” Miguel says. “They are insignificant compared to our other businesses. Eventually we will sell or close them.”

“Well, I find reading the newspaper relaxing. I come across things I wouldn’t normally be looking for. For example, the article I’m reading now is about a woman who is sailing alone across the Pacific Ocean from New Zealand to Valdivia, Chile in a 40-foot sailboat.”

“So?”

“So look at her,” Luis says laying the newspaper on the table.

Miguel stands up, walks around the table, and stands by Luis.

He stares at the picture. “Pictures can be deceiving. One time I had a blind date with a girl based on a picture I was shown. The picture must have been photoshopped because she was ugleeeee! I never trust a picture.”

“Newspapers don’t photoshop pictures.”

“There could be other factors affecting the picture,” Miguel says and returns to his seat.

“Why don’t you look her up on your phone?”

Miguel shrugs and takes out his phone. “What’s her name?”

“Valentina Silva.”

Miguel thumbs his phone for a few seconds and stops. After several seconds, he resumes thumbing and stops.

“Did you find her picture?”

Miguel hands his phone to Luis.

Luis stares at the picture on the phone. After a few seconds he hands the phone back.

“Newspapers don’t lie,” Luis says.

“Apparently.”

“Miguel, I’ll bet you a Caffè Mocha you can’t get your picture taken with her at a coffee shop.”

“Of course I can’t. Chile is at the other end of South America.”

Luis resumes reading his newspaper while Miguel resumes thumbing his phone.

After a few minutes, Miguel says, “She’s beautiful.”

Luis doesn’t reply.

“She must be mentally unstable to sail a boat alone across the Pacific Ocean.”

Without looking up, Luis says, “She was visiting friends in New Zealand when she decided to sail back to Chile, so she bought a boat.”

“She still sounds crazy.”

“She sounds crazy to you because she doesn’t sail around the ocean in a yacht with a crew like you do. It sounds to me like she has nerve.”

Miguel stares at his phone. After a few minutes he says, “When is she going to dock?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Then it’s out of the question.”

“Why? You own a jet plane.”

Miguel thumbs his phone. “Flying time is eight hours.”

“You will be there in plenty of time to greet her if you leave now.”

After a while Miguel says, “OK. You’ve got a bet.”

“Have you ever been turned down for a date?”

There is long pause.

“Not that I can recall.”

“Then to make the odds even, you can’t drive a fancy car when you go to meet her. You can’t tell her how rich you are. You have to be just a guy on vacation.”

“That’s not a problem. I’ll still get a picture with her. Even if I have to pretend I’m regular guy.”

Luis resumes reading the paper.

Miguel arrives at his hotel in Valdivia late that night, but he can’t sleep.

The newspaper didn’t say anything about a boyfriend, but with her looks, plenty of guys are waiting for a chance. The timing is right. How am I going to get her to notice me?

The next morning he checks his phone to find out when and where she is scheduled to dock, but nothing is listed.

He goes to the front desk.

“There is a girl crossing the ocean alone in a sailboat from New Zealand. When and where does she dock?” he asks the front desk clerk.”

“Valentina. She is sailing up the Valdivia River and should have docked this morning. She is a celebrity you know. She comes from a famous family and is very beautiful.”

“I didn’t know that. I would like to tell the folks back home I witnessed this event. Is there anybody you could call and ask if she has docked?”

“That is all I know. You can take a taxi to the Port of Mulatas. That is where she will dock.”

Miguel takes a taxi to the Port of Mulatas where he sees a large crowd.

Miguel walks up to man about his age and asks, “Has Valentina docked yet.”

“No. We are waiting for her to arrive. She told her parents two days ago she would be here today. There is no concern. She has been sailing since she was a child and is an expert sailor.”

Miguel thanks the man and walks back to his taxi. He thumbs in a number on his phone.

“Jose this is Miguel. Good thanks. I want to locate a sailboat. The boat doesn’t have an AIS transmitter, so we will have to use SAR. I am in Valdivia, Chile. I will send you the coordinates in a minute. I want you to get me SAR images of the coast 30 miles north, 30 miles south, and 30 miles east. Call me as soon as you have them.”

Miguel looks at the taxi driver. “Jorge, take me someplace that sells waterproof cell phone cases.”

SAR locates Valentina’s sailboat on a sandbar 11 miles North of Valdivia at Punta Curiñanco and a half a mile off the coast. The taxi takes him to within a quarter mile of Punta Curiñanco, but Miguel can’t see the coast because of a thick forest.

Miguel makes his way through the forest. All this because of a picture and a Caffè Mocha. I let my imagination get the best of me. Now no taxi. Might as well see it through.

When he leaves the forest, he comes to a cliff. He can see the boat in the distance.

I believe I can swim to the sandbar.

He looks along the cliff for a path down to the water, but there isn’t a path. The cliff isn’t that far above the water.

Miguel takes off his shirt, socks, and shoes, rolls his pants legs up over his knees, pauses for a moment, and leaps off the cliff into the water.

I didn’t think about rocks. I was lucky. He begins to swim.

Valentina comes up from the cabin below. She looks down at the incoming tide that will soon take her off the sandbar and back home. She scans the horizon for another ship and then turns her gaze towards land. She is astonished to see a man leaping off the cliff. He hits the water, and after several seconds, comes up and begins swimming toward her. She watches his progress with growing apprehension. She goes back down below, gets her pistol, and comes back up.

Miguel drags himself onto the sandbar, stands up, and is surprised to see a pistol pointed towards him. As for the woman holding the pistol. The pictures lied. She is more than beautiful.

He raises his hands. “Don’t shoot. I’m a tourist from Valencia, Venezuela. I’ve come to see you dock. I’ve come to congratulate you on your historic journey across the Pacific Ocean.”

After a short pause, Valentina says, “Run that past me again.”

“I’m visiting Valdivia from Valencia, Venezuela. When I came down this morning for breakfast, the waiter told me about you and your historic journey and said you had just docked. I said to myself, “The folks back home would like to hear about this.” So I asked a taxi driver to take me to the place where you had docked.”

Miguel points towards the cliff. “The taxi driver took me to the edge of the woods there, said you had docked on the beach on the other side of the woods, and took off. I walked through the woods and saw your boat on the sandbar. Since I don’t have a way to get back to Valdivia, I thought maybe I could get a ride with you.”

Valentina stares at him for several seconds. “That is the craziest story I ever heard. I will be docking at the Port of Mulatas. Nobody knows I’m here. My radio stopped working two days ago. That is the last time I talked to my parents.”

Miguel shrugs. “I told you the truth. Why else would I be here?”

After a few moments of silence, Valentina says, “You had better come on board. Otherwise the incoming tide will drown you.”

“Thanks,” Miguel says.

He reaches into his pants pocket and takes out the waterproof phone case. He opens the case and hands the phone to Valentina. “You may want to call your parents. It’s programmed for the local area.”

Valentina smiles, takes the phone, and thumbs in her parents’ telephone number. “Hi mom. I’m stuck on a sandbar near Punta Curiñanco. The tide is lifting my boat now. “The phone I’m calling you on belongs to . . . ” she looks at Miguel.

“Miguel Reyes.”

“Miguel Reyes. And I have no idea why he’s here, but he’s here. Yes I’m fine. I will tell you and Dad all about it in just a little while.”

She smiles and hands him the phone. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to call someone else?”

“No. I will see everybody shortly.”

They are sitting on the edge of the boat watching the tide slowly come in.

After a few minutes, Valentina asks, “What brings you to Valdivia?”

“A common thing. A broken heart. And Valdivia was as far away as I could get. I’ll spend some time there walking around, seeing the sights, clearing my head, trying to put the affair behind me.”

Valentina doesn’t answer.

They watch the tide coming in faster now.

“What caused you to sail across the Pacific alone?” Miguel asks.

“My family is one of the oldest in Valdivia. My ancestors were judges, generals, successful businessmen and women, athletes, and politicians. My parents were gold medal winners in the Olympics. They both won gold in the same year, my dad in track and my mom in swimming. That is when they met. And there I was: Twenty-five years old and having done nothing of note my entire life. The future looked like more of the same. Since sailing was something I could do, I made the decision to do something nobody or not many people had done—sail alone across the Pacific. It was a hard and dangerous journey, but luck was with me, and I made it.”

“You have nerve,” Miguel says.

They set silently as the tide covers the sandbar.

“How old are you?” Valentina asks

“Twenty-seven. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Valentina says, “The boat is off the sandbar. I’ll sail it to Valdivia.”

A crowd is waiting for Valentina. The crowd is much larger than Miguel remembered. She is surrounded by people the moment she steps off the boat. He tries to determine who her parents are, but can’t. He doesn’t know anyone in the crowd and doesn’t care to know anyone. He is interested in only one person, and she is beyond his reach for the moment, so he goes back to his hotel.

During the night, he thinks about their trip to Valdivia. Valentina had a good sense of humor and was easy to talk to. They had talked about her voyage from New Zealand, growing up, things they like to do, things they had in common. It was as if they had been good friends for a long time. He had been careful not to mention anything that would reveal he was wealthy. He said he managed the warehouse of a small manufacturing company. She never said a word about a boyfriend. He chuckled when he thought of himself with his hands in the air saying he was a tourist who had just happened to find her. She will never figure that one out. He was impressed by how well she had handled herself that day. She was beautiful on the inside as well as on the outside. She had personality and intelligence, so why, at 25, was she still single? What flaw did she have? She was famous, but that wasn’t what she wanted. She had engaged in a rite of passage to show the world she had what it took to be a Silva. He respected her for what she had done. He couldn’t decide why she had asked him how old he was. Was it because she thought his tourist story immature or was it something more?

Miguel still has Valentina’s parents’ telephone number in his phone, so after breakfast the next morning, he calls it. He will ask her to meet him for coffee, get the picture, and be on his way.

“May I speak with Valentina please?”

“This is she.”

“Hi Valentina. This is Miguel Reyes.”

“Hi Miguel.”

“Would you like to meet me for a cup of coffee this evening?”

“I have plans for the evening, but my parents are having a welcome home party for me this afternoon. Would you like to come?”

“Sure.”

“Yesterday, there was a general curiosity about how I ended up with a man on board. I was afraid you had gone back to Venezuela.”

“With regards to how we met, could we say I was out hiking when I saw your boat? No one will believe a taxi driver knew where you were.”

Valentina chuckles. “We could say that. My address is Calle Bertoloto 800. The party starts at one o’clock. Just walk around to the back of the house. I have to run. See you there.”

When Miguel arrives at the party, he sees Valentina standing with her parents and goes over to them.

“Mom and Dad,” Valentina says, “I want you to meet Miguel Reyes.”

Miguel kisses Valentina’s mother on the right cheek. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Silva.”

Miguel shakes hands with her father. “Good afternoon, Mr. Silva.”

“Valentina tells us you are visiting from Venezuela. How do you like Valdivia so far?” Valentina’s mother asks.

“I like it. However, there wasn’t a word in the travel literature about Valentina.”

They laugh. Valentina says, “Let’s walk around and talk to everyone.”

“OK,” Miguel says. I wonder if she will introduce me to the guy she is going out with tonight.

The first group they come to are about the same age as Valentina and Miguel. Valentina makes the introductions.

“Miguel, meet Amanda, Isidora, Catalina, Nicolas, Gaspar, and Francisco.”

Miguel nods to each person as they are introduced. “Nice to meet you all,” he says at the of the introductions.

Catalina asks, “Weren’t you on Valentina’s boat when she docked?”

She turns to the others. “He’s the mystery man.”

She turns back to Miguel. “How did you get on Valentina’s boat?”

“Miguel is visiting from Valencia, Venezuela,” Valentina answers. “He was hiking at Punta Curiñanco when he saw my boat stuck on a sandbar. He took off his shirt and shoes, jumped in the water, and swam out to save me. When he arrived, the tide was lifting my boat off the sandbar, so he caught a ride back to Valdivia with me.”

Amanda looks at Miguel for a moment.

“Any woman but you, Valentina,” she chuckles, “might consider it to be a romantic opportunity.”

Valentina makes no reply.

“What brings you to Valdivia, Miguel? It’s a long plane ride from Venezuela,” Gaspar says

“I needed a change of scenery, and Valdivia looked interesting on the map. On a river, close to the ocean, with hiking nearby.”

“What do you do in Valencia?” Francisco asks.

“I manage a warehouse.”

Francisco slowly nods his head up and down. “I see.”

He turns back to the others and they continue their conversation.

Miguel smiles. If they only knew what I really did.

Valentina stares at the group in disbelief.

After a moment, she puts her hand on Miguel’s arm to let him know it’s time to leave.

A simple gesture, but it’s the first time they have touched. Miguel heart starts pounding. Emotions he has never felt before flow through his entire body. When he looks at Valentina, she appears as surprised as he is. He can see the touch has also aroused some kind of feelings in her.

Their emotional systems were primed for this touch from the moment they saw each other. The signals of excitement, attraction, desire are felt instantly. When they looked at each other, these signals were exchanged. They don’t realize it, but the emotional message has passed, going deep inside, bringing them together.

Within seconds of the message passing, she drops her hand from his arm. She regains her composure quickly and says, “Let’s walk around and meet the rest of the people who have come.”

As they walk, Valentina says, “Rude, Rude, Rude. They should not act that way towards anybody. It’s disgusting.”

Miguel says, “Don’t worry. It didn’t bother me. Who are these people on our right?”

For the rest of the party, the conversations are all about Valentina’s trip. Miguel is always introduced as “visiting from Valencia, Venezuela” never as a tourist. He likes watching her talk and enjoys listening to her conversations, and the way her intelligence, quickness of mind, and sense of humor keeps them flowing in an easy, natural way. People are attracted to her because she’s personable and beautiful, but he sees she has the common touch. He likes everything about her.

When it is time to go, Miguel asks if he can see her the next day, but she says she going out of town for two days. She asks if he will be in town when she gets back. He says yes. She says they can go to a movie in the afternoon when she gets back.

On the way back to his hotel room, Miguel thinks about the girl’s comment. “Anybody but you, Valentina, might consider it to be a romantic opportunity.” He can’t decide what it means.

Does it mean she likes girls or does it mean she isn’t attracted to me? It could be she already has someone else. I’ll to ask her on Friday. Not that it matters. I’ll get the picture and go home. If she lived in Venezuela, things would be different. We could date and get to know each other. But there is no time for that here.

The next day Miguel rents a small conference room at the hotel and works that day and the next. On Friday afternoon, Valentina picks him up at his hotel. They go to an early afternoon movie and then to a coffee house.

“Nice place,” Miguel says.

“It is. I’ve never been here before,” Valentina answers.

“Are things getting back to normal for you?”

“Yes for the most part. However, I’ve changed in some ways. I don’t know why.”

“I’ve read that a long and difficult journey can change a person in subtle ways”

“Well my voyage was both long and difficult, but I feel the same as when I left. But, I used to read fashion magazines, magazines about fashionable houses, that type of magazine. Now, I have absolutely no interest in them at all. Strange isn’t it?”

“It is strange,” Miguel answers.

“And another thing. I used to like my coffee black. Now, I like it with cream and sugar.”

“I had an experience that changed me like that,” Miguel says. “But it was a sudden, traumatic experience. When I was twenty-three, a friend and I went to a bar one night. Coming back, he was driving. We were traveling on a lonely, straight, road with a white line down the middle that must have mesmerized him. I woke up in the hospital with a broken leg. For a long time afterwards, I refused to ride as a passenger in a car. And, to this day, I have never wanted a drink of alcohol. It has no appeal to me what so ever. I believe your voyage was also traumatic, but you were able to deal with the trauma and overcome it. But still, it changed you.”

“What happened to your friend?”

“He was killed. He was my best friend.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It must be hard to lose someone close to you.”

“Yes. It was. I still think about him.’’

They drink their coffee in silence for several minutes until Miguel says, “I want to ask you something.”

“What is it?” Valentina asks.

“Yesterday, at the beginning of the party, one of the women said something to the effect that our meeting on the sandbar might be consider a romantic opportunity by anybody but you. What did she mean by that?”

“It’s nothing really. I just have a reputation for keeping men who are interested in me at a distance.”

“At a distance?”

“Maintaining an emotional barrier. It’s just the way I am. I don’t let men get too close to me emotionally.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I don’t want them to. Because I waiting for the man I want to be close to.”

“Makes sense to me,” Miguel says.

After a brief pause, Miguel says, “Let’s get a picture to celebrate. I’ll calibrate my camera.”

He takes his cell phone out of his pocket, adjusts it, and turns to the table next to them.

“Do you mind taking our picture,” Miguel asks the man at the next table.

“Of course not,” the man answers.

Miguel hands the man his phone, points to an icon on the screen, and says, “Press that icon.”

Then he moves his chair next to Valentina and says, “Take a couple of pictures from different angles.”

The man takes two pictures and hands the phone to Miguel. Miguel looks at the pictures and says, “Perfect. Thank you.”

“Now, let me get one of you,” he says to Valentina.

He stands up, moves his chair back to where it was, and takes the picture.

He pauses and looks at Valentina.

“Is there something wrong?” she asks.

“No,” he says. “I have to make this moment stand clear in my mind. I want to remember it for a long time.”

He smiles and shows the three pictures to Valentina. “Nice aren’t they.”

“Yes. Can you send them to me?”

“Sure. Just give me your e-mail address.”

They talk until Valentina says she has to leave for her evening appointment. She drives Miguel back to his hotel, and tells Miguel she’s free tomorrow afternoon if he would like to come to her house. Miguel says he would like to come.

After Miguel watches Valentina drive away, he walks into the hotel and sits down in a lobby chair. I should leave now, but I can’t do that. She has been so nice to Miguel the tourist. No use staying the whole afternoon when I’m going home afterwards. I’ll tell her I’ve lost my job and have to go back home right away.

When Miguel gets to Valentina’s house the next afternoon, he tells the taxi to wait for him.

Miguel rings the doorbell and Valentina answers.

“Hi.” She smiles and closes the door. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

Then she sees the taxi. “Why is the taxi still here? Is there a problem?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I received an e-mail last night from one of the men who works for me. He said our parent company was sold, and the warehouse had been closed and put up for sale. He said he was taking inventory and as soon as that was done, the inventory would be sold. The new owners are giving four weeks’ severance pay to everyone, including me, and that’s it.”

“That’s bad,” Valentina says.

“You’re right about that. I have rent and a car payment to make every month. I have to get back home and start looking for another job.”

“Will it be hard to get another job?”

“It will be. I don’t have expertise in much of anything. I’m going to have to start anew. I would go to school to learn a trade so this wouldn’t happen again, but I don’t have any savings.”

After a few moments, Miguel says, “It’s been great knowing you, but I have to move on.”

As he starts to turn, Valentina touches his arm. “Wait, I have something to say, something you should know.

Miguel turns back towards her.

She fixes her eyes on his and says in a calm, steady voice, “You should know you’re not alone. I’ll come with you. I’ll stand by you. I will help you make a new life.”

She pauses.

“And now you know.”

Miguel is stunned. She had dropped a bomb right on top of him. He had no idea she felt this way towards him. His parents wanted him to marry, and Valentina would be the perfect daughter-in-law. If he let this opportunity go by, he might never again meet a more beautiful woman with as royal a demeanor as she had. He had never thought much about marriage. But standing right in front of him — right here, right now — was the perfect wife. But he wasn’t ready to marry yet. Maybe by the time he was thirty, but not now.

Miguel says, “Let me think this through Valentina.”

After a minute or so he says, “There is another side of me you don’t know. You only know what I’ve told you. I can’t let you leave your family and friends to come with me. I’m sorry.”

He turns and walks away.

Valentina watches him walk away and leave in the taxi. She turns, goes back into her house, and sits down on a sofa.

After a while her mother comes in. She stands looking at Valentina for a few moments.

“What’s wrong dear?” her mother asks.

“Miguel has gone back to Venezuela. I will never see him again.”

“You liked him didn’t you? He was quite handsome.”

“Yes I liked him. I liked him . . . a lot. He had class.”

That Sunday Miguel is the first to arrive. He sits waiting for Luis to arrive so he can claim his Caffè Mocha.

Luis arrives, nods to Miguel, sits down, and starts reading the paper. Miguel takes the two pictures of Valentina and him at the coffee shop, and slides them across the table.

“Coffee time, Luis.”

Luis puts down his paper and picks up the pictures.

“She’s beautiful. How did you do it?”

“Just knocked on her door.”

“You did not.”

“How else was I going to meet her?”

Luis goes to the coffee counter, returns with a Caffè Mocha, and hands it to Miguel.

“I don’t how you did it Miguel, but you deserve Caffè Mocha.”

Miguel takes the picture of Valentina out of his pocket and hands it to Luis.

Luis looks at the picture. “Did you photoshop this picture?”

Miguel laughs. “Nope. That’s the real thing. When I got ready to leave, I told her I had lost my job, had rent and a car payment to make every month, and didn’t have any savings. And you know what she said?”

“Good riddance?”

“No. She said she would come back with me and help me get out of the mess I was in. She said you’re not alone, I’ll stand by you. I will help you make a new life.”

Luis gives Miguel a sharp look, picks up his paper, and begins to look through it.

Miguel sits there staring out into the past, at another coffee shop, talking to the most beautiful, wonderful woman he will ever know . . . thinking of what could be.

Another one of the group arrives.

He looks at the pictures on the table. “Who’s the babe Miguel? She’s a beauty.”

Miguel stands up, takes out his phone, and thumbs in a number. “Get my plane ready Omar.”

“Where are you going?” asks the man who has just arrived.

“Chile.”

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