Page 7 of Jamaican Me Crazy Mon (The Vagabond #10)

Llanzo’s Past

T he sun hangs low in the sky as I spot Keisha sitting on the beach, her presence like a beacon in the fading daylight.

Something inside me compels me to join her, to share a moment of vulnerability amidst the tranquility of this Jamaican paradise.

I walk towards her, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation, unsure of how to navigate the complexities of my past.

As I approach, Keisha looks up, her eyes filled with curiosity and warmth.

She smiles, and it’s as if a weight lifts off my shoulders, emboldening me to open up about the pain that has shaped my present.

We exchange a few words, and then we start walking along the shore, the rhythmic sound of the waves providing a comforting backdrop to our conversation.

With each step, my heart pounds, echoing the memories I’m about to unearth.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my voice as I begin to share the story that has haunted me for the past two years.

The weight of the words rests heavy on my tongue, but I know it’s time to release them, to let Keisha into the depths of my past.

“I lost my wife, Mara, in a car accident,” I begin, my voice a mere whisper against the crashing waves. “It happened two years ago, but the pain still lingers, as fresh as if it were yesterday.”

Keisha’s gaze remains fixed on me, her eyes filled with empathy and understanding. I find solace in her presence, knowing that she is willing to listen, to hold the fragments of my broken heart as I piece them together.

“Mara, my beloved wife, was a vision of grace and beauty that words struggle to capture.

She possessed an enchanting allure that left an indelible mark on anyone fortunate enough to lay eyes upon her.

Her presence alone brightened a room, drawing people in with her warm smile and magnetic personality.

Her eyes, oh, her eyes. They are the color of the Caribbean sea on a clear summer day—deep and mesmerizing, twinkling with a hint of mischief.

They reflect a depth of emotion that transcends mere words, speaking volumes without uttering a sound.

In those eyes, I found solace, love, and a glimpse into her soul.

Her hair, was cascading in waves of ebony silk, that framed her face delicately.

Each strand seemed to carry a lustrous shine, reflecting the sun’s rays as if it were woven with strands of stardust. I recall the countless moments spent running my fingers through that silky mane, feeling the softness beneath my touch, and reveling in the intimacy it fostered.

Her smile, radiant and infectious, has the power to brighten even the darkest of days. It dances upon her lips, unveiling a glimpse of her inner joy and illuminating the world around her. How I miss that smile, its ability to chase away my worries and melt my heart with its sheer radiance.

Mara’s laughter, like a melody floating on the wind, is a symphony of pure happiness.

It fills the air, echoing through our shared memories, and lifts my spirits in its gentle embrace.

I can still hear the sound, so full of life and love, resonating in my mind, a cherished treasure that I hold dear.

Her touch, oh, her touch. It lingers upon my skin like the gentle caress of a summer breeze, igniting a spark within me that ignites my senses.

Whether it’s the brush of her hand against mine or the warmth of her embrace, every touch conveys a tenderness and affection that words struggle to convey.

It is a language of love that only we share.

And her presence, her mere presence, fills the room with an undeniable energy.

When Mara enters a space, it comes alive with a vibrant aura that envelops everyone around her.

She radiates a warmth and authenticity that draws people in, captivating their hearts and leaving a lasting impression.

But beyond her physical attributes, it is Mara’s spirit that truly captivates me.

She embodies strength, resilience, and an unwavering love that transcends time and space.

Her unwavering support, her unwavering belief in me, has been a guiding light in my darkest hours.

Each memory of Mara is etched deeply within my heart, a testament to the love we shared.

Though she may be physically absent, her essence remains an integral part of my being.

Her beauty, both outward and inward, continues to inspire me, to guide me, and to remind me of the immense love we once shared.

And so, as I recount these details of Mara’s physical appearance, I am reminded of the depth of emotions she evokes within me.

She is not simply a collection of features but a manifestation of love, a beacon of light that forever illuminates my path.

Her beauty, both external and internal, is a reflection of the love we shared, a love that will forever live on in my heart,” I tell her all about Mara.

“I shut myself off from the outside world,” I continue, my voice wavering with emotion. “Work became my refuge, my shield against the pain. I convinced myself that I didn’t need anyone else, that solitude was the only way to heal.”

As we stroll along the shoreline, memories flood my mind, vivid recollections of moments shared with Mara.

I paint a picture of our life together, of the love we nurtured and the dreams we had woven.

I speak of her infectious laughter, her gentle touch, and the way her eyes sparkled with joy.

With each word, I can feel her presence, as if she’s walking beside me, guiding me through this vulnerable confession.

“I built walls around my heart, Keisha,” I confess, my voice thick with regret. “I didn’t think I could ever love again, that the pain would forever define me. But meeting you, something shifted within me. It’s as if you’ve reminded me of the beauty and possibility that life still holds.”

Keisha listens intently, her gaze unwavering. I can sense the empathy radiating from her, as if she understands the complexities of grief and the struggle to find oneself amidst the ruins of loss. It’s a rare connection, one that sparks hope within me, a flicker of light in the darkness.

We continue walking, our steps slow and deliberate, the sand warm beneath our feet.

The conversation drifts to lighter topics, as if we’ve both acknowledged the weight of my past, yet choose to embrace the present moment.

The ocean stretches out before us, vast and unyielding, mirroring the depths of my emotions.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, I feel a sense of release, of catharsis.

I’ve unburdened myself, allowing Keisha to witness the fragments of my shattered heart.

In her presence, I find solace, a glimmer of hope that perhaps there is room for healing and love in my life once more.

We walk in silence for a while, the waves crashing against the shore, each rhythmic pulse serving as a reminder of the ebb and flow of life.

The weight of my past still lingers, but in Keisha’s company, I feel a newfound sense of possibility, as if the future holds the potential for healing and happiness.

As the sky darkens and the stars begin to twinkle above us, Keisha reaches out and gently takes my hand. Her touch is warm, grounding me in the present moment. It’s a simple gesture, yet it carries a profound significance, a connection that transcends words.

“I’m grateful that you trusted me enough to share your story, Llanzo,” Keisha says softly, her voice carrying a tenderness that resonates deep within me. “And I want you to know that I’m here for you.”

As we continue our walk, the stars above twinkle with a radiance. Her words wash over me like a soothing balm, a salve for the wounds that have yet to heal.