The Green Ray

Ernest sat in his armchair with his legs covered by a wool blanket that protected him from the breeze passing through the open door. It was his favorite moment of the day. He was too weak to walk now, so each evening he asked Anita to open the terrace door and place him before it. Behind him was the bedroom, before him the most beautiful sunsets of the west coast. He spent the first half hour in silence listening to the concert delivered to him free of charge. He loved hearing the wind sneaking among the flowers in the yard, listening to the rustle of eucalyptus leaves or the subtle hiss of air through pine needles. All the wind's murmur was accompanied by the sound of the ocean and its waves crashing against the rocks like gongs being struck. Instead of being disturbed by the sounds of cars on the road at the bottom of the valley or by the music and voices of passersby, Ernest delighted in this cacophony as if it were the world's most prestigious symphony.

Ernest sank into a deep sleep only after the sun cast a green ray for just a moment before disappearing entirely at the ocean's edge. But he did not sleep for long, for a hand tapped his shoulder.

"Old man, old man. Wake up, please. I have something for you," a feminine voice said.

The old man woke in fright. "Who are you? Has something happened to Anita?"

"Ernest, don't be alarmed. I'm here for you. Anita is fine, but she doesn't know I'm here and she can't see me. Probably she wouldn't understand who I am. My name is Evie," she continued, smiling at him, but was immediately interrupted by the old man.

"What do you mean Anita doesn't know you're here? What do you want from me? To rob me? Be my guest, take what you want, but leave me alone. I'll call Anita to give you some money and show you the way out. ANITA, COME UP PLEASE," Ernest shouted in a weakened voice.

The sound of the caregiver's hurried footsteps echoed up the stairs, then the door opened.

"What is it, Mr. Ernest?” Anita rushed into the room. She looked at the old man ignoring Evie completely and then asked him: “Are you cold? Should I bring you another blanket?"

"She can't see me," Evie whispered softly to him.

"Uh, no no, nothing, I apologize Anita. I must have dozed off and thought there was someone in the room with me.” Ernest felt ashamed to have disturbed the good lady who attended to him, yet at the same time he was troubled by the situation.

"It's no problem, sir, would you like me to stay and talk with you?"

"Thank you, Anita! Let me enjoy the evening a bit more, and I'll call you when I want you to put on my music. And then I'd be very pleased to talk."

Anita agreed with a subtle nod and left the room.

"I'm sorry for doubting you," Ernest began once he heard Anita's footsteps fading away. "Who are you? You said you came for me, didn't you? Has my time come?"

"I came for you, yes, but not to take you away forever. I want to kidnap you only for a few moments." She noticed the fear in his eyes. "Oops, I'm sorry, I'm a bit clumsy," the young woman blushed. "I often struggle to find the right words, even though I've done this many times before. It's hard to explain what I do and who I am," Evie sat on the bed and let out a long sigh. "It's like explaining a television remote when all that existed was radio." She fell back on the bed, covering her face with a pillow to hide her embarrassment.

"Well, I don't think I understood much, but that’s probably normal. Well then, what have you come here to do? I'm old and I've experienced a lot. If you explain it well to me, I can tell you how you might better approach others." Ernest finished speaking and smiled wryly at the woman.

"I'm here to revisit the past with you. I find this is best done via the passion of each person, it's their own special language with which to understand.Most of the time my job is easy, but it becomes difficult when my mission involves people passionate about geology or electronic circuits as you can imagine." She stopped speaking, but continued to gaze at the old man, as if lost in her own thoughts.

“Oh, I see, I’m getting scrooged” Ernest muttered with a sardonic laugh. “But what good is revisiting the past? It would only sadden me further. I’m hardly cheerful as is. Sure, there were beautiful moments, like in any life, but they’re gone. Now I’m old and alone. Since my wife died, no one visits a gloomy old man.”

“You know, Ernest, life ends only with the last breath. Your grandmother always said that, yet you’ve forgotten. I’m here because you’re a grumpy old man, and revisiting the past might help.”

“And how does this work?"

"I’ve selected four songs that will transport you to the past. Each song will take you to an important moment in your life."

She rose, went to the sound system, took a record he did not recognize from the shelf, and handed the cover to Ernest. He observed that the four songs were among his favorites. She then loaded the turntable and started it.

A profound silence fell. The needle crackled softly on the record, and at the first note, they departed on their journey.

A World Gone By

Song One: Life and Death by Balanescu Quartet

Ernest and Evie were in the barn of his grandmother's sister, in the yard next to the house where he had grown up. It was a large space filled with various rudimentary farming implements: an iron plow that was fitted behind oxen, a harrow for breaking up the soil, pitchforks, rakes, a wooden loom, and other tools now forgotten in museums. In the room, women and men stood around a heap of corn cobs, and each took them one by one and removed the corn kernels from it into the enameled metal vessel in front of them. They spoke in small groups or all together, laughed, teased one another, and now and then someone would raise their voice at a neighbor in protest. The children also worked, but spent more time playing, launching the corn cobs like rockets over the heads of the adults. Some landed in the loft where hay for the animals was stored.

"This world has always fascinated me, Evie. It followed me everywhere. Strange, isn't it? I fled from it as a teenager, yet always remained tethered to it."

"Anyone would feel at home in the middle of such people." Evie confided.

"I remember this moment well. It's one of many. We would all gather as family with neighbors, and we would work. Today it was at my aunt's house, tomorrow at the neighbor's, then at our house. We were poor. We didn't have much, but we had each other, for better and for worse. Everyone was in everyone else's business, but no one went without food or died alone. We helped each other. No, they helped each other," Ernest lowered his gaze and sighed deeply. "I left them all behind."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, old man. Don't you see what a beautiful life and family you have?" Evie tried to comfort him. "You know as well as I do that this world has passed. You didn't leave it behind alone. Modernization left them behind too. The elders died. Your parents worked in factories, and then came technology that drove you all even further apart."

In the room there was great commotion. Everyone began gathering what was in front of them. One of the men shouted for plum brandy to be brought and urged those beside him to take out the instruments to end the evening properly. Suddenly everything was arranged and they began to sing, dance, and drink. In the middle of it all was a small woman with a headscarf on her head, dancing with two men and singing from the depths of her lungs.

"She's my grandmother," Ernest expressed, with tears in his eyes. "The woman with the greatest desire to live. Her own father died in the war. The poor woman was married at fifteen, and then her husband died too, five years later. Leaving her alone with a four-year-old child. And do you see, Evie, how much vivacity she has, with how much joy she lives each moment, how deeply she speaks each word?” The old man paused for a moment in full fascination, then continued, "Her desire for life has always inspired me. I expected this song to bring me to her. The lyrics speak of this thirst for life that can only be stopped by death. She lived and embraced life as it was, with its good and its many hardships, until her last breath."

"I'm sorry we have to leave, Ernest. Your grandmother was an extraordinary being. Let's leave her with the others and continue our journey."

Ernest looked at Evie and then said to her:

"Alright, let's go. The traveler is well served by the road. He smiled with a melancholy gaze, and his face lit up as he remembered the next song. "Are we going to see Christine?"

Evie’s eyes twinkled. "Let's go," and the two of them disappeared into the mist.

Christine

Song Two: Suzanne by Leonard Cohen

Christine was young, with hair that cascaded in curls around her head like the halo of a saint. She had only recently arrived at the airport and was desperately looking for where the arriving passengers exited. She had been slightly delayed and was anxious that Ernest would arrive before her and she wouldn't be able to offer him a proper welcome. Suddenly Christine heard a familiar voice calling out her name with an accent that was part French, part Eastern European: "Christine, I'm here". She whirled around, full of anticipation, and began to run toward the familiar voice. The voice was slightly different. The last time she had heard it in person had been three years ago in Paris, and since then only through the telephone speaker. After running a few steps, she jumped into the arms of young Ernest, hesitated slightly, then kissed him awkwardly, but with love and passion.

"I don't know if this was the happiest day of my life, but certainly it's the moment that changed my destiny," the elderly Ernest turned toward Evie, then continued. "Without Christine, without her love, her care, and her perseverance, I would never have had the courage to write, to discover myself further, and to love people the way I loved them."

"Christine was an extraordinary woman," Evie answered him. "And you can see in her face that she loves you deeply, even if her gestures here at the airport seem awkward."

"Our first reunion. We'd met three years before in Paris when I worked at an advertising agency and she came to study French. That month we were inseparable. Afterward, we sustained the friendship through weekly letters and telephone calls, trading stories from our ordinary lives while I occasionally sent poems. The moment she first saw my writing, she became my most persistent champion." Ernest fell silent, watching the two lovers leave the airport hand in hand.

"We need to go, Ernest," Evie said, pulling gently at his hand.

"Can't you play this song one more time? I haven’t seen her face in so many years” Ernest begged the young woman.

"I'm not sure, but let's try." She disappeared for a moment and the song started again.

This time Christine had gray hair, still curly, and her smile radiated a feeling of love impossible to ignore. She and Ernest were in their living room, surrounded by friends and her family. People were speaking loudly, making jokes, and celebrating.

"I think that's when I realized I was the luckiest man in the world. Certainly, if I had won the lottery, I wouldn't have been as happy as at that moment surrounded by friends and losing myself in my wife's beauty."

"You should give yourself more credit in the love between you and Christine," Evie softly scolded, narrowing her eyes at Ernest. "You were lucky, yes, but it wasn't always simple. You loved her greatly, supported her deeply, protected and indulged her. You were there for her in a way no one else could have ever been".​

Ernest said nothing. He'd heard her, but remained motionless, too captivated by the moment to respond. He stood as if wanting to take root before this scene, then looked at Evie and spoke with a quiet, trembling voice.

"We have to leave, right? Can you pause it a bit? I want to engrave this moment even more deeply into my memory."

The music ceased, and the old man stood frozen, absorbing each detail of the tableau before him.

"I'm sorry Ernest, we need to leave," Evie said softly, and they faded away.

The Funeral

Song Three: Ai Du by Ali Farka Touré

Before the two of them, a crowd of people dressed in black was gathered for a burial. There was still much commotion, and those in charge of the arrangements were bustling back and forth to accommodate as many people as possible and offer them a seat. They were all gathered around a coffin. The family of the deceased had been positioned close to it, in the shade of a centuries-old cedar. Besides the large group of people preparing to attend the burial ceremony, there was an even larger group placing candles and offerings at the cemetery entrance.

"I recognize this place, it's close to home. We're at...? Is this for me?" asked Ernest while analyzing the crowd and trying to understand what he was witnessing.

"Yes, this is where we are," Evie answered laconically.

"But how can it be that my nephew and his wife are here, my cousin, and Daniel?!" Ernest marveled.

"Not only them, most of those from back home, along with their children and grandchildren. Your friend Daniel took the first plane and handled all the arrangements".

"I can't believe they all made the trip!" Ernest stared, mouth agape, unable to believe what he saw. "Perhaps you are right. I'm an old man fond of self-pity, convinced I've been abandoned. Christine always scolded me for this, pushed me to call home, to visit. But how could I impose? Without Christine I feel so strange. Everyone loved her. I was just her husband".

"How can you say something like that while witnessing this event?" Evie responded, slightly indignant.

Ernest kept analyzing the crowd, and in every corner he discovered another familiar face. There were people from pasts he'd long considered bygone. There were the faces of children he'd never seen.

"Ernest, you can't deny what's unfolding before us. You believe life simply happened to you, that luck carried you along. But you made your own life. Left Europe to follow your heart, sacrificed nights to the hobby that made you famous, stayed true to yourself and your origins. And you weren't abandoned. After Christine's death, you withdrew, stopped calling. Look at this crowd. They haven't forgotten you. You forgot them. You remember your love of nature, enjoy it every evening. Why forget your love of people?"​

"I've always been awkward, and that sometimes made me afraid of people. I miss Christine, my bridge to the world." Ernest felt ashamed but at the same time grateful to Evie. "I suppose in forgetting to love myself, I forgot to love others too. I have one more request before the last song. Would it be possible?"

"Tell me, and we'll see what can be done," Evie answered promptly.

"Can we go back to the present? I want to return to my bedroom, with my senses and my feelings. I want my life back. And I want to call home."

"I've been eagerly waiting for this request," the young woman beamed.

The Present

Song Four: Truth by Kamasi Washington

Ernest was back in his armchair, covered with the wool blanket, and Evie stood leaning against the terrace railing.

"I don't know what you are, an angel, a messenger from heaven, or simply a product of my subconscious? But know, Evie, that I am grateful. I feel in some way that you were sent by Christine, that she still watches over me and that she's my lucky star."

"It gave me pleasure too, Ernest. Even someone like me has something to learn from a mission like this. Thank you very much!"

"Please stay with me until the song ends. Only if you have the time and other projects aren't pressing you. I really hope that your job is not under pressure of staff shortage or process optimization." Ernest finished, grinning mischievously.

The turntable needle crackled softly again at the end of the song. The old man opened his eyes and looked at the young woman on the balcony.

"I'll let you call Anita to chat with her. Make plans for tomorrow, and don’t forget to call home. It's still early there. Farewell, friend," and Evie disappeared slowly like mist rising and leaving a clear sky.

Ernest called out to Anita, and the two began to share stories from their childhoods in their distant countries: one from Europe, the other from South America. They spoke of the hardships of never being home but also of the beauty of being a traveler in the world and in life. After talking for a good hour, he asked her to bring him the telephone and told her to be ready because the next day they would go on an adventure.