THAILAND 5: Heart Burns

"A joyful heart is the inevitable result of a heart burning with love." - Greek Proverb

The next morning I woke up groggy and desiring nothing more than to go back to sleep.  Justin on the other hand woke up refreshed and ready to enjoy the day.

“How did you sleep?” He asked with a large smile that was far too bright for me so early in the morning. 

I groaned and rolled over, “Terrible! I itched ALL night.”  The evening before I stood in a army of ants while waiting for Justin to situate the bike with our bags and figure out the next move.  Although the ants were much obliged that dinner had been delivered to their door, I on the other hand was miserable.

“I’m going to go get some breakfast and check our emails.  You wanna come?” His voice was joyous and in a sing-song tune.  How can anyone wake up so cheery? I thought bleakly to myself. 

“No.” I buried my head under the pillow and attempted to drown my itching with sleep.

Moments later I sighed.  There would be no more sleep for me today, for I too was curious if we had received any emails telling us of Justin’s start date, and any news of the current state of the flood.  Another heaving sigh.  I walked blurry eyed, and fluffy haired to the restaurant which was only a few steps from our bungalow door. 

The evening before, we had arrived to these bungalows after searching for what felt like hours and turning into one dead end after another.  The sun had just dipped below the ocean’s horizon and the stars were coming out in droves.  It seems to be our m.o. to arrive to our destination after it is already dark, so it didn’t come as a surprise to me that it happened once again.

I squinted through the bright light of the morning sun trying to make out what the crashing sound was.  My surroundings started as blurred as a watercolor, and slowly the colors and shapes began to refine and sharpen as my mind was stirred by the beauty of my surroundings.  We had procured a bungalow right on the beach.  The ocean, I discovered, was the source of the continual swishing and crashing I had heard all night.

I found Justin contentedly sitting on a bamboo bench facing the ocean, watching the waves roll softly in and out, holding a cup of fresh brewed coffee in one hand and his head cocked thoughtfully to the side. 

“You can use the surf boards here for free.” He informed me, his voice was soft as though he was far away.  Suddenly his eyes lit up as he looked up into my face,  “I’m going to learn to surf while I’m here!”

“You only have a day and a half.  We have to leave for Burma early in the morning the day after tomorrow.”  Here I go again, always the voice of reason.   

“I know, but . . .” he looked up at me again, and the sunshine that he had beamed at me this morning had concentrated to his eyes and was now a burning flame.  “How would you feel about staying a few more days?”  The flames leapt up as he spoke.  I pictured a magician flaring his hands as he presented his next magic trick complete with smoke and mirrors.

“What do you mean?” I asked skeptically, all of the reasons that it was not logical, realistic, or responsible leapt into my mind and began forming a fierce argument.  As much as I would love to stay in this paradise for as long as I could one of us had to be realistic; my own fire began inside me. 

My brother once told me that he had heard a song that reminded him of Justin and I, and that, as the lyrics professed, we were similar to when a ‘tornado meets a volcano’.  At first I took offence to what he was saying thinking he meant that it could never work between us.  My brother went on to explain deeper how he felt. 

You see, my brother is a romantic through-and-through.  I, on the other hand, am a realist that desires to be a romantic, a straight-laced, responsible older sister that desires to be the carefree, funny younger brother. 

He continued to tell me how he saw us both as independent forces to be reckon with, and that we fight with passion. The downfall to our intense passion is that if we aren’t careful we‘ll direct it towards each other, but on the upside we love passionately and on a deeper level than most people will experience.

That thought brought to remembrance from years back when Brad, Justin’s father, had once asked me what my thoughts were regarding his son. 

“So, any romance on the horizon?” Brad asked glancing at me sideways with a twinkle in his eye.

 “No.  I don’t think there is anyone out there for me.”  I told him matter-of-factly, but secretly hoping that I was wrong.

“What about Justin?” he said placing a tiny seed inside my heart.

“Ha!” I laughed amused at the idea.  “We would never work.  We fight like old crows.”  I shook my head to seal the deal. 

“Oh, I see . . . Well, I bet within the year you will be in love [with someone].” He challenged gently.

“Okay then.  It’s a bet.”  I smiled curiously up at him as he turned the suburban into the gas station.  He seemed so certain, but I never make bets that I’m not sure I’ll win.  I lost our bet within the year.

I think often about these brief conversations, and my self-proclaimed failure of mine and Justin’s relationship before it had even found its way into my direct line of vision.  As my volcano of reason, responsibility, and reality rumbles, I look at Justin from a distance eyes soft with wonder and heart burning so desperately to be more like him, relaxed, calm and soaking up every moment of a life so glorious.

Justin chose not to take notice of my challenging tone, and continued, “I checked our emails, and it looks like school is going to be closed a few days longer.  So . . .  I think we should come back here after Burma and spend a few more days relaxing on the beach, and . . .” he added with exuberant enthusiasm, “surf!”

Anxiety began to slowly rise, as the men running the accounting department in my head began frantically producing reports telling me that we couldn’t afford such a luxury.  I pushed back the reports, irritated and asked Justin, “How much longer?”  Completely prepared to give the new figures to my accountant. 

“A couple days at the most,” he said smiling up at me as surfers rode through the green pools of his eyes.

I let them run the numbers and despite their results I agreed, “Alright.  A few more days can’t hurt.” I suppressed my anxieties and ushered the protesting accountants back to their small office next door to the empty office of the recently fired auditor.  You don’t want to end up like him do you?  I jerked my thumb towards the auditor’s vacant office, and slammed the door behind me.

Finances will be tight, but it’s only a few more days . . . it will be okay.  Just try and enjoy yourself.  Try to be more like Justin.  I tried to assure myself.

Years ago, a friend of mine had once asked me what I thought about Justin.  The seed that Brad had planted weeks previously must have started to sprout kindling a fire in my heart, because my knee jerk reaction of ‘Heck no! It’d never work!’ wasn’t the first thing to come to mind. 

“Justin?” I mused.  “No, I don’t think so.  I adore him, but he’s much too free.  I envy his freedom, and could never take that away from him.”

For as long as I have known Justin, he has lived in a different realm of understanding about how the mechanics of life behave, and I envy people who live naturally in that awareness. 

“Want to go for a ride around the island?” his excitement was contagious and I was once again swept away by his smile.

“Yes!” My face had caught the disease, and I too was smiling excitedly.  How bad can life be? I am here with my love in a beautiful surrounding complete with ocean, soft beaches, hammocks, and delicious food.

We explored the island, taking the bike down dirt paths, and countless dead ends until we found the most peculiar beach. 

“Look! It’s pink!” I said while simultaneously jumping off the bike and screaming, “AAAARRRGGGGHHH!”

“What’s wrong?” Justin jumped off the bike and ran towards me concern stretched across his face.

“I burnt my leg getting off the bike!” I said trying not to be a baby and choking back my tears.

Sure enough a three inch around, heart-shaped burn was starting to balloon on my lower calf. 

“Let’s run some water on it.” Justin said leading me the small inlet and digging a trough in the sand where fresh water was pouring from.

“Well, there goes surfing for me!” I said disappointed.  The second degree burn on my leg would keep me out of the sun and water for weeks to come.

Upon further inspection we discovered that the beach was pink because of an endless array of tiny pink seashells.

That night and the rest of the next day I sat under a tree nursing my burn, watching Justin surf, and wondering what Burma would bring the next morning.