This is where Nisha exists.
Here.
And, in the moment, she kissed me, high up in the mountains, when she had been partly with me and partly in the world from which she had come.
The red lake at Mitsero reflects a sunset, captures it, holds it, even when the sun has died. Red lake, toxic lake, copper lake. Mothers and fathers tell their children stories about it, tales of deep passages underground, where men crawled like animals and died in darkness.
Never go near the red lake at Mitsero!
The sunset holds the expectation of the hush and darkness of the night, that time when we close our eyes and meet our true selves. The lake is at the verge of this darkness, always.
It holds all the sunsets from the beginning of time.
A helicopter hovers above like a dragonfly. Four orange rescue crafts glide on the water. Divers enter. There are three, secured to the boats with bright yellow ropes.
They will not get lost down there; they have their colleagues at the ready to pull them out.
They slide in, and once again the lake is still.
In the village, the widow stands in her front garden holding a lit candle. To protect the flame from the breeze she cradles it in her palm.
The barley fields and wheat fields are gold beneath the setting sun. The woods are alight. A hare runs out of a bush and tentatively approaches the crater, keeping its distance.
After a while, a diver emerges from the water. He signals to the people in the boat and they throw down some ropes with hooks at the end. He goes down again and when he comes back up, he raises a thumb and the people in the boat pull until a suitcase is dragged to the surface.
29
Petra
A
LIKI WANTED ME TO HELP her get ready. At first, she took her time choosing what she would wear, then she stood still while I pulled the jumper over her head – Nisha’s orange jumper with the sunflower. I put her feet into her jeans, pulling them up. She stared out of the glass doors at the boat in the garden, at the orange tree, at the chickens that roamed out of their pen. Then I took the bracelet out of my pocket.
‘Look at this,’ I said.
She turned to me now, caught my eye for a second and there I saw a depth of sadness as vast as the sea.
‘That was a present from me.’ She smiled, sadly.
‘Yes. You know she never took it off. She wore it every single day.’
I secured the bracelet onto her wrist and she twisted her hand around so that the bracelet glimmered in the late afternoon sun that streaked through the glass doors.
We went outside to sit in the boat and wait for the others. First, Mrs Hadjikyriacou came with Ruba, then Soneeya and Binsa, then Nilmini, followed by Muyia, who arrived as the sun was setting.
Apart from brief greetings, nobody spoke. We all knew why we were there – to say goodbye to Nisha. I wondered where Yiannis was. His kitchen window was shut and dark. I helped Aliki pass the candles around and when I looked again, he was standing at the foot of the stairs with his hands empty at his sides. Face pale, lids heavy, shirt buttoned up to his neck.
He stood there and watched us light the candles, hold them in front of us to light the darkness on our faces. A hush enveloped us all; the boat was empty and I imagined Nisha sitting in it.
‘Nisha is going away,’ Aliki said suddenly, and for a moment all eyes rose from the ground and rested on her face. ‘She is drifting away on the soft waves of the faraway Sea Above the Sky.’
I put my hand on Aliki’s shoulder and I felt her body shake. It wasn’t a cold night, but she trembled as if an icy wind was blowing.
Then the wind did pick up and we moved back into the protection of the house, Aliki leading everyone into the warmth.
‘Give me a second,’ I said to her.
I walked over to the stairs where Yiannis was still standing. ‘Are you coming in?’
He nodded. ‘I’ve booked a flight to Sri Lanka. I’m leaving tomorrow.
I caught his eye, inhaling deeply, not knowing what to say.
‘I’m going to see Kumari,’ he said.
I squeezed his hand and he began to cry. With his chin down and his eyes scrunched up, and his chest shaking, he cried, and I held onto his hand as Nisha drifted away on the Sea Above the Sky.
*
Later, I sat in the garden with Aliki and Nilmini. She opened her friend’s journal and began to read. We sat there for hours, listening to Nisha’s words. Tomorrow I would be giving Yiannis the journal to take to Kumari – its rightful owner.
Nisha’s true story began to unfold. I heard the story of Kiyoma’s death and the owl. I heard about how she travelled to Rathnapura, how she met her husband and the day he died in the mines. I heard about how she’d worked day and night at the market in Galle, how she had made the difficult decision to leave, and how she had felt that first year away from home, unable to hold her beautiful daughter, Kumari.