After closing and sealing the last box with his belongings, Sombra straightened up, stretched a little, and sighed heavily. Thanks to abroad contracts, he’d already seen a large part of the world – but such a lifestyle also had a rather serious downside. An integral part of it was relatively frequent moving or at least spending several weeks in hotels, depending on the distance from his homeland and the amount of time needed to complete a given project. Sixteen years ago, when his career had unexpectedly taken off, it hadn’t bothered him much; on the contrary, he’d enjoyed every trip. Little by little, however, living out of a suitcase began to just tire him. The more so because each voyage involved packing and unpacking – and he’d always hated both. Well, at least now all he had to do was put the rest of his clothes into the cabin suitcase and…
His eyes fell on a somewhat damaged shoe box. Strange. It should by now have been hidden safely in one of the sealed boxes, as always. How could he have missed it…? Well, that didn’t really matter. The important thing was that he noticed it in time. He would never forgive himself if he lost it or forgot about it, as it contained the most valuable of all the things he had.
He placed it carefully in the suitcase, between two rolled shirts, and reached for a neatly folded towel. He was going to put it over the top of the box, but after a moment’s hesitation, he changed his mind. Taking the box out, he laid it on the bed, sat down next to it, and took the lid off.
He saw a photograph of a laughing young girl with light eyes and long, slightly wavy hair. He’d long since forgotten what amused her and who had taken her picture, but her laughter, so clear, warm and melodic, her lovely eyes and their gleam, which no photo could reproduce… he remembered all that perfectly. And he would for the rest of his life; he had no doubt about it. How could he possibly forget the most beautiful girl he’d ever met? Or rather: the most beautiful girl in the whole world…
Right under this photo, there was another one. This time, they were both there – hugging, smiling and head over heels in love. He remembered well the night it had been taken. It was the first and only New Year they’d spent together in her family home. Contrary to widespread stereotypes (and his own initial fears), they gave him a warm welcome. He quickly found a common language with the father, the mother had nothing to do with a perpetually dissatisfied mother-in-law, who’d consider her daughter’s suitor not good enough – and the sister, barely saying hello, asked about the wedding date.
He smiled a little. It was impossible to dislike this kid, despite – or perhaps because of – her sometimes ridiculous ideas. For example, he still didn’t known how he’d ended up trying to light a barbecue in the middle of winter. Or how she’d managed to rope him and her sister into pulling her around the garden on a sled, even though she was by no means a little girl. Although… given her inclination to mischief, sometimes had the impression she was no older than a first grader. Of course, he’d never told her that; why spoil the atmosphere and lose points with the whole family? Still, he had to honestly admit to himself that some of her antics were actually quite funny.
He reached for the last of his favorite photos and chuckled under his breath. It was originally meant to be another one of the romantic kind, but someone had other plans for them. Like with the previous one, he still remembered when, where and how it was taken. That day for the first (and only) time, he took his girlfriend to the Summer Solstice Festival. Initially, it was supposed to be just the two of them. In the evening, they’d packed the essentials into the car her parents had given her after buying themselves a new one – but that didn’t save them from the morning chaos. Mainly because they overslept. By about half an hour. To this day, he had no idea why her alarm clock hadn’t rung. Although…
Eventually, they set off with a significant delay; he was driving as she hadn’t yet managed to cool down from the frantic preparations. After about two hours on the highway, she settled down enough to realize they’d forgotten breakfast because of all the commotion. Well, actually, only she had forgotten; while she’d been occupying the bathroom, hastily brushing her hair and putting on make-up, he’d had quite some time to make sandwiches and tea in a thermos.
And so, they stopped at the first gas station they’d come across. Just as he turned off the engine, they heard a loud yawn, and a familiar dark-haired prankster emerged from between their luggage, asking sleepily, “Are we there yet?”.
The details of the scenes that followed had long since faded from his memory. Nevertheless, the angry screams of his sweetheart, berating her sister, still echoed in his ears… or maybe only in his imagination? However it was, he still felt relieved that he himself had never messed with her enough to deserve such a telling-off.
Of course, this entailed a call to the parents from a phone in the back of the station. And of course all three of them went there; Sombra didn’t even think about letting his girlfriend out of his sight in a strange place, and the young stowaway also had to be taken care of. So of course he heard snippets of a rather heated family discussion. Back then, he felt sorry for the Kiddo (as he sometimes called her jokingly) and swore to himself that he would never cause anything like this. In a way, he even succeeded… but the price for that was high. Maybe even too high. More than once he would catch himself thinking that he actually wished he had someone to argue with sometimes. Not to death, of course – simple, minor quarrels about dirty shirts on the floor, the bathroom overfilled with women’s cosmetics and make-up accessories or about trash not taken out would suffice. But what was done, couldn’t be undone. He couldn’t change the past.
In the end, they took the stowaway with them. Not that they really had a choice; they had already come too far to drive her back home and make it to the festival on time. Still, it wasn’t that bad. The young girl clearly tried not to cause problems – maybe out of genuine remorse, and maybe in order to soften her sister’s heart and receive a lesser punishment upon coming back home. Or maybe both? Whatever her motivation was, they made it through the day without any antics. Well, almost.
The plan had been simple – send the Kiddo to get something to drink, and in the meantime take a romantic photo in a photo booth. While the first part went smoothly, the second was worse. Mostly because the couple before them spent an awful lot of time in there. And when it finally came their turn… well, the first two pics turned out okay, but just as he was about to give his girlfriend a kiss for the third, someone jumped on them from behind, almost knocking them over. Literally a moment later, it turned out that it was the young stowaway. Whether she did it deliberately, or as a joke, or because she didn’t want to feel excluded – they never found out, though truth be told, he had his suspicions. His beloved apparently did as well, for the moment when she realized what had happened, she dashed in pursuit of her sister, threatening to kill her as soon as she caught her. Not that the Kiddo paid it much. In fact, none of the three of them did. Sombra knew very well that the two actually loved each other dearly… even though there were different in almost every way. The most noticeable things were the colors of their hair, irises, and skin, but if you looked closely, you could see subtle dissimilarities in the shape of their eyes and noses. The sisters didn’t resemble each other personality‑wise, either. One was calm and composed, the other a bit flighty and very lively. One chose her words carefully, the other sometimes would speak before thinking…
Yet, there actually were several things they had in common. For example, the same lip shape – maybe not necessarily in line with the widely‑accepted canons of beauty, but charming in its own way. The smiles were identical, too: usually gentle, often joyful, sometimes a little mocking – but never malicious – and always lighting up the entire face. Then again, it could hardly be otherwise since they both had hearts of gold… even if they had their worse moments, too. And they both loved raspberry smoothies with a touch of mint, and chocolate in probably every form. He laughed under his breath once more, then shook his head slightly. How could he still remember such details?
But then he sighed quietly. He missed both of them terribly – because what he loved in one, he truly liked in the other. And to think that they could have been a family…
A knock on the door broke him out of his reverie.
“Enter,” he said, putting the photos back in their place.
There was a soft clatter of the handle, and after a moment his hosts’ son, Agni Rakt – a tall, thin, dark‑purple‑haired boy with skin the color of coffee with milk – stood in the doorway. Bowing deeply, in accordance with the local custom, he announced:
“Engineer Sombra, sir, the house movers are here. They ask if they can already take the your luggage, Engineer Sombra, sir.”
Sombra once again smiled involuntarily. He’d spent three months in this house, but by no means had he been able to talk the young man out of calling him “Engineer Sombra” every time, even though it only made his sentences unnecessarily long. In the end, he simply let it go.
“Yes, thank you,” he merely replied.
He closed the box and put it in his backpack with the most necessary things. Taking the towel, still lying on the bed, he somewhat carelessly tossed into the suitcase which he then zipped shut. After looking around to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, he stood up and handed the suitcase to Agni Rakt.
“Please put it in the hallway. I’ll just make sure they take everything, and then I’ll come and say goodbye.”
“All right, Engineer Sombra, sir.” The young man bowed and walked away with the luggage.
*
When the plane finally got airborne, Sombra reached into the backpack he kept in his lap, took out the book he’d prepared in advance, and opened it where he’d last left the bookmark.
The climb was getting more and more difficult. We had been walking for hours, almost non‑stop, so we could arrive to the village before nightfall. We were getting hungry, for the food had run out two, maybe three hours ago. We didn’t have to worry about water; we got enough from a stream we had crossed not too long ago…
This time, however, reading was a struggle. He looked at words, sentences, paragraphs, pages – and didn’t understand a single thing. Discouraged, he put the bookmark back where it had been, closed the book and put it back in his backpack. Then, he leaned back against the headrest of his seat, closed his eyes, and surrendered to the thoughts that he’d been as stubbornly as unsuccessfully trying to suppress as he’d tried to read. Just like right before he had set off, they revolved around the only woman he’d ever loved in his entire life; his former girlfriend.
His girlfriend… those two words used to fill him with pride and joy – after all, he’d found the most beautiful woman of all. Now, however, they only caused pain, though not as much as in the first weeks after the breakup. Oh, those had been terrible. He’d spent the entire first night crying into his pillow – although his pride didn’t allow him to ever admit it, even to his closest friends. Suffice to say that once they found out what had happened, they started giving him all sorts of more or less helpful advice. Hope claimed that he’d given up too easily and should keep fighting, while Winter suggested he fight fire with fire and look for a new girlfriend – causing him to have a heated argument with Astral, who in turn believed that for him, Sombra, it would be best to just let go of relationships for a while and forget about his ex. Before his anger at both of them passed, he decided to follow Hope’s suggestion. All it brought him was another rejection; all the more painful because it was categorical, without a shadow of hope. He didn’t try again. First, he had his pride, and second – more importantly – he’d sworn to his ex that if she didn’t change her mind, he’d leave her in peace. He cringed at the memory. If only he could go back in time…
“Why did I even make that stupid promise to you?” he muttered under his breath. “If not for that, I’d have someone to rush back to.”
“Pardon?” said a female voice to his right.
Looking in that direction, he met the surprised gaze of his neighbor, an elderly woman with curly gray hair.
“No, nothing,” he replied, a bit embarrassed. “I was just… talking to myself.”
The woman shook her head and started reading some gossip magazine. Sombra, on the other hand, shifted slightly in his seat, closed his eyes again, and returned to his musings.
Yes… if it weren’t for the oath from many years ago, his life would be very different. He didn’t have to look far – it was enough to look at Astral and Winter. Both had long since started families, the latter even had grown up children… and he? A lifelong bachelor with no place to really call home.
Oh, of course he had an apartment in his hometown, but he hardly used it; it was usually occupied by tenants that Hope took care of. He’d just tell her how long he’d be gone, and she’d arrange the rest. Granted, there were a couple of times when he came back earlier than he thought, but in such cases he just lived with her for a while. Her husband was okay (he’d seen to that personally), and the kids called him uncle; so did Astral’s and Winter’s, for that matter. In addition to the usual visits, all three of them took turns inviting him every year for Unity Day and other major and minor holidays, but he didn’t always come. Yes, they were like a family to him, but watching them and listening to their laughs, jokes and bantering, he regretted that he hadn’t and wouldn’t have a wife, sons, daughters… He would have bought them a house somewhere out of town – or better: would have had it built by his own design – necessarily with a big garden, so the kids could run around… and the buzz of their voices would have carried far… far away…
Instead, he was to spend Unity Day alone, and, ironically, farther from his homeland than ever – on the opposite, southern hemisphere. At times, he even wondered if he’d done the right thing by accepting this contract. But there was no turning back now. What was the difference, though? He could meet his friends even without occasion, and on holidays, if he happened to be alone, he worked quite well; maybe because then he saw it as a way to kill time, when he got bored of movies, books, walks…
After a while, however, he took out his treasure box, removed the lid, carefully lifted the photographs and retrieved a tattered, somewhat yellowed, stuffed envelope from underneath. He gently took out one of the letters, unfolded it, and began to read, as he’d done so many times over the past twenty years and counting.
Dear Sombra,
I know we parted for the holidays just yesterday, but I already miss you. We absolutely must spend the next one together – whether at my place or yours. Besides, I have an idea. Why don’t you come over to us for the New Year? You could meet my family. And then I’d go to you to meet yours. What do you think?
If you came, we could go skiing. Oh, and if you can’t ski, don’t worry. I’ll teach you.
He smiled slightly. She had indeed given him a few lessons then – and although he had to manage on his own in the following years, thanks to the good basics it came relatively easy. She was a really great teacher. Not because she learned it – she just had a knack for it. He wondered if she went further in that direction.
Then the main flight attendant announced over the loudspeakers the plane was about to land. Thus, Sombra put the letter into the envelope, the envelope into the box, and the box into his backpack, which he zipped up thoroughly. He then made sure his seat belt was fastened and once again leaned against the headrest, closing his eyes.
*
No sooner had he hung his second pair of trousers in the closet – he knew from experience it was a good idea to have a backup in case his checked luggage went missing – than Sombra closed his now empty cabin suitcase and put it in a compartment above the closet. Finally, he flopped onto the bed and took a deep breath. He really hated unpacking; far more than packing, in fact. And this was only the beginning. There was still a large suitcase left, bundled with the small one for the duration of transport – and the boxes that should arrive in two or three days.
That last thought made him sit up and reach for his backpack. He carefully took out a box of souvenirs, placed it on the bed and opened it, then set about looking through the contents. He deserved a break from all the unpacking, after all.
The first thing he did was get the photos out and gently set them on one of the shelves, propping them against the wall. He would frame them once the rest of his things arrived. Until then, he would also have to find out where the nearest flower shop or a market was, and buy some freesias. Although sometimes people were surprised that he always, absolutely always, had fresh flowers in a vase on a shelf or a table – but whether they liked it or not, he was sentimental, and She loved white freesias…
Then, there was the envelope – yellowed and tattered in places. The address written on its front was still legible, though the ink had faded a bit over the years. Sombra carefully ran his thumb over the neat, elegant letters with no unnecessary curls, as delicate as the hand that had once written them. After a moment’s consideration, he also took out the letters. Lately they had become a mess; mostly because he hadn’t always paid attention to how they should be arranged (from latest to earliest, headings forward and up), especially on this trip. Two connecting flights did leave him plenty of time to read, but they didn’t exactly help maintain any sort of order. And he liked order; it made his job a whole lot easier.
As he sorted and arranged his letters, every now and then he would stop for a moment to read some of his favorite passages. And it was a considerable collection, varied both in terms of the volume of text and its character. Humorous remarks and friendly banter were interspersed with deep reflections, and light flirting mixed with serious, tender declarations of great love. He glanced at the letter he held in his hands – seemingly mundane, trite or even naïve. And yet it was precisely this tenderness, this shy warmth that made it as charming as the girl who had written it.
My dear Sombra,
This letter will probably already be waiting for you when you get home, or it will arrive soon after. You see, it’s only been a day since you left and I miss you already. I’d love to keep you here forever, to hear your voice every day and look into your lovely eyes… but that would be terribly selfish of me, wouldn’t it? After all, you can’t neglect your loved ones because of me. Please tell them I say hello.
I don’t know if you’ve realized it yet, but you left your sweatshirt behind. Mom found it in the hallway, next to Dad’s jacket. This may sound silly, and you may laugh, but… as I write this, I’m wearing it. And I’m going to sleep with it tonight. It reminds me of you…
He smiled at the memory. In the letter attached to the package he received shortly after, his girlfriend complained that her mother had found the sweatshirt in her room, washed it and ordered it to be returned. He remembered that he’d called her the same evening to comfort her and promise that they would see each other so many times after the summer break. How wrong he was! Yes, they did see each other, but only so that she could break up with him. And to think that otherwise, next year, they could have been celebrating the twenty-fifth anniversary of their first meeting… and a slightly less round wedding anniversary…
Pushing away the envelope and letters, he reached for a small square box. Of all the mementos he owned, this was the only one on which the passage of time was almost unnoticeable. No wonder. He rarely took it out at all, and not to mention actually opening it. This time, however, he did lift the lid. Inside, surrounded by dark satin lining, shone a golden ring with a small diamond, which he’d bought hoping she’d change her mind and come back to him. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen…
“At least explain to me why you don’t,” he begged of her back then, grabbing her hand. “I don’t deserve you?”
“No, you don’t,” she replied softly.
“So you don’t want me? Should I leave and never come back?”
“Yes,” she said firmly, looking him straight in the eye. “Go away and never come back. And return the ring to the store. I don’t want you.”
He never did. He didn’t return the ring, even though he’d spent all of his at-the-time savings on it. He just wasn’t able to. Just as he wasn’t able to tear up and burn the photos and letters, although he had tried a few times when he got angry. He always stopped himself almost at the last moment. Yes, his ex‑girlfriend had hurt him really badly with the breakup, but he couldn’t stop loving her – even at a time when, on Astral and Winter’s advice, he’d decided to banish her from his heart and mind. Back then, he’d been telling himself that she’d been merely toying with him, pretending to love him; that she actually was terribly shallow and had dumped him because he’d had no money; that she surely had found herself a rich man long ago and lacked nothing… but what was the point? He felt, he knew, he was certain that all these things were lies and that he might as well try to live without breathing.
For the same reason, his next two or three short relationships failed as well, before he gave up on women altogether. Granted, many had tried to seduce him over the years – especially ever since his career really took off and he started earning better money – but none could compare to that one‑of‑a‑kind girl. If only he hadn’t made that foolish vow to her back then! Maybe he’d have had a chance to win her back before she started a family… because there was no doubt that she’d long since gotten married and had children. Who wouldn’t love a girl (“now a woman,” he corrected himself) like her? She had an angelic face and an even more beautiful soul…
By the way, he wondered whether she’d kept the brooch he’d given her on her one birthday they’d celebrated together. Or maybe she got rid of it when she got married… or even earlier? He would probably be jealous if she kept mementos of another man for years, so maybe it was the same with her husband? And what about that landscape picture he’d gotten her for Unity Day? Did she still have it? Was it hanging on the wall, or gathering dust somewhere in the attic or in the basement? Sombra sighed softly. Maybe he should have given her a book with a dedication back then, after all, like she’d given him? But what if it hadn’t been to her liking? He’d seen her reading more than once, but somehow it had never occurred to him to ask her what her favorite genre was. Maybe crime novels? She had an eye for details and almost infallible intuition, so she could play detective. Or maybe she preferred travel literature? He smiled. He still had the book that his ex-girlfriend had given him back then in exchange for the picture – and which had become the beginning of his extensive collection of such novels…
Putting the ring box back in his little treasury – he wouldn’t forgive himself if it went missing – he mused for a moment. When had things gotten so bad between them that they broke up? And, in fact, how had it come to this? After all, she’d been writing so beautiful letters that summer, almost just before their breakup… or maybe something had already been wrong and he hadn’t noticed? Reaching for the sheets of paper he had earlier put aside, he found the four latest letters to take a closer look at them.
Dearest Sombra,
I have a strange feeling that the less days there are left until the end of the summer break, the longer they get… I simply can’t wait to see you again… but can you believe I’ve completely forgotten about your internship? I honestly don’t know how I’m going to survive these extra three weeks without you if I already miss you so much…
My darling Sombra,
Only two weeks are left until we meet again. It doesn’t seem like much on paper, but for me every day feels like a month. If I really wasn’t going to see you for over a year more, I think I would die of longing. Come back soon; I can’t wait to look you in the eye and tell you that I love you, instead of just writing it down on paper that might get destroyed or lost.
My beloved Sombra,
Was the separation my idea? I’m not the one who invented the summer break, after all. But alright, for every day spent apart you’ll get a kiss; I’ll never refuse you that. And I hope for the same, because I am counting down the days until your return with the more impatience, the less of them are left. I would so love to finally embrace you and kiss you until we both are out of breath…
No… that’s not how a person planning to break up with someone would write. Those letters had to be sincere. A love as passionate as the one they emanated simply can’t be faked. And especially She wouldn’t do it. He still remembered the spark of pain and regret in her eyes, and the slight tremor of her seemingly composed voice as she looked him straight in the face and told him to go away forever. It was as if she didn’t want this breakup at all, but saw no other way out. Maybe that was why, when during one of his less safe trips he had the seemingly crazy idea to write down his last will – just in case – he thought of her. Why couldn’t he? After all, he had no wife – he wanted no other than her – not to mention children, so sooner or later he would have to start thinking how to distribute what he would leave behind. One thing had been obvious from the very start: all the mementos would be hers. As for the money, he had to do some thinking, but finally decided that She would get half, her sister a quarter, and the rest would be for charity.
By the way, it was almost time to send another transfer to the foundation’s account, like he did every month. This was the only good thing about all his high fees; seven years ago, they’d let him establish scholarships for the most talented students of architecture and pedagogy. At first, there were only two beneficiaries, one from each major; but as time passed and his resources grew, the number increased. He was now subsidizing the education of ten young people: two women and eight men. He knew that they were between the ages of twenty and twenty-five, and he knew their first names – he received such information from the foundation every year – but to them, he remained an anonymous benefactor. He preferred to be known for his work rather than for giving away his surplus wealth. Anyway, that’s more or less what a man, not much older but definitely wiser than him, once advised him.
“You want to help others? That’s good. Just be moderate about it. Don’t hide it as if you were ashamed, but don’t brag about it left and right, either. Otherwise, it defeats the purpose.”
What was his name, anyway? Sombra slightly furrowed his brow in thought for a while before snapping his fingers. Kin Kage. Of course. How could he have forgotten? It made him uneasy. He definitely thought about the man he’d once became close friends with far too rarely. Granted, it had been a few years since he’d last met him, but he shouldn’t have let himself forget his name. Not after all those hundreds, if not thousands of hours of conversations on various topics – because Kin really knew life and had many surprising reflections. Such as that boredom is best cured by simply being “outbored”, as he’d put it; in other words, outwaited. And upon hearing about the letters and mementos, he nodded and pondered for a moment before finally concluding:
“You know, there’s no point in despairing that something is over. It’s better to be thankful that it happened at all.”
At first, Sombra almost took offense at him. How could he let go and start slowly forgetting about his beloved? About the only girl he’d ever wanted to marry? That was simply impossible.
He finally reached for the last letter. Literally the last one, as it had been written only a week before the end of the summer break, after which everything had gone wrong. It was because of this very letter that he understood what Kin’s advice was about.
Sombra, you dear little rascal,
What have you done? Why did you tell me about your dream?
He smiled. Indeed, he’d once had a dream in which they were married, and their baby was sleeping in the cradle. How could he possibly have not shared it with her?
Now I can’t sleep because I keep imagining you in a tailcoat and myself in a white dress… and wondering what our children will be like. Who will they resemble most? What will their eyes, hair, ears look like…? How many of them we’ll actually have? I’d love to have four: two boys and two girls; and you?
Actually, four sounded pretty good. He’d always wondered what it would be like to have several siblings. Granted, Hope was like a sister to him, but officially he was an only child. He wouldn’t want to repeat that in his own family… had he ever started one, of course. He sighed softly, feeling melancholy sweep over him again.
A moment later, though, he shook his head. Kin Kage was right. Wallowing in grief has never done anyone any good. The past can’t be changed – but you can remember its most beautiful moments and draw strength and inspiration from them to create the best future possible. And that was what he was going to hold on to.
It’s late; I’m finally getting sleepy. I hope I’ll dream about you tonight…
He smiled again. He wondered if she actually had dreamed about him that night… because he did, many times. He regretted that the other half of her wish hadn’t come true – but over the years, he’d learned to accept it. Besides, it didn’t stop him from dreaming of her, remembering the beautiful moments spent with her… and still loving her.
I hope I’ll dream about you tonight – and then you’ll come back quickly and we’ll be together forever and ever…
I love you.