The Carmichaels

In the span of twenty-minutes, River had somehow left her purse in her car with her keys and cell-phone inside and her shoes. And now, she was walking barefoot down the Cuban streets, surrounded by color—cars of yellows and blues and greens—such vibrancy that she had to keep her eyes forward so as not to get sucked into the free-spiritedness of it all. A little bit away from a barefoot River, an old man with dark skin sung in Spanish. The song was a beautiful, soothing melody, about loving someone who could never be his. Around him, people formed a semi-circle, swaying to the melody of his voice and the strums of the guitar in his hands. River let that song carry her feet forward, let it trail behind her, and encase her very being. She passed tourists and locals alike as she trailed along the Cuban boardwalk. She wondered how she looked to them, the top half of her pristinely put together—a simple red dress with its long sleeves rolled up, long dark curls, tumbling in the Cuban sunset with jewelry that matched. And then, after a glance down to see what shoes such an elegant woman was wearing, they would find that she was completely barefoot. River blew out a sigh and came to a standstill by the concrete wall that separated the boardwalk from the ocean and the beach down below. She could still hear the man’s song, hear the pain of his voice as he sang about a woman who would never be his. She wondered as she looked at the sunset if the song was based on reality somehow. She couldn’t imagine that it wasn’t; no one could sing something with such emotion if they hadn’t experienced it themselves, surely. Hannah would eventually realize River hadn’t come back to the hotel and she’d track her down. From her spot on the boardwalk among the tourists who were taking pictures, she could see the car they had rented for today, sleek and black and holding all of her most important valuables inside. When Hannah finally came for her, she’d be able to see her immediately. River hauled herself up so that she was sitting on the concrete wall like a couple of other people nearby and then swirled around so that she was facing the sunset, the parking lot, further away, still seeable in her peripheral. The sun was colored with pinks and a gold so vibrant, she put a hand in front of her eyes to shield them. The time of sunset was one of River’s most favorite times of the day. She liked the colors of the sky, liked the way the sun hung low and the rays of dying sunlight stretched out across the sky. Day was beautiful and night was ethereal, but sunset…for River, there was something about the sunset that held an unfathomable beauty to her. “Excuse me.” River turned to look behind her at where the voice was coming from. A young man—one who looked to be in his mid-twenties, so at least four or five years younger than herself—was standing behind her, looking at her expectantly. River thought he was handsome right away, elegant Asian features—the slim eyes, high cheekbones set over smooth fair skin—and all of it was covered with long dark hair that reached just shy of his shoulders. More than just attractive, River found that she thought him beautiful. He was smiling at her and there was something about that smile that River found infectious. Her own lips wanted to pull up to smile back, her eyes were caught up in the mysterious beauty of his own deep, dark ones. “Yes?” She got ahold of herself. “I know this is going to sound incredibly weird but…” He c****d his head to one side. “Do you mind if I take a photo of you?” River started. She noticed just then that he had a camera around his neck, a high quality one, too. She wasn’t exactly a camera expert, but the photographer that had worked with her for the Forbes photo shoot had used that same camera model. “You’re a photographer?” He nodded, holding the camera up as if for proof. “I came to Cuba to shoot some of the hot spots. The beaches,”—he gestured to the beach beyond them—“the people.” He hooked a thumb behind him at some of the people who were dancing to a new song the old man was playing, a more upbeat melody. “I saw you, sitting there and I wanted to take a picture of you.” River didn’t know how she was supposed to feel about this, exactly or if she should let this man take a picture of her. Of course, there was the whole stranger-danger thing—she was in a foreign country with an assistant who probably hadn’t noticed she was missing just yet—but there were other, more prevalent worries to why River didn’t want her picture taken. What if he uploaded it on the Internet? It wouldn’t be too long before the press picked it up, and then her step-aunt would find out and immediately understand what she was doing… “You’ll have all rights over the picture if that helps,” said the man, grinning at her in a way that immediately put her at ease. “I won’t post it anywhere or anything without your permission.” “Did I say it out loud?” she wondered and then immediately clamped her lips shut. She hadn’t meant to say anything, the words had just spilled out of her mouth. For a minute, he looked confused but then he grinned, those dimples appearing again, and he said, “You seem important. You have an…aura about you. I’ve never met a woman who looks like you in real life. I figured you must be a celebrity of something of the sort.” River wondered what a “woman like you” meant, but she kept her questions to herself. Clearing her throat, she told him, “I don’t mind if you take a picture. Just don’t post it anywhere.” His grin widened and he gripped his camera eagerly. For some reason, River could feel the corners of her lips begin to lift, but she immediately forced them back down. There was no reason for her to go around grinning like an i***t. Although River had had her picture taken multiple times before for different magazines and articles, she found herself…awkward when the young man turned his camera on her. She felt as if the lens of that camera and the eyes watching her behind that lens could see into her. It made her feel oddly cold. Not uncomfortable or scared, but exposed. Bare and stripped in a way she hadn’t been before. “You can just do what you were doing before,” he said. “Relaxed, staring off into the sunset.” Even though he was telling her to do so, River still felt a little self-conscious when she followed his instructions. She couldn’t hear the click of the camera over the noise of music and chatter, but he came up to her when it was done, hopping up on the concrete wall right beside her, already looking at the picture he had just taken. “You’re really photogenic,” he said, holding out the camera so she could see the picture he had just taken. River looked at it, narrowing her eyes to see it better. It was her, sitting on the wall, staring off into the sunset. You couldn’t see anything other than her back, and River immediately felt kind of silly for worrying about someone recognizing her if he posted her on the internet. “I’m not sure that’s true. It’s just my back.” He dimpled at her. “It’s a nice back.” River looked at him incredulously and the boy, either not noticing or not caring about her gaze on him, looked down at her bare feet which were dangling above the ten feet of concrete below them. She immediately tried to hide her feet when his eyes landed on them, folding them in on themselves in an attempt to make them disappear. “You’re not wearing shoes.” River curled her lips in until they disappeared and wished she could also do the same to her entire existence. “They…” She coughed. “They were stolen.” The boy stared at her blank-faced. “Someone stole your shoes?” River nodded. “And my things are all locked in my car, so I can’t get in there either…” The boy stared at her with that same expressionless face for a moment, and then out of nowhere, he started to laugh. River couldn’t help but think that he was really very beautiful at that moment, his eyes were lit up with amusement and his straight, white teeth were gleaming in the sunset. And his dimples. River had the oddest urge to pinch his cheek. Feeling kind of chagrined, River asked, “What’s so funny?” The boy shook his head, visibly struggling to bring his amusement to a halt, and said, “You seem so…put together. I didn’t expect for you to lose your shoes and lock all of your belongings in your car.” He laughed some more. “Okay,” he said after a good few seconds of laughter, he clapped his hands together and hopped off the concrete wall, dusting off his jeans. “There’s a shop just up there.” He pointed ahead but all River could see was a cluster of people and nameless shops scattered about. “I saw a shoe shop on my way over here. I’ll buy you a pair.” River snapped her gaze from where he had pointed back to the young man, standing there below her, staring up at her with that same open, honest expression and that infectious smile. “But—” “You can come with me and pick something out. I don’t know what size shoe you wear, after all.” And then he held his hand out for her to take. River stared at it for a moment before looking directly at him. “Haven’t you heard of stranger danger?” she asked, giving him another incredulous look. “I don’t know you from Adam.” “I’m Seo-Jun.” “I’m River,” she responded automatically. She kicked herself right after she had spoken, what if he decided to look her up. She didn’t want her aunt knowing where she was. Or even worse, what if he put two and two together and matched her name with her face. His face showed no signs that he recognized her name, though. With his hand still outstretched, he said, “There, now we’re not strangers.” River wanted to tell him that they were actually still strangers; she didn’t know him, after all. But as she looked down at his open face and the reassuring smile that made her want to smile back, the words seemed to get stuck in her throat. It was a first for her. She was never the type to choke on her words. It seemed like, today, she was experiencing many firsts. She reached her hand out and let their palms connect. Electricity. That’s what River felt coursing from his hand to hers when they connected. She glanced up at him, but his expression was unchanging—still open and friendly but nothing to indicate he had felt what she had felt. She looked away. After she was down, she made sure that was a good amount of distance between them. If he noticed her reluctance to be close to him, he didn’t speak on it. “New shoes it is, then.” He jerked his head in the direction he told her the stores were. “Come with me, River.” She did.   The space that River had put between them became obsolete the moment they entered the market space. Filled with dozens upon dozens of bodies, River was surprised she didn’t lose Seo-Jun in the crowd. Sweat beaded on her forehead and stuck her dress to her skin and her shoeless feet caused her to move slower, taking care not to step on any sharp rocks or possible broken glass. Seo-jun kept pace with her, never once looking the least bit put out with having to walk so slow. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying it all; this hustle and bustle, the lights of the marketplace against the increasingly darkening sky, and even the heat didn’t seem to be getting to him. A few times, River would notice that certain things would hold his attention and his hand would immediately go to the camera around his neck. River couldn’t help but wonder what that was like; what it must have felt like to love something so much that you reached for it subconsciously. “Here we are,” he said, touching her arm gently to stop her. There was a stall covered in fairy lights and manned by an old woman with caramel skin and a wild shock of white hair that seemed to be hastily pulled back in a messy ponytail. She grinned welcomingly at River and Seo-Jun when they stopped in front of her. In Spanish, she asked them to pick something and animatedly went on about how they should buy one of the shoes. Seo-Jun turned to look at River and held out a hand, signaling that she should choose which ones she wanted. River let her eyes trail along the shoe display. Sandals, flip-flops, none of them were things she’d particularly wear since River couldn’t recall a time where she hadn’t worn heels. The last time that she could dimly remember wearing flats was when she was sixteen and ever since then, she lived in high heels. Finally, her eyes landed on a pair of strappy sandals with a barely-there wedged heel, but it was all River thought she would feel comfortable in. Wearing flats would just give her a sense of…wrongness. When she pointed them out and told the shop owner in fluent Spanish that she wanted those, Seo-Jun looked at her in a sort of surprise that seemed to say he shouldn’t have been so surprised, and he dug into his pockets and handed the lady twenty pesos. Seo-Jun led River to a nearby bench that was somehow vacant. River sat down, feeling the lingering warmth of the sun that had completely disappeared underneath her hands. Seo-Jun knelt in front of her, carefully grabbing her ankle, her shoe in his free hand. “You don’t have to do that,” she said, feeling kind of embarrassed. Seo-Jun just looked up at her, offering her a grin. “I don’t exactly mind.” He dusted the dirt from the bottom of her feet before he slipped the sandal on, hooking the strap around her ankle so that it was secure. As he did the same thing to her other foot, River couldn’t help but wonder what they must have looked like to people who passed them; what they would look like if someone decided to take a picture and upload it to **. Undoubtedly, it would spread like wildfire the moment people realized it was her in the picture and this poor boy would be subjected to all kinds of scrutiny. Still, she felt comfortable with him; comfortable enough to let him do this for her even though she didn’t like being touched by strangers. He had touched her three times now, once to help her off the concrete wall, another time to direct her to the shoe shop, and now, as he fastened up the last sandal around her ankle. “There,” Seo-Jun said, coming up from where he was kneeling on the ground to sit beside her. He sat close enough that his arm brushed hers and she could feel the warmth of his arm bleeding through the thin fabric of her sleeves. “Thanks,” she said. “For the shoes. I’ll pay you back.” Seo-Jun waved a hand looking unbothered. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t really do it so you’d have to pay me back, anyway. I did it because I wanted to.” Out of nowhere, River’s stomach growled and she slapped her hand over it, mortified when Seo-Jun turned to look in her direction. As close as he was sitting to her, he could undeniably hear it, even over the chatter and music. Feeling the need to explain, she said, “I haven’t eaten since this afternoon. And all my money is…” “Stuck in your car?” She nodded. “Okay, then.” Seo-Jun hopped to his feet, holding his hand out for her to take again. River looked at it warily. Not because she was afraid that his hands would ever hurt her, but because she was afraid of the electric current she had felt before, the one she was certain only she had felt. “Come on. I’ll take you to get something to eat.” She looked up at him in surprise. “You don’t have to—” “I know. I’m not doing it because I have to. Besides, am I really expected to let a pretty woman starve?” He said it so naturally and nonchalantly that River almost didn’t notice him calling her pretty. It’s not like she hadn’t heard it before; people called her pretty all the time, more than that, they called her beautiful. There were entire fan accounts on ** dedicated to posting pictures and praising her looks. And yet, for some reason, when Seo-Jun said it, she could feel herself responding. It was like she had never been complimented before. Clearing her throat quietly, she reached out and touched his hand. The electricity was there this time, too, and it made her heart quicken. She could hear the old man’s song this time and now he sang about falling in love for the first time. “There’s a restaurant down there.” He pointed further down like he had when he told her about the shoe shop. “I’ll walk you back to wherever you’re staying after.” He dimpled at her. He began leading River to the restaurant in question and it took her a few seconds to realize Seo-Jun had yet to let go of her hand. He held on tightly, pulling her through the throng of people gently and he was so close that when the warm breeze blew, she could smell him. His hand, she thought, felt like it belonged there. Holding hers.