MELLAO AND THE LIGHT THAT DIDN’T WANT TO RETURN
Mellao found a light beneath the water.
He saw it among the seaweed, just as the sun was beginning to disappear behind the harbour.
It was small. Very small.
It blinked three times and went dark.
Mellao moved closer.
The light appeared again. Once. Twice. Three times.
Then nothing.
Mellao waited.
It appeared again. Once. Twice. Three times.
«Hello.»
His voice travelled through the water.
A school of fish shot out from between the rocks.
Mellao closed his mouth. He waited for them to come back.
«Sorry.»
The light was still there.
Mellao watched it for a while.
It looked like a star.
But stars did not usually hide beneath the water.
He reached out one finger.
The light vanished.
Mellao pulled his hand back.
The light returned.
He reached out another finger. Gone. He pulled it away. Back again.
Mellao frowned.
«You don’t like being touched.»
The light blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.
«I’ll take that as a yes.»
Mellao smiled.
The smile showed far too many teeth.
The light went out.
«All right.»
He became still. Very still.
As still as an enormous shark with three hundred teeth and a hand large enough to cover a whole buoy could possibly be.
He held still, and the light returned.
This time it stayed on for several seconds.
Mellao could see it properly.
It wasn’t a star.
It was a little lamp, fastened to a piece of wood.
And the wood was wedged between two rocks.
Mellao reached out.
Then stopped.
He looked at the lamp. He looked at his hand.
His hand seemed too big again.
He tried with one finger.
The wood shifted. The lamp blinked.
Mellao pulled his finger away.
«Sorry.»
He waited for the current to slip between the rocks.
The wood moved again.
Then Mellao understood that the lamp wasn’t trapped.
It was trying to get out.
And it had been bumping against the same two stones all afternoon.
Mellao looked around.
There was nobody there. No boats. No fish. No rope.
Only the little light and the water slowly growing darker.
He could get it out.
That was easy. Too easy.
Mellao knew easy things could become difficult when you were his size.
He’d learned that in the Valley, long before the harbour.
So he did something he wasn’t especially good at.
He waited for the water to do the work.
The current pushed.
The wood moved a little. Back. Forward again.
It struck the rocks.
The lamp went dark.
Mellao held his breath.
The light did not return.
He waited. Nothing.
«Oh no.»
He looked at the rocks. He looked at the lamp. He looked at his hands.
Then he looked up.
The surface was almost black.
Across the harbour, the first lights were coming on.
Mellao looked at the little lamp again.
And then he had an idea.
He couldn’t pull it free.
But perhaps he could move the stone that was stopping it.
He slipped one finger between the two rocks.
He pushed very slowly.
The stone moved. Too much.
Mellao stopped pushing.
The stone settled back into place.
The lamp remained dark.
Mellao closed his eyes. He thought.
Then he opened his mouth.
«I’m not moving the stone.»
A gull passed overhead.
Mellao looked up.
«Neither are you.»
The gull kept flying.
Mellao looked back at the lamp and waited, until the current returned, this time from the other side.
The wood lifted. Turned. Slipped between the two stones.
And came free.
Mellao’s eyes widened.
The little lamp came back on. Once. Twice. Three times.
The wood kept floating.
Mellao followed.
He did not touch it. He simply swam underneath.
The light moved ahead of him.
Sometimes it stopped. Sometimes it turned.
Once it drifted back towards the rocks.
Mellao did not follow. He stayed still until the current carried it back into the open water.
They went on like that for a long while.
Until the pier appeared.
Mellao stayed below.
The lamp reached a small ladder. There it caught.
Mellao sighed.
«Now I can.»
He reached out one finger.
But before he could touch it, he heard a voice.
«There it is!»
Mellao looked up.
A boy was sitting on the edge of the pier, a rope looped around his arm.
He knelt. Reached down.
The lamp caught on the rope.
The boy pulled. He lifted it out. Then hugged it to his chest.
Mellao stayed beneath the water.
The boy looked at the little light. Then he looked at the sea.
«I thought you weren’t coming back.»
Mellao said nothing.
The boy lifted the lamp. Its light fell across his face.
«It belonged to my grandfather.»
Mellao looked away.
The boy was quiet for a few seconds.
Then he smiled.
«Thank you.»
Mellao thought about answering.
He could have said he hadn’t done anything. He could have said the current had carried it. He could have said he had only been there.
In the end, he said:
«You’re welcome.»
The words came so softly they did not move a single wave.
The boy smiled again.
Then he left.
Mellao stayed beneath the pier.
He watched the little light disappear into the harbour.
Then he looked at his own hands.
They were still enormous. They could still break many things.
That had not changed.
Something else had: he no longer needed everything he found to need him.
Sometimes it was enough to stay close.
Above the water, the lamp moved towards the harbour.
Below it, Mellao followed for a few minutes.
Then he stopped.
He let it go on without him.
He looked up.
The moon had just appeared.
Mellao looked at it. He smiled.
And slowly sank.
Above, the little light kept moving. Once. Twice. Three times.
Then it went on its way.
A DOOR TO ANOTHER PLACE
Santiago Copí