Echoes of Water Read online

  Echoes of Water

  A collection of short stories

  By Elijah Vazquez

  Copyright © 2021 Elijah Vazquez

  Thank you for downloading this eBook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Info

  Table of Contents

  Among The People

  Wingman

  Cacique’s Drum

  Room 304

  About the author

  Among the People

  Two trips, and ten years between them. The first trek was a visitorial matter, for the purpose of celebrating the holidays, the second a return to the unfamiliar, the forgotten. The country looked almost untouched in the decade that has passed since you’ve last seen it. The air smelled of plant life, smoldering in the wind. The heat beamed on your skin. The air was filled with insects and birds all flourishing in their environment, tantalizing in the amount of knowledge they had of the island. A small bird lands on the ground, and hops towards you.

  “It’s been a long time, friend” the bird says. “The land has not changed much, but I shall warn you. I have seen many of your kind return, but none are ever the same upon their exit.”

  Perplexed, you ponder the bird's little euphemism. “What do you mean by that, little friend?” you reply.

  “Beware of the people. Although you may see them on the outside as they are, they can see you just as clearly. They know that you do not belong here.” The bird hops away and then bound effortlessly into the blue sky.

  I do not belong here. The thought echoed through your mind for the rest of the day, even as you lay comfortably in the presence of your family. Everyone around you smiled, though the little bird’s words still pecked at you, making the smiles appear more like faux smirks. When night had come, you dreamt of the little bird, flying in the great blue sky above, and his beak moved as if to say something, but it was not clear.

  For days, the bird was in your head, leaving you to unravel its puzzling statement. What did it mean? How do they know? Who are they to tell you that you do not belong? The truth is, they don’t. As foreboding and euphemistic the birds remark was, one thing rings true. You are among the people. They see you, and you see them. You walk among them, speak their language, eat their food. You are as much the same. These are your people. So be not weary, for you belong.

  Wingman

  “One thing I will never forget is when my brother, Trevor, showed up to prom with that same baby blue tuxedo when we were kids,” David said from his table. The dining room was lined with guests, his brother included. “Hey, Trev, would you do the honors of telling the story for old times' sake?” David asked. Trevor walked up to where his brother sat next to his new wife and took the microphone.

  “Ha, what a guy, this one,” Trevor said. “You know, David, although the ‘baby,’ in our family, was always the one I imagined getting married before me. And to that I would just like to say, I am proud of you, little brother. Although, there isn’t a better story than the one I had this morning, on my way here. It went a little something like this,” Trevor said.

  The morning was cold and dry. Unusual temperatures for the fall, but then again, this is Chicago. Red leaves fell and were blown away to the third floor of an apartment building. A twig stuck to a window, and inside, the inhabitant woke, struck by dismay and fatigue.

  Trevor woke up and stretched. Although faint and fuzzy, he heard a small but familiar chime, and through the haze of his morning vision, located the source of the sound. It was his phone, blaring an alarm, and there were words next to the time. It read: ‘10:53 AM, DAVID’S WEDDING!’ Trevor’s eyes shot open, his attention now fully on his surroundings. Trevor quickly scanned the room, and to his dismay, it was a mess. Shoes were strewn everywhere; clothes littered the floor. He glanced over to the closet, and it was the same story there.

  “Okay, I DO NOT have time for this,” Trevor said. He got up from his bed

  Trevor tore through the dirty laundry pile, clearing a path to his closet, rummaging through the hanged clothing looking for his outfit. His tuxedo wasn’t there. Trevor panicked, his eyes darting from corner to corner in his room. Not the closet, not the nightstand, but ah ha! It was on the corner of the bed and…it had a hole. It had a hole!

  “Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me!” Trevor blurted out. He swiped up his phone, opened his maps application, and thumbed in a route to the nearest suit tailor. Forty-five minutes, fifty-seven. None of the shops that he needed to get to were close, and even still, the size of the hole would still need to take some time to fix. At that moment, Trevor’s gaze floated back to his closet. He only had to show up in a tuxedo, right? No one said anything about the type of tuxedo. Trevor fumbled through his closet and pulled a baby blue tuxedo from a hanger, unwrapping it from its plastic covering.

  “Alright, old friend. It looks like you’re gonna be my saving grace today. We’ve got a wedding to attend.” Trevor hopped in front of his mirror and got to work. First, the pants, then the shirt (which was a little tight for his liking, but it was a worthy sacrifice!), and then the tie. Trevor took a quick glance at himself in the mirror, flaunting his side profile. Looking good, handsome, he thought to himself. Enough runway talk, more getting ready! Trevor grabbed the baby blue coat that matched the rest of his outfit and examined it a bit. It was too long since he wore this, but the memories it carried would last forever. Trevor remembered fondly what happened that night all those years ago.

  “Come on, guys we’re going to be late!” David shouted from his room. Trevor, his date, and David’s date were in the living room, chatting as David came rushing down the stairs, his tie still loose in his maroon tuxedo. Trevor rolled his eyes and chuckled as he made his way to David.

  “Before you lecture me on my time management, first let's sort out your fashion fiasco,” Trevor said. He picked up his brother's tie, looped it up, and tied it neatly around his neck, where a wooden necklace carved in the shape of a wolf stood neatly below it. Trevor raised an eyebrow at his brother.

  “You’re wearing this to prom?” Trevor asked.

  “Yeah, and you aren’t?” David shot back.

  Trevor sighed and pulled the same necklace from beneath his tie.

  “Of course, I am. Us brothers got to stick together, remember?” Trevor said.

  “Always.” David said. They both smiled and laughed. “Hey girls, let’s get going, the fun’s going to start without us!” David shouted. The group headed off into the night, the boys gleaming as they all left in their limo.

  Trevor’s train of thought was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. It was a text from his mother, reading: ‘Hey, the ceremony is almost ready to go, where are you?’ Trevor’s eyes went wide. He slipped on his jacket, put his shoes on, and grabbed his keys to his car. Once inside, he looks at his face once more in the mirror. Everything seems good, but he feels like he is missing something. He scans up and down his body and realizes he doesn’t have his necklace. He glanced at his phone for the time, it read: ’11:25 AM’.

  “Not too much time, but I can make it work,” Trevor said. He got out of his car and rushed back upstairs to his apartment, where the search for his necklace ensued. Trevor burst through his door and scanned the room. Besides the usual mess of clothes and other pleasantries, there was no sign of his small wooden necklace.

  Where could this thing be? Trevor thought. He checked the time for just a moment, and the clock read: ‘11:30 AM’. It’s do-or-
die. Trevor rushed to his bathroom, ripping through the medicine cabinet, checking behind the sink and the toilet, even in the shower. Nothing. He ran out of the bathroom door and frantically scanned his room. The bed? Possibly. The nightstand? A stretch, but still within reason. He shuffled over to his bed, fumbled with the sheets, and shook them. Next, he checked the nightstand, the drawer, and everything behind it.

  Trevor looked over to the mirror, where he saw himself. His hair was tossed and full of sweat. Admittedly, he looked defeated. He took a few steps forward and brushed the top of his head. What a mess, he thought. Trevor stared at his reflection and peered slightly to the left. There, he found his wolf necklace, dangling by its thread on the mirror edge. Trevor grabbed it and rubbed it with his thumb, a big smile forming on his face.

  On their way to the country club where their prom was being held, Trevor and David encountered the Dorian brothers. They have had a rivalry for the past two years, and everyone at school knew about it. Trevor was the first one to spot the pair, nudging his brother to draw attention to them.

  “Don’t look now but guess who decided to show their big heads tonight,” Trevor said. David looked around and noticed the Dorian brothers standing around next to the football team members. They noticed both Trevor and David and stopped to look their way. The boys grimaced at one another, keeping eye contact until they reached the country club.

  Inside, the boys had a fun time. They danced, laughed, and took photos with their friends. David excused himself from his brother and friends to go to the bathroom. He passed many couples, photo takers, photo bombers, and the occasional goofball, and entered the restroom. He looked at himself in the mirror, admiring the maroon color he chose for the night. Classy, if I do say so myself, he thought. David heard the door to the restroom open, two familiar voices entered. He turned around to find the Dorian brothers turning the corner, big hyena-like grins on their faces.

  “Hey, Evan, look who had to tinkle,” one of the brothers said. David dried his hands and raised an eyebrow to the two.

  “So, I take it you have some business with me and my brother?” David said.

  “Well, he’s not here right now, so just you will have to do.” Evan said. “Bryan, get his arms.” The pair jumped on David, one seizing his arms, and the other cracking his knuckles.

  Trevor looked around for his brother. He was spending quite some time in the bathroom. Trevor made his way out of the hall and to the restroom. Before opening the door, he could hear noises coming from the inside. Trevor opened the door cautiously, and walked in. The bathroom was empty, and the back stall had been opened. Trevor walked to the stall and peered in. He gasped and sprawled to the floor to recover his brother. David was beaten and battered, his nose and suite bloodied, and his eyes blackened. He sputtered and cried as his brother embraced him.

  “Did they do this to you?” Trevor asked. David nodded. They both collected themselves, and Trevor ushered his brother to the sink. He wiped his nose and his suit; scarlet stains painted his white shirt.

  Trevor had never felt for his brother more than at that moment. He remembered the anger he held towards the Dorian brothers. And on that night, like his brother, Trevor stained his baby blue tuxedo with red stains.

  Trevor looked at his phone. He still had about twenty minutes to make it to the venue. No time to waste. He grabbed his necklace, fixed his hair, and got in his car. He took a moment to text his mother back and headed to the venue.

  “So, that was my day today, and I’m just glad that I was able to be here for my brother on the big day,” Trevor said. He gave the microphone back to David, and he put it back on the stand.

  “My brother, everyone.” David said. He walked away from his table and pulled his brother aside. “Hey, thanks for showing up, but seriously, why didn’t you have something planned for a fiasco such as this?” David said gesturing to his brother’s tuxedo. Trevor smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

  “It was the only thing I had on such short notice. You know planning isn’t a part of my skillset.” Trevor said.

  “Clearly, it isn’t.” David said. He looked at his brother’s neck and saw that his wooden wolf was hanging delicately around it. “You kept it. Glad to know I was right to do so myself.” He spoke. David pulled his wooden necklace out from underneath his collar.

  “Us brothers have to stick together, remember?” Trevor said. David smiled at him and gave his brother a hug.

  “Loud and clear, big bro.” David said.

  Trevor and David walked back towards the venue, laughing, and making others smile. Most of their life has been full of difficulties, but through all of it, they were always by each other’s side. Now, as they cheer and be merry, new memories are made, and new stories blossom in their joy.

  Cacique’s Drum

  My father was many things. He was a liar, a thief, and a con-artist. But above all, he was a good father to me and my siblings. In my early life, my relationship with my father was a bit close in nature. But as I grew into a man, I began to see the faults he hid above his head. Though, I do not blame him, for he knew that everything in life is not guaranteed. And I will never forget our time on the beach, where he used to bring me and my siblings when we were young. The stars gleamed over a midnight sky, and the tides reflected the shimmering white light of the moon. We spoke about the past, buried beneath countless tears, and the bruises now healed on our brown skin. And considering all that he beseeched, my father asked me but one thing; To never forget the past.

  “Why even remember it?” I asked. He shared a look of both concern and reluctance, his eyes twinkling against the moons beaming light.

  “I want you to remember the times that were good. The times that we shared together. To let the past die, is to forget who you are,” he said, motioning to his old drum made of leather and genuine palm wood. “This drum was given to me by my father. And now I’m giving it to you.” he said, handing me the drum. I remember its slick wooden shell, the roughness of the skin, and solidness of the frame.

  “You want me to play?” I asked. He looked at me with an eager smile, the one he always made. I took a deep breath and sighed, abiding by this peculiar request from an old man. I closed my eyes, squared the drum between my legs, and gave it a solid tap. The drums beat rang out towards the ocean, the sound of the tide slowly swallowing its echo. I raised my hand again, eyes still closed, and hit it again. This time, the waves grew quieter. I hit it again, and again, and once more. The final beat of the drum had fully ceased, which was odd to me at first. But rather than opening my eyes, I kept them shut and kept playing.

  There was something about the drum beat that was almost familiar. As I kept beating against the rough skin with my hand, various images and colors fled across the darkness of my closed eyes. Voices waned in and out of the colorful cacophony of sound. I saw people dancing over a lit flame, children running and playing, a baby crying. The beat of the drum grew steadier, and the last image I saw was of an old man, standing over the ocean, a smile donning his face. And with the wash of a wave, he disappeared. I finally opened my eyes and gasped. I looked over to where my father sat, and he lay motionless on his back, a smile crossing his face. “Dad?” I called out. I was met by the sound of the waves crashing against the sand, and a sky pregnant with stars. The full moon beamed against the ocean. My father was many things. And even as I lay still next to him, staring into the night sky, the gradual stream of tears blurred the stars that observed us from above.

  Room 304

  The clerk looked at Michael’s tie, disgusted at the horrendous pattern as she went to give him his key to the motel room. The key landed in his hand, and he was told to have a good afternoon, to which he replied ‘likewise’ and moved on, rolling his eyes as he walked down the hallway. Not only did he finish one of the most dragged-out office meetings in his career, today was his mother's birthday, and she told him she would visit his motel to spend it with him. Fantastic.

  Michael walked into the r
oom labeled ‘304’ at the top. It was not as bad as he thought it would be. The double beds were nicely made, the linens smelling of lavender and aloe. The carpet was nice and tucked against the doors edge as he walked on it, soft and firm as he took each step. On the nightstand sat a small rotary phone, like the one he was familiar with growing up in his childhood home. Michael smiled. His father would always use their phone, smiling and laughing, even as he grew old, and his condition worsened. Those were good times. Michael picked it up, feeling the shiny earpiece in his hands, an image of his father's smile flashing over his mind.

  Michael took off his tie and placed it on the bed, sighing deeply. He picked up his cell phone and called his mother, half-hoping she would not pick up. She did.

  “Hey sweetie! How was your meeting today?” she asked.

  “Wonderful as always, Mom.” Michael said. “You wouldn’t happen to not be heading this way, right?” he asked.

  “Michael, you know how important this day is to us,” she said.

  “Well, it is your birthday.” Michael said.

  “And what does that have to do with anything? It is my birthday, and I choose to spend it with you. Is that not something I can wish for if anything?” she asked.

  I know what I would wish for Michael thought. “Fair enough. Did Jackson stop by at all?” he asked.

  “Your brother is a busy person, so I understand if he couldn’t make it.” she said.

  “Ah, so his time is of more value by that logic, huh?” Michael said.

  “Not at all, Michael. Lord knows your father and I split everything between you equally.” she said.

  “Right. Like all the times I helped around the house while he was in college. Or when Dad got sick, and I had to quit my job to be there for him while he was walking the stage and getting his master's degree. Sure. Equality at its finest, Mom.”