The waiting always made him tense, inside would return the anxiousness of childhood; Then he would be there, back on the windowsill of the wooden house on stilts that hugged the river. He would stare hour after through the window expectant unable to contain his excitement.
"papa was coming!"
The hum of each car engine making its way up the narrow lane made his heart leap.
He was sure this would be the gleaming new car his father would be driving but as the car did not slow he would look on in disbelief as it passed by the house.
Slowly the hope would fade in tandem with the dying light of the day and his mama would come into the room,she would gently lift her crying son into her arms and carry him to bed.
Now nearing forty he was sat in the late spring sun outside a cafe in the heart of Palma, staring out over the square, again waiting for his father. As he lit another cigarette he felt the knot tighten sharply in his stomach, it had been over two years since they last met and as time carried them through the lives like lost vessels at sea, they became separated by those vast bodies of water. He knew that they would both feel the same awkwardness once they spotted the other, each man at opposing ends of the square. They would be strangers, longing to feel love but between them flowed a river full of anger, guilt, distrust and regret, its waves would foam up in each of them, threatening to crash down on them.
The hug and the kiss uncomfortable, forced almost as if this was a first meeting; The conversation staccato, stop...start....stop, long pauses as both decided what to say, or what not to.
This how their relationship existed, a constant navigation between ever arriving storms.
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