BATTERY FREE BIKE LIGHT

Delores and I sat on a blue paisley blanket laid on top of the sand. Summer had was just starting and the air was humid and hot. Down a small gentle slope, people were walking along a path down to the beach which had just been reopened. Earlier in the morning, workers combed a small stretch of the shoreline; picking up yesterday’s trash until the sand had lost its blemishes. Delores watched the waves and laid the folds of her dress across the blanket and smoothed her hair with her fingers. She looked content and I was glad.

I took the things out from the basket: rice dumplings, onigiri, mochi-dango we had made and cooled earlier in the morning, pickled vegetables, and chilled green tea. Because we forgot to bring the beach umbrella, after everything was laid out, I went back to the car for the small umbrella that I stored in the trunk in case of rainy days. I sat down and poured Delores the chilled tea as she uncovered the small bento boxes.

We were south of Okinawa along a stretch of shoreline known as Mibaru beach by the locals. For a Sunday, there were not that many people. It was still May and even though the air was humid and hot, people had not recognized that summer already began. Except for the few that families and surfers down by the tide, on either side of us, were long stretches of white sand.

Delores quietly sang bossa nova songs in Portuguese. “Sing with me,” she said.
“I don’t know any Portuguese,” I said.
“Then sing in English.”
“But I don’t know the words.”
“Then make up your own words, like how you always do when we’re listening to your records.” Delores started to sing a different song. It was “Once I Loved” by Astrud Gilberto, it was a song that I played for her many times. She carried it for a few lines but stopped when she realized I wouldn’t follow her lead. “You’re no fun John.”
“You didn’t fall in love with me for the fun did you?” I leaned back on my forearm and had a bite from an onigiri, “I’ve always wanted to come here with you.”
Delores stopped singing and looked at the waves and people on the beach, “And now we’re here.”
“I know. But there are still so many other places.”
“Like America?”
“Yes, like America.”
“I want to go there first before we go to Brazil.”
“Why not?”
“Because when my father sees you this time he’ll want you to take over the business and our time will be gone.”
“That’s not happening anytime soon,” I said.
“Then I should just stay in America with you after this.”

Another young couple walked past us. The boy walked slightly ahead of the girl and she followed him as if she was counting the steps to maintain the distance. Delores moved the umbrella so that the shade covered my face as well as hers. This exposed her outside shoulder to the sun so I gently nudged her hand away, “I’m fine.” She looked at me with concern but her hand stayed.

“Do you think we’ll ever see Seishiro again?” she said.
“I’m sure we will. He gave us his address didn’t he? I have it written down back at the hotel.”
“Where is he in America?”
“He’s in a place called Philadelphia. It’s not too far from where I live.”
“In a way, I’m worried for him. Like a big sister. He was so brave. Even though we only had the chance to know him for a few days, I think he was very brave, leaving everything behind like that for a girl who he wasn’t even sure if she loved him –”
“Much less, if she even remembered him.”
“Yes.”

“Would you that for me John?” Delores said.
“Well, I know that you love me and that I’m laying right here, next to you.”
“I mean, if you didn’t know that.”
“I would.”
“But you always go back home after a while. Seishiro told us that he’s not coming back to Okinawa, no matter what,” Delores said.
“Seishiro and I are different; he’s just a boy...he can be brave because he doesn’t know better.”
“No. I think both of you are the same; you’re still just a boy too. It just two years ago when you had the same look and feeling about you as Seishiro did.”
“But that was two and half years ago Delores,” I said.
“I didn’t mean say that you aren’t like that anymore. You still are, even if you don’t believe it yourself. You just can’t see it.”

Delores loosened her hold on the umbrella and an ocean breeze lifted it from her hands and carried it into one of the tiny sand dunes behind us. Behind the sand dunes was the small road which we drove along in the morning. It was now dotted with rolls of family cars and bicycles. I picked the umbrella up and let the sand slide off. I looked at the slope that came down Delores’ neck. It softened down her shoulders and then plunged down her arms before softening again along curves of her fingers and into the paisley blanket.

She had always seemed so frail when I looked at her in this way. It made me feel melancholic but I had never told her this. When I first met her, she had never seemed this way but the feeling became increasingly strong as the months drifted by and with each time I returned home. Sometimes, I would think that it was my fault and that he

Bianchi Milano step-through, XLC 50# rated rear rack, Basil Cardiff pannier baskets (rated 20# ea): perfect set up. Squee, i squee! And i wrapped my u-lock in soft cosy "don't scratch my frame" stuffs.
The Basil baskets lift off, they just hook over the edges of the rack. When i want to leave them on at a public rack i have a small cable combo lock, pass it around the rack, through the hooks *and* basket handles so they don't budge.