Sarapiqui: Page 4 of 4

There are such things as small miracles. On the spine of the cordillera, Jenny and Matthew, friends from Scotland, also had a dairy. There, weather was encapsulated in swirling fog and spitting clouds nearly every day. In the afternoon, the day after I quarreled with Ari, Jenny unexpectedly came to see me.

“I had to find some sunshine!” she said. “How about an early dinner at Las Nubes, my treat?”

“I look like a drudge, Jen...”

“You are a drudge I suspect. Just comb your hair. Don’t worry about your rubber boots. It’s a broom swept floor and it’s just an outgrowth of somebody’s kitchen anyway. But look at your hands, Luv. What the hell have you been doing with them?”

“Hand washing clothes...no electricity. Yes, I’d love to go to dinner with you.”

I nearly ran to the barn where Jacob and Liam were with Ari and a new calf. “I’m going out to dinner with Jenny, guys.” If I could jump and click my heels together in rubber boots I would have. “There’s black bean soup on the stove and fresh eggs to scramble and tomatoes to slice for your dinner.”

I knew I would hear three negatives if I waited for a reply, so I turned and left as quickly as I could while pulling my hair back into a ponytail.

When I got into Jenny’s car, she said, “Matthew and I are leaving. We may even divorce but we’re giving ourselves a year in Edinburgh to decide if it us or the feckin’ farm. Either way we’re miserable.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that...I mean, I will miss you.”

“As if we see each other very much anyway. Seriously, Espy, we are worried about you. You are so isolated. You’re hiding your light under a bushel, as we say in the ol’ country. Frankly, you look depressed. At least Matthew and I have some money from our families, but we know how bad things are for you. Why are you staying on?”

“I guess we don’t want to give up, we don’t want to prove the naysayers right and there are the boys...”

“Look, I would never say this if we weren’t leaving right away, but one reason we haven’t visited is that Matthew can’t stand Ari. He calls him a Big Bloviating Bovine.

Don’t give me the shite about the boys, either. They’ll be happy when you are, where you are. Have you ever noticed you talk in ‘we’ all the time? What about ‘I’? What about taking the reins or setting your foot down? Ari’s not going to change, not without some kind of catalyst.”

“He’s drinking a six pack each afternoon. Ari’s always been audacious, but now he’s nasty and drunk by bedtime. Every night. There’s no way to reason with him.” I changed the subject, “Jenny, how can you leave right away? What will happen to the livestock and your beautiful home?”

“Money, dearie. We have some money. We have an agent who will sell the equipment and animals, the farm and our furniture, then a shipping company will send the rest to merrie ol’ Scotland. Tell me something, Espy. If you could go home, how would you describe Costa Rica to your friends? Be honest, now!” Jenny asked.

“If I were asked to describe my memories of Costa Rica, I would say it reminds me of the simple boutique where I bought needle and thread to mend our clothes. That’s a good metaphor for Costa Rica; small, neat, colorful and almost everything is done by hand. I might describe uniformed school children who asked me to speak to them in English so they can learn English too, or I could recall my son, who, in kindergarten at age five, stood almost as tall as his sweet teacher. Education of young children is very important to Costa Ricans. That would give a good picture of it, I think.”

“I don’t hear anything about the farm. Does that tell you something?” Jenny asked.

I was quiet when we walked into Las Nubes and sat down. What came to mind about our own farm were the late afternoons when clouds parted and cast pink and orange shadows over green hills. There were rainbows, always rainbows, arcos de iris!

“Jenny, when I think of our farm, I don’t see people in it....not even my family. I don’t see the drudgery or the workers who have to do almost everything without machinery...”

“Maybe it’s breaking your heart that it’s not everything you hoped and it’s too painful to say so. I think that’s what happened to Matthew and me. We started to blame each other when things went wrong. We weren’t afraid to roll up our sleeves and work hard, but there were endless setbacks, I’m sure you know. Who could have predicted your cows would die of anaplasmosis? Sometimes, I think our dairy crew knew what we didn’t. We were foolish foreigners who thought we knew everything, and they were taking bets to see how long we lasted here. They knew how hard it was...”

I was still upset by last night’s confrontation with Ari, so I said, “I will miss you, Jenny. Even if we don’t see each other very much, it’s been a comfort to know that you and Matthew were not too far away. I’m being selfish, but I wish you wouldn’t go.”

***

While he took our order, the owner of the little restaurant told us that a twelve- year-old boy had just been arrested for killing his stepfather with a machete during an argument. The family lived in Sarapiqui. “Oh, God,” I said to Jenny, “living here is so difficult for everyone! Small isn’t necessarily beautiful. Primitive isn’t the same thing as la pura vida, the pure life, is it?”

On the long drive through the cloud forest, back to Sarapiqui, I watched the side of the road where candles had been placed in empty coffee tins. The campesinos believed the dead man’s spirit would leave home tonight, so a path was lighted for him. I almost thought I could hear wailing in the dripping forest and tears filled my eyes, not so much for the slain man, but for the boy who was condemned forever. I had to take my sons home to New England where their lives would not be as desperate as his. Ari and I were desperate, too. Our marriage had crumbled under the weight of reality.

Clouds opened in an evening squall. “Jenny, I might say Costa Rica is terribly gray with fog, clouds, torrential rain and loss. That’s true, too.” I felt a change happen in myself, as if a dim candle just ignited within me. “Ah, If I were living in New England again, it wouldn’t be so difficult to visit you in Scotland. I’ll miss you so much, but thank you for helping me see...”

“Nonsense, Luv,” she said. Then she was quiet while she concentrated on driving through the buffeting downpour.

“When I can, I’ll leave, too, Jen. I’ll make do somehow, then take Liam and Jacob home, with or without Ari.”