The Missing Bride: a cellphone novel by Alysse Aallyn

Chapter 23 – Dream Island

Do you have a spare phone?”
“Sure,” said Derek,
“Brand new trac phone in my dad’s office
Still in the packaging. And
Plenty of air miles burning holes in my pocket.
Do you need a passport?”
“It’s only Florida. Isla Ensueno.”

Isla Ensueno is a resort
In a bird sanctuary –
Luckily Derek’s air miles included the
Pink stucco hotel.

“No one by that name,” the desk clerk told me so
Patiently. What kind of avatar name would
Mirabel choose? He wouldn’t stand for
Guessing so I tried describing her –
But the clerk refused to play.
Tomorrow was earliest I could
Check in and prowl.
It’s a very small island
Only one hotel.
Thoughts assailed uncomfortably –
That oh-so familiar feeling –

Dinned into me by every adult I’ve ever met
That I do everything wrong
And require their help
Going forward.
Typical teenage impulsiveness.
Was this far enough away –
So Mirabel could feel safe?
Or was she making it easier
For her sister to track her?

Would she have some new man in tow
Whose identity she could hide behind?
I’d had just one chance –
Using up those air miles – had I blown it?
Dream Island was gorgeous – as I found out
The very next day – and it had a
Shabbiness guaranteeing she’d meet
No one she knows.

As I circumnavigated the island’s
Walking trail; studying the world
Through my binoculars
A certain peace overtook me.
Peace that evolved an idea
Stemming from my quest for Mirabel’s
Avatar. What can you do
When your game goes horribly wrong?

Even if my guess was off
There remained one intriguing
Possibility: what if one the thing
Mirabel coveted was her own
Younger self?
Even at fourteen I felt that nostalgia –
Viewed my confident eleven-year-old
Incarnation with envy.

If Mirabel decided
To re-set her game –
Make different choices
Finally become “real”?
Systematically I searched every nook
Old trees shading privacy; interrupted
Lovers: peered under
Awnings, stared boldly through
Sunglasses. The trail wound around
A sand beach cove and up to
The lighthouse; sea breeze made me shiver.
Put me In the mood to climb the lighthouse.

Hundreds of steps – quite a trudge –
And I was quite alone. Possibly these
Holiday-makers were all just too old.
I came up to a sign:
“SSSSHHH! MEDITATION IN SESSION!”
I tamed my hard breathing –
Climbed the final steps
Silently. One teacher – an elderly man –
Perfect lotus position –
His eyes closed – six students –

Their backs to me
Gauze shirts, t-shirts,
Ponytails – no hair in Mirabel’s
Color. A couple of blondes and one boy –
Balding, maybe chemo?
Studied him thoughtfully, then felt
I was hallucinating.
Isn’t that Mirabel?