The Day It Rained

I have been working on a manuscript for a novel now for a couple of years. The novel is about life in Chimbote, a city on the northern coast of Peru -- where I lived for a few years in the 1980s. One of the really hard parts of writing is cutting out the unessential parts. Here is one of the pieces that had to go. It is nevertheless a good story I think.

Flor shivered at the sight of the man seated with the small white coffin at the back of the bus. Daniel had died only two weeks earlier, and the image of the small white coffin revived painful memories. He was only 14 when he died. Towards the end, he was so weakened that he couldn’t do more than sit up for short periods. Yet, he was such a special child, quiet, caring. He demanded nothing and appreciated everything. Flor had done her best to care for him, but she was alone; his father had disappeared years ago. She had done everything possible to keep him comfortable and to encourage him to eat, though he had difficulty keeping anything down. Some women from the city had offered to help her. They belonged to some organization or other that was supposed to look after women who were raising families alone. At least they had been able to get some medicine for Daniel. The day before his death she had sent word for the priest to come to bring him communion. Daniel had never been baptized, and she didn’t go to church herself. Well, she hardly had time for that. Anyway, he came, and they talked. Daniel had no idea what communion was, but when the priest asked him, he nodded and said that yes, he would like that. The priest promised to return the next morning. When Flor had thanked him, the priest paused for a moment before asking if she realized that the boy was dying. She folded her arms across her chest, bowed slightly as if she were examining the floor and, in a soft voice said, yes, she realized that.
“Have you talked with him about it,” he said. “He is aware he is dying, you know, but he doesn’t want to upset you. I think that if you were to talk to him about his death, it would help him. This may be your last chance to have a real heart-to heart chat with him.”

She had so many things she had wanted to tell Daniel, but she hadn’t wanted to upset him.
“Let him enjoy his last days,” she had thought.
Looking up into the face of the priest, she considered the suggestion and promised to think about it.
Later in the day, she had sat down beside Daniel, who was lying in their only bed, and asked him how he felt. After some back and forth, he had finally said that he realized that his strength was fading. Flor wanted to seize that moment, but she didn’t know quite how to formulate the question. She laid her hand over his and squeezed it. “I will miss you so much,” she said. Daniel tried to push himself up and reached out to hold her neck. They embraced silently.
With that they had begun to talk about Daniel’s life, his birthdays, the trip they had once made back to her parent’s home years before, his favorite foods. She told him how much she loved him and cried. He put his hand on her shoulder and told her how much he loved her and how grateful he was for the sacrifices she had made. He asked her to forgive him the trouble he had caused her. As she tried to protested, he held up a hand and said he knew she had suffered because of him. He promised never to forget her, to watch over her from heaven and to protect her. They embraced, both of them lost in tears. She said that it was all right that he could leave her; that he had suffered enough. She told him that she would always remember him as a dear son whom she held in her heart.
Later, as he slept, she caressed his hair, and her mind lingered over all the moments they had shared. After a couple of hours his breathing became shallow and then quietly stopped.
When the priest arrived in the morning, Daniel was lying on the only table in their little hut. Flor stood quietly beside the table as the prayers were recited for the eternal rest of the boy. Just as they ended, a couple of ladies arrived with a car to take them up the hill for the burial. They marked the spot with a simple wooden cross and a couple of flowers.