A week after saying goodbye to her dad, in a hazy morning half-dream, she found herself in a confusing rush through a maze of corridors. She was running somewhere, remembering nothing, only aware that she desperately needed a phone.
It was summer, and friends Sophie and Molly had arrived at the seaside for their much-awaited holiday. Their room was small but very close to the sea. All day, they lounged in the sun, their skin already bronzed, craving more sunbathing and time on the sand. At noon, the sun blazed mercilessly, and everything seemed to melt, even the air. It was as hot as a sauna and hard to breathe.
“I can’t take this anymore,” Sophie said, getting up from her towel. “Let’s go somewhere else. It’s so hot here, we’ll turn into crisps soon.”
“I agree,” replied Molly. “Let’s find a café. It’ll be cooler there, and we can have lunch at the same time.”
The friends headed to a local café where they could sit in the shade and enjoy a delicious snack. There was a long queue with people like them—waiting and eager.
Sophie covered her head with a book, shielding herself from the scorching sun, having forgotten her hat at home and squinting into the light.
“Are you alright?” Molly asked. “I’ll grab us some ice cream to cool us down.”
“Shall I come with you?” Sophie offered.
“Oh no!” Molly flatly refused. “Look at the queue. We’ll lose our spot. Stay here!”
Molly walked off, leaving Sophie feeling bored. She stood next to the warm concrete building under the blazing sun. The queue hardly moved, so she squinted her eyes.
Soon, there was a ringing in her ears, and everything blurred in her mind. She imagined herself far out at sea, with the shore nowhere in sight. As she lay on the water, which somehow wasn’t salty, she took a few sips and instantly felt better. An enormous, beautiful rainbow arched across the sky, and the water shimmered like marbles in a kaleidoscope. Everything was so beautiful around her. She felt as light as a feather on the waves, filled with happiness… People were walking on the rainbow. Among them, she saw her father, who had passed on a year ago. He turned towards her, waving with a smile.
Suddenly, she heard voices from above.
“Here, over here!” they called together. “Give a hand! Pull her up.”
Some hands grabbed and hauled Sophie into a boat. She rested, not wanting to leave the water, while the voices grew clearer, mostly women.
“Who’s got the ammonia? More water!”
Sophie came to, opening her eyes.
“Phew, my dear,” breathed Molly, relieved. “You scared me! I was so worried!”
Sophie was startled and disappointed to find herself on the café’s porch instead of the sea.
“It was sunstroke, darling!” her friend murmured, thanking others for their help. “I kept telling you, ‘Take a hat, take a hat!’ and you were like, ‘Yes, sure!’ And look where we are now!”
The people moved away.
“Molly,” Sophie said thoughtfully. “I saw Dad. It’s been almost a year, and he still looked young.”
The girls finally stepped into the café and sat at a table. Sophie was still pondering the unexpected encounter with her father.
A week after parting with her father, in the morning, in a vague half-sleep, she found herself desperately running through a labyrinth of hallways. Somewhere she ran, remembering nothing, aware only of her urgent need for a phone. She needed one desperately.
She dashed into an unfamiliar room. There was an old-fashioned phone hanging on the wall, worn and faded. Delighted, she picked up the receiver and shouted:
“Hello! Hello!”
“It’s alright! Sophie, what happened?” her dad’s voice echoed. “Calm down and tell me. I’ll help as much as I can.”
In life, her father wasn’t very talkative, and when he wanted to ask something, he always began with a quick “Alright.” Sophie was glad to hear her father’s voice, with all its familiar tones. She quickly told him everything: about herself, her mother, her cousin who defended her thesis three days after his passing. He hadn’t lived to see that day, but she did him proud.
“Dad, can you believe it?” she laughed. “Just as promised, she aced it!”
Then she paused, as if awake from a dream.
“Hello, Dad!” she shouted into the phone. “Dad, you’re not here! How is it possible that we’re talking?”
“Sometimes,” her father said, “if you truly want it, it happens, my daughter, it happens.”
Her father hadn’t believed in mysticism when he was alive; he was a materialist. Now, curiously, he assured her otherwise. Waking up, she recalled the moment sitting with Molly at the café, gazing at the rainbow over the water.
And now… She still couldn’t shake the feeling that her father was somehow close, supporting her every day.
