A week after she bid farewell to her father, she found herself in a morning daze, stumbling through a maze of hallways. She was running somewhere, remembering nothing, only aware of her urgent need for a phone. She desperately needed it.
It was summer, and friends Sophie and Grace had arrived at the seaside for their long-awaited holiday. The room was small but very close to the ocean. They spent the entire day sunbathing, their skin already a deep tan, and their desire to lie on the sand grew stronger. At noon, the sun blazed mercilessly, and everything seemed to melt, even the air. It was as hot as a sauna, making it hard to breathe.
“I can’t take it anymore,” said Sophie, rising from her towel. “Let’s go somewhere. It’s so hot here; we’ll soon turn into crisps.”
“I agree,” Grace replied, suggesting, “Let’s go to a café. It’ll be cool, and we can have lunch at the same time.”
The friends headed to a nearby café where they could sit in the shade and enjoy a tasty snack. Many people like them lined up, waiting patiently.
Sophie covered her head with a book to shield herself from the scorching sun, having forgotten her hat at home, she squinted against the light.
“Alright?” asked Grace. “I’ll dash off for some ice cream. That will cool us down a bit.”
“Want me to come with?” Sophie offered.
“Oh no,” Grace refused firmly. “Look at the crowd. They’ll take our spot. You stay here!”
Grace walked away, leaving Sophie bored, standing by the scorching concrete building under the sun. The queue wasn’t moving, so she squinted.
A ringing sound filled her ears, everything felt blurred in her mind. She imagined herself far out at sea. The shore was nowhere in sight. She floated on the water, oddly unsalty. She took a few sips and immediately felt better. Above, a vast, beautiful rainbow stretched across the sky, with the water shimmering like multicolored spectacles through a kaleidoscope. It was breathtakingly beautiful. She felt as light as a feather dancing on the waves, basking in happiness… People walked on the rainbow. Among them, she saw her father, who had passed away a year ago, turning to her with a smile and waving.
Suddenly, voices came from above.
“Here, over here!” they shouted. “Give a hand! Lift her up.”
Some hands gripped and pulled Sophie into a boat. She rested, not wanting to be in the boat, as the voices became clearer, mostly female.
“Who has any smelling salts?” they fretted. “Get more water!”
Sophie regained consciousness and opened her eyes.
“Whew, my friend,” Grace exhaled. “You scared me! I was so frightened!”
Sophie was surprised and disappointed to find herself on the café veranda, not at sea.
“It was sunstroke, dear!” Grace murmured, thanking others for their help. “Oh, I did say, ‘Take your hat, take your hat!’ and you said, ‘Yeah, sure!’ And now look!”
People moved away.
“Grace,” Sophie said thoughtfully. “I saw Dad there. He’s been gone nearly a year, yet he remains young.”
The girls finally entered the café and sat at a table. Sophie continued to ponder over this unexpected encounter with her father.
A week after she bid farewell to her father, she found herself in a morning daze, stumbling through a labyrinth of hallways. She ran somewhere, recalling nothing, aware only of her urgent need for a phone. Desperately so.
She dashed into an unknown room. On the wall hung an ancient phone, worn and battered. She felt a surge of joy. She picked up the receiver and yelled:
“Hello! Hello!”
“All is well, Sophie, what’s wrong?” echoed her father’s voice. “Calm down and tell me. I’ll help however I can.”
In life, her father was not very talkative, and when he wished to inquire about something, he always began with a brief “Okay.” Sophie was pleased to hear his familiar voice with all its usual intonations. She hurriedly recounted everything: about herself, her mother, her cousin, his niece, who had defended her master’s thesis three days after he passed away. He had anticipated that day eagerly, but hadn’t lived to see it.
“Dad, can you imagine,” she laughed. “As promised, she defended it with flying colors!”
Then, she paused, as if awaking from a dream.
“Hello, Dad!” she shouted into the phone. “Dad, you’re not here! How is it possible that you’re speaking with me?”
“Sometimes,” her father said, “when you want something dearly, it happens, my daughter, it happens.”
Even in life, her father hadn’t believed in mysticism; he was a materialist. Strangely, he assured her otherwise now. She awoke, recalling the situation when she and Grace were sitting in the café, her gaze set on the rainbow over the water.
And now… She still cannot shake the feeling that her father is somewhere near her, supporting her every day.
