Hurricane Summer

When they ask how I weathered the storm, I will tell them I did not. I was uprooted like the palm trees and shot down like the birds from the stormy skies. I was ravished like the zinc houses and devoured like the soil as it swallowed itself whole. I was ruined. I was disaster. I was dancing in the eye of God’s will. “Thank you,” I whisper as we ascend into the sky. How beautiful it was to be destroyed.

I have wanted my father’s love for too long. But now, I am weary. Now, I am done. It’s a strange pursuit— chasing the love of your father. When the first man who was supposed to want you, doesn’t. You eventually stop running. You eventually grow tired.

It’s a strange pursuit—chasing the love of your father. When the first man who was supposed to want you, doesn’t. You eventually stop running.

And we are his problem. I will never be enough for my father, and now there is a hole in my heart the size of him that I cannot fill up. It only grows bigger and bigger. Swallowing me whole. Ripping me apart.

I needed you to know … your skin is dark because it was kissed by God himself.

..Oblivious to the pain that aches in my chest. The blood that spills out of me and onto the floor. But I know now that there will always be a hole in my heart the size of my father. And that is okay. In time, I will learn to fill it with my own magic. My own resilience. My own love. Just like what Andre did.

I am not ready to forgive him for that, and If I do before it's time, I will be sacrificing myself just to feel his love grace my skin. And that is not the love I want. That is not the love I deserve.

He is the storm that brews in the depths of my soul.

He is the poison and the remedy for my wounds.

I think back in disgust at how they cried for him. They are sadder for his death than for the quality of his life.

We are soaked in rain. In pleasure. In bliss. I am raw and exposed as his fingers explore my skin, moving up my stomach as they brush against my breasts. I tingle with excitement. All at once, he takes them into his hands. I nearly explode.

I am silently begging for their approval. Like I was excited to feel wanted. Like I needed their company the way I needed my father’s.

This time, I revel in the beauty of my own sorrow and the weight of my own broken heart. It has been cracked by my Father, violated by Jahvan, broken by Hessan, and shattered by the death of Andre. But it is time to put the pieces back together. It is time to put the pieces back together.

The Tilla who accepted broken love in whatever form it came. The Tilla who put other people before the call of her own heart.

My father is still searching for his happiness. I can't fill that void for him, just like he can't fill mine. It is neither of our responsibilities. And now, I must release him from the task. He is not my hero. And in this moment I feel guilty for putting that pressure on his shoulders. What a heavy weight to carry for a person who is just as broken as I am. What a burden to bear for an empty man. My father is human, flawed and imperfect, and the inevitable truth about the chaos that rages inside of me is that he cannot clean it up. Only I can do that. So my fantasy of my father must reach its final chapter . My fairy tale of him must come to an end. Sometimes little girls must become their own heroes.

And just like that, it all clicks. I am screaming out to finally hear my own voice. My summer. My time here. My broken heart that shattered like the storm to which I am bearing witness. My heart is being forced, just like this island, to change. And in this moment of melancholy and excitement, I finally understand exactly what Andre meant. There is beauty in destruction.

When they ask me how I weathered the storm, I will tell them I did not. I was ravished like the zinc houses and devoured like the soil as it swallowed itself whole. I was ruined. I was disaster. I was dancing in the eye of God’s will. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper as we ascend into the sky. How beautiful it was to be destroyed.

How beautiful it was to be destroyed.

I see that I’m a little piece in a big, big universe. And that makes things right.

I’m giving it back to you. Your secret. It’s your choice what you do with it, but I won’t keep it for you. Not anymore.” He stares at me, his gray eyes turning to stone. Disappointment covers his face.

It is too great a burden to bear. And it is not mine to carry.” “Tilla—

hate me for this, but I am willing to live with that possibility.” I feel myself grow brave. “I am not keeping your secret.

Tilla. What are you talking—” “I’m not doing it, Dad. Either you tell Mom or I will. I know … I know that you might

I’m not keeping your secret. Not anymore.” His face drops, confusion taking over.

in my heart the size of my father. And that is okay. In time, I will learn to fill it with my own magic.

His hug is brief, and he lets me go, taking my heart with him as he pulls away. He smiles widely at Mia and me, oblivious to the pain that aches in my chest. The blood that spills out of me and onto the floor. But I know now that there will always be a hole

In the arms of my father, I am the center of heartbreak and joy.

I have no tears left. This time, I revel in the beauty of my own sorrow and the weight of my own broken heart. It has been cracked by my father, violated by Jahvan, broken by Hessan, and shattered by the death of Andre.

We are both searching for ourselves in empty places.