In April 2016, I took a trip to Isla La Tortuga, in Venezuela, with a friend, María. The trip was long because the tide was high. By the end of the five-hour sail, my skin was red from a sunburn. However, the spectacular landscape of the island was worth it. The sea had clear azure colors, the turtles were sleeping in the sun, and tons of bright fish were swimming in the water. The promoters met us on the shore and gave us the schedule of activities. There would be a dress-in-all-white party, a trip to the Tortuguillos and Herradura keys, and kayaking.

The next day, I was hiding in the shade of a juniper, my face and body swollen from the burn. María was keeping me company. I noticed a young man who was sitting on the sand alone. It caught my attention that he was alone because that was how I felt. Five years before that, I had a boyfriend who tragically died in a car accident. The image of his lifeless body in the hospital still haunted me. That’s why I had not been in any relationship for a long time. 

Suddenly, the young man got up and came to us. He said, “Hello, my name is José Manuel.” I replied that it was nice to meet him. María smiled, and we had a conversation about the island with José Manuel, who knew Tortuga and the other islands around very well because he was a commandant there. María left to talk with other people, so José Manuel sat down near me, and we talked about swimming, places we had both traveled, our studies, and our families. I felt a connection that I hadn’t felt in a long time, like one island seeing another.

Our dress-in-all-white party began at sunset. There was a lot of delicious food; we had a special dinner of pasta marinara with cocktails. I met people from other cities in the country and we danced, talked, and laughed. I was surprised that my eyes were looking for José Manuel and my heart jumped a little in my chest when I saw him. José Manuel came up to me again and asked if I wanted to go stargazing. “I know a special place,” he said. “I go there when I need to be by myself.” He looked a little nervous. I agreed to go but said that I needed to ask María.

I went to María and shared with her that José Manuel invited me to go stargazing. She told me not to worry about her, so José Manuel and I went to another part of the beach and sat on the sand. It felt like a special moment for me. I was listening to the waves of the sea; I saw the stars and the moon. José Manuel told me that I was very beautiful and gave me a kiss. The electric wave I felt made me forget about the pain of my scalded skin. 

The following day—our last day—José Manuel approached me as María and I were boarding the ship to return to the capital. He asked if I would give him my phone number. We exchanged numbers and said goodbye. José Manuel texted me later that day to find out how I was doing and how the return trip was. We started texting. Then we started dating. In a few months, I immigrated to Chile and José Manuel to Spain. He had my email, but I decided not to give him my new number, and the old number didn’t work. I decided to end the 

relationship. How could it have worked with me in Chile and him in Spain? José Manuel kept writing to me and asking me for my phone number. I never wrote back. 

One day, I came home from work and saw a bunch of red roses near my door. A little card attached to them explained they were from José Manuel. In a few days, there was another bouquet of roses waiting for me. This time, I decided to write an email back to him to thank him. As I was writing to him, I suddenly felt such a relief, as if I had been twisted all this time and suddenly, the twist unraveled. We kept talking in the emails. Now, we keep talking in our kitchen, on another island.