The following day, I went to the marketplace, but Basil wasn’t around. I asked the vendors about him. “Haven’t seen him today,” one said. “Sorry, no Basil. Maybe tomorrow,” someone else said. I went back the next day and the next. Days turned to weeks. But Basil never showed up. I even wandered through the shanty town, but everyone I spoke to just lifted up their hands or shook their heads and went back to hanging wet clothes or fetching water from the sea. I walked away with my legs feeling heavy with sadness.
When I reached my workplace, Jim was in my classroom.
“Did you find Basil?” he asked.
“No,” I said, my voice filled with disappointment.
“I’m sure he’s all right. I thought I spotted him today out on the boardwalk selling corn with one of the vendors.”
“When?” I asked.
“Maybe an hour ago.”
I gathered my bag, but then Jim gently grabbed my wrist and said, “A class has to be taught, Kat.”
His deep voice was calm and I smiled realizing he was right. The work had to be done. It was another normal day.
After class, I raced over to the boardwalk. It was shortly after three when I spotted the corn vendor. I approached him and asked, “Does Basil work with you?”
A grunt came through the man’s bushy mustache, “Who?”
“Basil,” I repeated, standing closer to him and eyeing the corn on the cob. My stomach growled and I bought one from him. It was warm in my hands.
“Butter?”
“No thanks. Do you know Basil?” I asked.
“Sorry,” he spoke more gently now. “No basil, only butter and salt.”
“Basil, not the spice,” I whispered.
“You want a pinch of salt?”
He held out a salt shaker and I let him sprinkle some on the corn. I stepped back and walked to an empty bench directly across from the sea. I looked at the horizon as I took quick bites. Maybe Jim was mistaken or maybe he was just trying to cheer me up. I longed to see Basil here selling corn, candy or nuts. Time passed. The sunset started fading behind the mountains. I glanced down at my watch and realized it was well past five. Just then, Jim sat next to me.
“I can’t find Basil. He’s gone missing like Pierre. You know my parents searched for him for months, years. Then they just stopped. They woke up every day, went to work, cooked meals, and took care of me. They went on with life. They even stopped talking about him.”
“Everyone deals with grief differently, Kat. Sometimes we have to stop holding on to keep going…” he paused and cleared his throat. “Sometimes we have to accept that someone is gone.”
I looked at him with surprise. “But you told me that you saw Basil here.”
“It could have been him or it could have been another boy. I’m sorry.”
“I should have helped him.”
“You did help him. You taught him to read. You gave him the gift of words. Maybe his parents took him somewhere better or maybe he’s still in Beirut but working elsewhere. That’s a possibility.”
I said nothing.
“I know how much you loved teaching him. Maybe you can find another child to help.”
“But they’re not him. Basil, not the spice.” I tried to smile at Basil’s joke.
“I know.” Jim squeezed my arm then got up from the bench. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school, right?”
“Yes,” I said with uncertainty.
I waved goodbye to Jim. Rain started to fall, whipping the calm blue Mediterranean. I ran along the boardwalk, my eyes darting around. A little boy stood across the wide street. I thought it was Basil. I tried to cross the road but a rush of cars blocked my way. When they passed, the boy was gone. Big drops of rain splashed on me. I stumbled blindly down the rain-lashed streets.
