Portofino

Sunny shifted into 4th gear as he gained speed in a red Portofino hauling out of thick city traffic. Behind him, sunset melted the skyline into a hot pink shimmer. The Portofino purred as Sunny slid it into 5th. The streets stretched and began to thin. Soon, the city seemed far behind. A highway carried Sunny through fields and pastures dotted with palm and citrus trees. Every few miles, a cluster of houses would appear, with chicken coops and donkeys in the dirt front yards. The air was a cool pale lilac hue now, the light not quite yet blue.

The Portofino was cruising in 6th gear when a yellow and silver haired creature the size of a labrador ran out in the road in front of it. Sunny slammed the brake pedal instinctively, and the car responded, coming cleanly to a halt.

Sunny peered through the windshield. What was that thing? Where did it go? He looked into the mist that clung onto clusters of yucca and low palm on the roadside. A few fronds rustled. He turned down the radio.

"Perdón?" A voice called out in the faint of light. "Perdón, señor?" It was coming from just behind the Portofino. Sunny looked into the rearview mirror. There was a nun, with dusk golden skin, looking back at him through the mist. She was wrapped in the dark clothing of her faith and making her way up the side of the road.

"Are you alright?" Sunny replied. "Estas bien?"

The nun walked towards the car. Her habit seemed to swim in the humidity, her skin glistened. She paused by the passenger door. "I could use a ride, señor, por favor."

Sunny answered, "I'm heading north for several hours, monja."

The nun nodded. "Si? I am going to the church on the reservation."

Sunny gestured to the passenger door. "Por supuesto. I will be driving by it."

The nun nimbly climbed in the Portofino, tucking her robes so that they didn't get caught in the door.

"Gracias, señor. Dios te bendiga."

Sunny eased on the Portofino gas pedal. "Si, God is good." They took off up the road, warm night settling in.

"Pues...were you out here walking for a while?" Sunny asked.

"No, señor. Not long at all. I was visiting with mi familia when I got a call that I must return to the reservation."

Sunny felt righteously curious. He looked over at the nun and asked, "So your family just...let you set out on foot?"

She looked back at Sunny, her eyes each little torch fires. "My family knows that I am always safe, wherever I go and however I get there." Her intensity when she said this made Sunny sharply turn his attention back to the road. But she wasn't wrathful.

"I have spent many years on the road with God, some of them before I became a nun."

Sunny mused as they continued. The sound system played softly. Layers of electronic sounds drifted around them. A vocalist broke in occasionally, lamenting being abandoned and having no home. Percussive cicadas in the fog sounded off as if in concordance with the music.

La monja unfolded her peaceful hands, sliding one of them into her robe. A moment later, it reappeared with a black bound notebook. She opened this book across her lap. Sunny glanced out the side of his eye to see better. The nun was writing something in it.

"Where I go, God goes. When I open my eyes to the source of life, creation comes to me in the form of hope. Hope is like a shooting star, a light where there was not one before. The presence of hope is a reminder that whatever dark has set upon us, it is not the only truth, and certainly not God's intention for us. When we have hope, wherever we go, there will always be light out there going with us."

She finished penning the thought and then read it out loud to Sunny. He looked over the steering wheel pensively for a while, and then repeated, "When I open my eyes to the source of life...which eyes are you talking about monja? Surely not just the ones in your head, verdad?"

"Verdad, señor. Los ojos de la alma. The eyes of the soul. These are the only eyes that can see in the darkness. Open the eyes of your soul, and God will show you hope, no matter where you are."

Sunny squinted, trying to see the world the way that la monja did.

"Where are the eyes of my soul, monja?"

"The eyes of the soul open, carino, wherever love and life meet."

Sunny felt the Portofino purr under his body as it sailed hours overland through the dark misty countryside. He and his passenger rode in long stretches of silence punctuated by various illuminations of mysterious natures.

Once again, the nun called his attention to the heavens, "Notice no moon tonight, señor. La luna nueva."

Sunny glanced overhead. Where the mist thinned he could see tiny lights. Many faint tiny lights, but no moon. "La luna nueva," he repeated.

Shortly up ahead, the sky was brightening, but not for the sun breaking day. A massive billboard grew out of the side of the road, flickering vain neon light. Seven red feathers glowed wearily next to a large script that read out an advertisement for a casino a few miles north.

"We will be coming up on the reservation soon, senor," said the nun.

"Por supuesto," Sunny replied.

The nun guided the Portofino off of the highway onto gravel, and then a dirt road.

"Aqui señor, careful, there is a bump - yes, good, ahh, I see they left a light on for me." Crawling carefully up the driveway, Sunny saw an electric torch burning on the front porch of a double wide trailer parked alongside a large steepled building. He gestured to the worn wooden porch steps, "Here?"

"Si señor, gracias."

Sunny gently shifted the Portofino into park. He glanced over at his passenger, who was putting away her journal and arranging her robes.

"Monja, before you go... " he reached across the center console for the glove compartment by la monja's knees and picked out a nondescript envelope. "...for you, to use as you see worthy."

Sunny held the envelope, almost two inches thick, in the space above the nun's lap, her peaceful hands unmoving.

"Señor, if I accept this, I want you to know that it will be a gift for God, and therefore I will use it accordingly.

"Si monja, entiendo. That is why I want you to take it."

The nun looked into Sunny's eyes, and he looked back solemnly. Then she broke into a smile, warmth illuminating her face. Shining, she gently grasped the envelope from Sunny's hand. His hand closed around hers for a moment, he smiled, and then let go.

"Goodbye monja,"

"Adios carino. Dios te bendiga."

"Si, God is good," he replied, and watched as the nun exited the Portofino. Sunny could see the black bound notebook and the white envelope nestled in the crook of her arm as she walked up the faded porch steps in the electric light. She unlocked the front door of the double wide trailer and then turned back to Sunny and waved. He raised his hand to her and then carefully peeled out of the dirt drive, back out into the highway night.

Down the road, Sunny's hand's gripped the wheel of his Portofino lightly. Above, in the infinite darkness, a million lights shone on him as he moved through a world both tangible and impossible to touch. One of them fell closer to earth.