Susanna Avila

The Love of Sam and Susanna

“This is an essay Sam wrote after Susanna died. I asked him if I could keep it as a reminder of the two of them. He asked me not to share it, but he would have wanted you to read it.  This is how they were, the way they acted with each other. Sam didn’t glamorize their relationship; he described it perfectly. I’ll read it to you.”

Frank smoothed the sheets of paper, adjusted the pillows behind his back, and read aloud:

“Susanna plucked a shrimp from the paper cone clutched in my hand and held it over my head like a seal trainer. She laughed as…

…I leaned back and opened my mouth. I struggled not to laugh as I wagged my tongue at her. She brought the shrimp to my mouth and I captured her long, graceful fingers between my lips. She hesitated and gazed at me and her laugh turned into a smile. Oh, my heart beat fast and I marveled at this beautiful Spanish woman and sucked her fingers into my mouth and my tongue savored the flavor of two-thousand years of Spain. A seagull circled overhead crying with anger at the meal it had missed.

We bought the quarter-pound of fresh shrimp from the fish market on the plaza and then walked under an umbrella along the cobble-stoned waterfront of old Puerto de Santa Maria. The rain stopped after a while and we sat on the quay overlooking the ancient harbor where Christopher Columbus provisioned ships for his voyage of discovery. The sun came out again and steam rose from the puddles of water dotting the quay. I lay back with my knees bent on the old wall of crushed shells as Susanna leaned over me, shielding my eyes from the bright sun. She smelled of orange blossoms. Susanna always smelled of orange blossoms. I breathed deep in the fragrant hollow behind her ear before the musty odor of decaying sea wrack intruded, and the salty fragrance of the vast great ocean, the granite-like permanence of the old city, the brilliance of the deep blue dome of sky overhead, the whole of the world spread before us.

Susanna. Our life together lay ahead. I reveled in the beauty of her green eyes as she slowly slipped her fingers from my lips. Her long, silky black hair framed her snow-white face and fell onto my chest. I sat up then and we sat cheek to cheek, wordless, the closeness of her tiny, frail body a comfort. I tightened my arm around her slender waist. My pulse throbbed as love for this beautiful woman raced through my veins.

“Come, Susanna. Give me your hand.” I helped Susanna down and we walked on the beach. The wind tore at the frothy crests of the waves and I tasted sea salt on my lips. I took my shirt off and carried it in my hand, and the sea spray stuck to my skin in the humidity. I paused while Susanna took her shoes off and dug her toes into the fine, warm sand. I held Susanna’s sandals as she dipped her toes in the waters of the bay.

“Oh, Samuel,” she cried with a laugh. “Dance with me, my love.” Susanna held my fingers in hers and danced around me on the beach between the sea wall and the sea in front of a dozen other lovers walking along the shore. I dipped my head as I shook it, and smiled. Oh, she was so lovely in her gaiety. Her wrap billowed from her body in the wind and her black hair whipped about her white face and her face glowed with joy as she twirled and danced about me. I held her hand high and she dipped beneath my arm and spun around and around and around, laughing all the while. I spun Susanna into my arms and I held her close as we danced together in the white sand of the beach beneath the bright yellow sun of a Spanish autumn afternoon.

“I want to live forever, Samuel!” She was so happy.

I kissed her cheek and let go of her hand and ran away up the beach. She laughed aloud as she ran for me but I eluded her. Then I stopped and turned and flung the remaining shrimp as high into the sky as I could and a cloud of seagulls converged above Susanna. She raced for me under the cloud of crying sea birds, her face bright and her lovely laugh ringing in the salty air as waves crashed upon the beach and sea gulls dipped and flew around her as they darted for the remaining morsels. I caught Susanna as she leaped into my arms and we fell into the sand. We laughed as we fell and we fell silent as our eyes fastened upon one another and we breathed hard in our excitement and Susanna pressed her hands into my chest and her lips onto mine. Oh, the lovely softness of the flesh of Susanna’s lips. I feel them now and I feel her feather-soft flesh pressing upon mine as though time has not intervened between reality and memory.

Time passes, and grinds mountains into rubble and erases history into dimly recalled, tentative tales and fables, but it cannot erase the memory of the love a man and a woman feel but once, the love of a lifetime, the love of the ages. The love for which the heart burgeons into a breathless burst of yearning and passion and tenderness and fulfillment. A wished-for love for others; a true love for Susanna and me.

As we lay together in the sand, the fine, warm sand, Susanna’s body pressing into mine, I held her in my arms and her life beat in her chest, and her life beat in my chest, and I knew how wonderful she was, and how fortunate I was, and I knew, too that I loved this woman, so passionate, so tender, so fulfilled, and I wanted this moment in the fine, warm sand beneath the bright yellow sun of a Spanish autumn afternoon to last forever. I was so happy.

39 thoughts on “The Love of Sam and Susanna”

    1. Tom Nelson is the protagonist in my novel. He lost the love of his life, Susanna, while he was stationed in Spain. He’s stationed now in the Philippines and falls in love with Aida, though he still grieves for Susanna. However, he’s not sure loving Aida is right, he feels like he’s betraying Susanna. On top of that, he has his parents’ fairy tale love that burdens him like a millstone about the neck. His parents, Sam and Susanna McBride, met and married in Spain. Both Susannas were bartenders and died young, Tom’s mother just after giving birth to him, and his Susanna, from pneumonia in the hospital. The two couples’ stories are told in alternating timelines. None of my beta readers have said they were confused by this.The medallion mentioned in Sam’s death scene is said to be cursed, that whoever wears it dies young.

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      1. Love it! I better go order it so it can start making its way here. Plllleeeeaaasse tell me there’s a hard-copy option! (I haven’t left your Susanna folder yet to look…)

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      6. My door stop is a collection of personal essays published in the anthology Four Feet Down. I was one of four writers in the volume. I cringe at some of the writing. I have a few paperback copies. I’ll send you one if you’d like. It’s available on Amazon too. I think it’s free with the purchase of 2 or more fly swatters Haha O_O

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      9. They were my earliest writing. I was only then learning what passive writing was, staging, etc. I was woefully inexperienced. On the good side, most are stories of growing up over seas and in Tampa.

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      15. That’s all it takes… that explains where the A Wished-For Love chapter is. Oh, boy, there’s a whole other world in here… I never actually clicked the categories widget; I assumed I was accessing everything from the horizontal bar at the top. You should add them up there. You’re lucky all my muses are currently on vacation and I’m procrastinating grading…

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      17. If I do, it would be for all the social media clips my students have taken that went viral, lol. I LOVE all my bosses. Like seriously. But I have a love disorder because I love everyone and every day. (It’s only at home I’ve always been unhappy, but not anymore.)

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      31. Maybe I should make them Categories again. But then, when you open the Category, the word Category: shows up like this “Category: Poems.” Ugh I hate that!

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      33. Yes, I went back to Categories and added more (Duh, you can see that). Can I get rid of the Categories tag inside the page?
        I’ll work on the drop-down menu!

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      35. No. Only A Wished-For Love (my story about Tom in the Philippines) is posted in its entirety. Many of the Susanna poems you’ve read are inserted into Tom’s novel. My Susanna novel, Dancing With Orange Blossoms is still in early draft form.

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      37. Well, I listened before and got it right originally. You published the Navy story already and this one is almost done. It’s all coming back to me now.

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