You can never outrun fate. Try as one might, it is always there, waiting, like the inescapable Death. Individuals are born into their predetermined life; in a sense, the life chooses you. Towns run on the constant, they thrive on what’s known and expected. The outliers are different, they cause a ripple in the calm water, and they change the town, for better or worse.
Thus, Kino, after throwing the Pearl back into the sea, returned back to his village and saw nothing. His boat, his house, his child, they were all gone. Though Kino and Juana’s stoic expressions resembled one another’s, their innermost thoughts could not have been more apart. Kino was full of self pity, his straight face was a mask for his inner tears. The woman standing next to him was completely shattered, not just for the loss of her son, but the loss of her husband. While one painted the loss on fate, the other knew that this was a result of all their choices, all the times the rash decisions could not be stopped.
The Music of the Pearl was gone, the hope that lifted their spirits as they discovered it, and the evil that shadowed as they realized the harm it was causing. But the Music of Evil was something that remained, though faint and barely audible, Juana could not let go of the foreboding music that lingered in her mind.
“Where should we go?” asked Kino. This journey, if anything, had brought him a newfound respect for his wife. “Juan Tomas?”
Juana nodded solemnly, still holding her shawl with Coyotito. She had aged ten years in the past week, and deep lines were etched into her face.
Kino nodded, as they started moving again, through the barren landscape and ramshackle homes. Words had always been scarce between the two, they always had an understanding. But now, there were no words to be spoken.
Juan Tomas was on the other side of the small village. The silent walk, side by side, did not go unnoticed by their neighbors, yet like race horses, Kino and Juana’s eyes never strayed past the step in the front of them. The ground was hard and rocky, and their hardened feet could feel the little bumps and cracks in the cement.
The stares and secret glances and whispers frightened Juan Tomas and he did not know what to do. Kino knocked on the door of his house several times before it reluctantly opened with a creak.
“What?” Juan Tomas hissed, clearly uncomfortable with the amount of onlookers.
Kino’s face conveyed it all and Juan Tomas’s face softened.
“Come in quickly,” he whispered anxiously. He shut the door behind them and motioned to the table as they all sat down.
“I have nothing left, brother,” Kino said solemnly.
Juan Tomas looked at him for several seconds before shaking his head in pity. “Everyone thinks you have killed your son. They do not know how you got this rifle. I do not know. You must tell everyone you are innocent, tell the story, dear brother, and then I will help.”
Kino’s stony face crumbled. “Please?” Only once, nothing more, yet the remnants of his pleading cry bounced off the shabby walls and remained in the ears of all in the room.
“We should go,” Juana said quietly.
Juan Tomas nodded. “I’m sorry”.
Kino and Juana slept by the shore that night, near the place Kino’s boat used to stay. Their aged reflections stared back at them, the dark, icy water lay a constant reminder of what they had been through. Kino fell asleep instantly, exhausted from the day’s events. Juana lay awake for hours, listening to the beat of the waves after night had fallen, thinking of her darling child, lost because of her reckless partner.
Her partner. No longer were there hopes of a marriage. No longer did she even want one. Juana knew the baggage that came with a man; the passion, the determination, yes, but also came the blindness that stopped him from thinking through decisions that ought to have been thought out carefully. Regardless of what she knew, Juana couldn’t help but feel disappointed, like she somehow expected more. Juana thought again of her darling Coyotito, and fell asleep with a tear on her cheek.
Dawn rose, awakening Juana with the bright colors that painted the sky. She saw Kino still sleeping and rolled over, staring at the soft sand, the still blue water, and the pink sky. A new day meant a new start, and they could only work their way up from the bottom.
His eyes opened, and for the first time in a very long time, he could see clearly. Kino understood the depth of his anger and the problems that arose when his temper got out of control.
He went to eat, sitting close to Juana. He smiled at her shyly, and when Juana looked up and met his eye, her smile slowly grew until it reached her sparkling eyes.
They ate in a comfortable silence, each taking turns thinking and not thinking. The sun hit the center of the sky and slowly started moving west before Kino and Juana rose from their makeshift bench of fallen tree branches.
“Where are we going?” asked Juana.
“Wherever our feet take us.”
Kino and Juana, side by side, went back into the village. The quick side glances, the whispers, and the general hush of the crowd as they walked by, really hit deep within Kino. His friends all turned the other direction when he made eye contact, smiles instantly dying on their faces, their laughter stopping mid-way and turning into fear.
Fear of the unknown, the rifle, the missing baby. Their faces said it all, and Kino, having grown up with these people all his life, heard it loud and clear. Following Juana’s lead, he did not stray from his path, created for him by the ocean of people that parted instantaneously.
They had no real destination, they both just wanted some type of acknowledgment from friends or family; something to prove that their entire lives, their relationships, They meant something. Yet no one spoke up, and Kino and Juana found themselves surrounded by a crowd of people, yet feeling all alone.
The feeling was something Juana had never experienced before. It was the worst feeling, second only to carrying her wrapped up, blood-stained cloth back into her village. The isolation made her feel as though she was watching herself from above, seeing her life play out like a story, but still feeling the pain and anguish and grief that came with being human.
Kino looked at Juana. “This is terrible. Let us tell the village our story, and then they will forgive us. If even Juan Tomas thinks we are murderers, what must the rest of our friends think?”
“No!” Juana was hurt by the reactions, but still thought rationally. “We cannot tell the our friends the truth, Kino, trust me. They will only hate us more.”
“More than thinking I killed my baby?”
Juana took a deep breath and sighed. “Yes. By knowing you hurt him.”
Kino’s sadness turned to rage. How dare she call him a killer? He knew he was responsible for Coyotito’s death, yet hearing her say it out loud made it seem true, like he truly hurt his family instead of just having a bad dream.
Yet his rage did not let him comprehend these thoughts, and the audible gasp as Kino grabbed his rifle did nothing to hinder his behavior. Juana took a step back, she did not know how to handle this Kino.
“I’m not going to shoot you,” Kino smirked.
Juana did not recognize this side of Kino, this side that was doing harm for no reason whatsoever. She knew the dangerous Kino, the unrelentless, determined man, the one that would do anything to achieve his dreams. Yet this man’s dreams had suddenly turned from making a family and helping his loved ones, to ashes. Nothing but fitting into a community that would never accept him again.
Juana tried to reason with him, if nothing but to reassure herself that she had done her best. “Kino,” she asked, on the verge of begging, “please think through this. Do not hurt me.”
“I won’t,” Kino’s jaw clenched.
“Please do not do anything rash. Think it through.”
“This it is what is best for us. Listen to me.”
“We will get hurt. I will get hurt.”
His eyes glazed over with fury as he turned his rifle over and jutted it forward, hitting its mark with a loud thud. Juana crumpled, hands to her head as the dark body that loomed over her scampered off.
Kino walked quickly to the middle of the village, attracting the anticipated reaction. He was upset that he hurt Juana, but in his mind it was the only option. “I will explain my absence.” His voice was raised, yet he was not yelling, a hush fell over the crowd as everyone leaned in to hear his words.
He led the crowd to the stage in the center of the village. The women gathered their baskets and children and held them close as they walked. The stairs that led up to the stage stood eerily in place as Kino slowly climbed up.
The story fled by quicker than anticipated, the gasps and stares, cries and whimpers, the audience lay forgotten by the oblivious Kino, so wrapped up in the nightmarish memories of the trip. He concluded his story, and only then did he look up to see the faces staring at him. Their eyes were round like before, once with childlike wonder, but now in fright.
And Kino, alas realizing his mistake, was ushered by the crowd to the other side of the village, not the sparkling shore that Kino had spent so much time with, but the land, covered in worn down trails and trees and wild-life.
He thought he could feel Juana’s eyes on his back. Ready or not, Kino was about to start over. Alone.
--
I wrote this after I read The Pearl in my English class. We could choose from a variety of projects, and I chose to write an additional chapter to the book. I chose this because Steinbeck's writing style is very different from what I normally read and I thought that trying to mimic it would be a fun challenge. My favorite part about writing this was the vagueness, I loved writing something that you have to read between the lines to fully understand. I realized that though I don't like to read this style of writing, it's so much fun to write.
