Saturday, March 20, 2010

Cry, Mercy (fiction-part 3)

Miguel's kiss had made Theresa dizzy.  She had no idea how to feel.  Her heart raced with excitment.  Miguel Garcia loved her!  Did she love him?

She dressed for sleep in a white cotton gown.  Climbing into bed she could think of nothing but the intensity of his green eyes as he held her on the dance floor.  She had felt safe in his muscular arms.  The kiss still lingered on her lips.  She slumbered with a slight smile.  Miguel Garcia loved her.

As she slept she dreamed.  She dreamed of yards of white fabric and flowers.  She dreamed her loved ones wished her well.  She dreamed of a little white church filled with people.  In her wedding gown she stood ready to make her vows to the man who claimed his undying devotion.  But he never appeared.  She waited and waited as guests and family members gave up hope.

"He will be here!" she cried. "He promised!  He promised!"

Suddenly, her dream took her to a huge field of green.  Still in her long white dress, she stood alone.

Theresa awoke with a start to find she had been crying.  She remained sleepless for the remainder of the night.

The cock crowed.

Her mother stuck her head in the doorway. "Get up, Theresa.  Your father will be ready for his breakfast!"

She felt exhausted and disoriented.  She dressed quickly and began making coffee and tortillas for her father.

"Theresita!" her father exclaimed as he slammed the broken screen door behind him with an armload of mequite firewood.  "I have heard the news!  My daughter is to be married!"  He laughed and kissed her cheek.  "Felicidades, mi'ja!"

"Gracias, Papa," she said forcing a smile.

Her mother gasped.  "Why did you not tell me? I should be the first to know!"

Neither of them noticed Theresa's lack of enthusiasm. 

"Miguel Garcia is a good boy.  He works hard.  He will take good care of you.  I am very proud!"

He took off his work hat and set it on the table.  She served him a plate of eggs, refried beans and fresh tortillas.  He sipped his coffee thoughfully.

"Oh Theresa!  Miguel Garcia is so tall and handsome!  You will have beautiful children.  Did he say when he would marry you?  I must prepare everything.  It will be perfect!" said her mother.

Elena Rodriguez had always dreamed of a day when she would be the mother of the bride.  She had become pregnant with Theresa when she was sixteen and had eloped.  Sometimes when theresa was a baby Elena would imagine the wedding she never had.  In her mind there were flowers and bridesmaids. Her father walked her down the isle of a little old church.  Her husband was smiling in a beautiful  suit and brand new boots.

Elena imagined her father so proud he slaughtered a cow for the enormous celebration.  Mariachis played and she danced in her beautiful, white dress until dawn.  She often preferred the daydreams of her imagination to the reality she faced daily as a mother of seven.

Now her Theresita would be wed!  She wanted her daughter to enjoy all the pleasures she had not.

Theresa felt confused and overwhelmed.   "I am going to go visit Abuelita and tell her the news," she said.  "I will be home to help with lunch."

Her grandmother lived across the wash.  Sometimes the water was so wild and high she could not visit her for weeks.  She was pleased the water only reached her ankles.  She desperately needed her Abuela today.

She arrived at her grandmother's house and let herself in.  She was surprised not to find the old woman cooking in front of her cast iron stove.  She rarely moved from that spot during the day.  Her grandmother was 92 years old and never stopped working.  The beauty of her youth was still obvious in her bright eyes, high cheek bones and the thick silver braid that hung down her back.

"Abuelita?" she called.  "Are you here?"

"Si, paloma, I'm laying down in the back room," was her response.

"Do you feel bad?  Can I get you something?" asked Theresita.

"No.  Come sit with me."

Theresa sat on the edge of her grandmother's bed.  "I'm getting married."

"I know."

Theresa just nodded.  Her grandmother always knew the important things that took place in her family without being told.  She had the gift of dreams.  Theresa knew she need not elaborate.  Instead she lay her head on her grandmother's chest and cried.

"I am so confused!  I dreamed I was alone, Abuelita.  I was so happy and then I was suddenly alone and miserable.  I don't want to be alone!"  she sobbed.

"Do you love this young man?" she asked stroking Theresa's hair.

Her heart ached at the question and she could not deny the truth.  "Yes. I love him.  I barely know this boy and I love him with my soul.  When  I looked into his eyes I felt he would be the father of my children.  Was I mistaken?"

"You were not mistaken, mi vida.  The angels have whispered to you your destiny.  You will Love this man for eternity.  You will bare his children.  This Love is far too powerful to escape.  It is always important to remember Love is not an action but a power.  Love is an energy that can span mountains, oceans and time.  Love is not a game.  Those who trifle with Love will always suffer.  Be careful of Love."  The old woman coughed violently into a handkechief.  Blood.

"Abuelita!  I'm getting my mother!  You are very sick!" said Theresa.

"Wait, child.  Listen to me.  I will always be watching you. I will always help you.  You will never be alone.  Be happy.  Respect yourself.  Demand that others respect you.  Enjoy life.  Enjoy Love while you have it.  Remember Love can be painful, but one cannot live without it.  Every moment is precious."  She was taken again by a coughing fit resulting in more blood.

Theresa ran for her mother.

Lupita Rodriguez Montoya surrendered her spirit as she heard her granddaughter slam the door behind her.  Her work on this earth was done.

Miguel and Theresa were married in a humble old church.  Her dress was simple.  White to symbolize her virginal purity.

Elena saw that her daughter had the wedding she herself had always wanted.  Flowers.  Music.  Food.

When the festivities were over Miguel took his new bride to the two room adobe home he had built with his brothers.  It had a tin roof and dirt floors, but it was his.  With his own hands he had provided for his woman.

When they entered the house he lit an oil lamp and and led her quietly to the bed.  She blushed as she noticed it was the only piece of furniture in the house, except for an old stove.  She understood his priorities and complied.

As he explored his wife for the very first time Miguel thought no man had ever loved as deeply or as fully as he did.  She was soft and smooth and receptive to his touch.  He was hungry for this woman.  Starving.  He felt his hunger would never be satiated.  He knew that heaven on earth was found in the arms of this goddess.  At that moment he commited to make her happy until his dying day.

"Te amo, Theresa.  Te amo con toda mi alma," he whispered in her ear.

She looked up at him and smiled.  "I too love you with my whole soul, Miguel."  His heart beat hard in his chest.  There was no woman more beautiful than she in the world.  Nothing else existed.

She relished the roughness of his hands.  She thrilled at the warmth of his breath. The pleasure she experienced was unlike any she could have imagined.  She was thirsty for this man.  She felt her thirst would never be quenched.  Please don't ever stop touching me, she thought silently.  Please don't ever stop loving me. 

They experienced one another until daylight.  And then they slept.

The next few months were bliss complete.  They made one another laugh.  They made love at all hours of the day or night.  They took care of each other.  Miguel proudly provided flour for tortillas and Theresa proudly made them.