Ricarda dates the header of a new page in her journal, October 9th 1978.
“Today, I met a man at the market. He was picking through the green chile peppers. I noticed him right away, his black hair danced in the breeze. The peppers he picked had a discoloration on the back that he didn’t see. When I told him he thanked me and I handed him 5 fresh ones. He asked my name and complimented my yellow dress. We walked together, holding hands. His thumb caressed my skin. Heat rose in my chest. We heard music playing from the balcony above us and danced with bags of vegetables still hanging from our arms. We danced until our lungs cried out for rest and we tumbled down onto the sidewalk. I laid my head on his shoulder and we talked until the sun had set and the moon had risen. When he left me at my front door, it was nearly midnight. He pulled the small of my waist into him and kissed me passionately. The stars overhead twinkled and gleamed in applause. He promised to meet me at the market again tomorrow, after art school. He wanted his paintings to be in museums one day. He said he wanted to paint me, too.” That night Ricarda closed her eyes and dreamed of him, his brown eyes. The tattoo that peaked out of his rolled up sleeves. The way his mustache tickled her lip. She dreamed of spending all the days of her life with him, of being his bride.
“Rickie, I’ve made you a cinnamon tea with a honey stick, just how you like, mi amor”
Eriberto walked in and kissed Ricarda good-morning. Her hands trembled when she took the hot tea. She didn’t speak to Eriberto, just scowled and sipped her tea.
‘It’s a beautiful day out today. The summer sun has blessed us with a break from her scorching heat. I have some work to do today, a leak at the studio on Calle Azul needs fixing. But, Carmen will be here tidying up, if you need anything. Ok, mi estrella? Later when I get home we can take a walk if you’d like.” With that he started on his way out of the door but before he could exit the room she said “I’m going to the market today.” He stood with his back to her for a moment, his head hung low. He turned to her with sadness upon his face “ok mi amor.”
Later that evening Ricarda took out her journal and dated it October 8th, 1979
“Today I met a man at the market. He was picking through the peppers. I cannot remember what kind, I was too focused on him. His black hair danced in the breeze. He smelled of mahogany. I think my red dress caught his eye. He complimented it. He asked me to take a walk with him. His arm was draped over me like a warm shawl. His thumb caressed my skin. My heartbeat quickened its pace. I felt my stomach fill and flutter with mariposas. We heard music coming from the street corner, and he danced with me. Swinging me about, until our legs gave out and we had to sit along the sidewalk to catch our breath. He took off his button up and laid it on the concrete to keep my dress clean. His chest hair peaked out over the top of his white undershirt. We talked until the sun had tired and the moon had awoken. He dropped me off at my front door and kissed me softly under the stars. He said he’d meet at the market again tomorrow after work. He was a painter. He said he’d like to paint me too, if I'd let him. I think I will.” That night she went to sleep dreaming of him. She dreamed of them as an old married couple, minding their children's children. She dreamed of them together, as a painting. One you might see in a museum. She dreamed of being with him forever.
Ricarda had slept well. She felt rested, but struggled to get out of the bed. She went to the bathroom, but stood there awkwardly. What did she come in here for? She doesn’t remember. She saw Eriberto ironing some clothes and whistling a tune. The girl was on the phone, pacing back and forth. The cord tangled around her legs, and Ricarda could see the girl's aggravation as she tried to unravel it while talking.
“Buenos dias, mi amor!” Eriberto said gingerly. “You look lovely, Rickie. Glowing like a star. It brings me joy to see your shining face. What shall we do today, hm? Would you like to take a drive and see the mountains, or come with me to the museum?”
“Not today” Carmen said as she placed the phone back on the hook. “The doctor wants to see her this afternoon” she looked at Ricarda. “Me? Why would the doctor want to see me?” her arms folded across her bosom. “Just a check up, me estrella!” Eriberto answered. “Don’t call me that!” Ricarda spat her words with venom in response. “I can not go today. I have plans to be at the market this afternoon!”
“If we go soon enough to your appointment, I will take you to the market when we arrive home” Carmen said. Ricarda nodded her head in agreement. In the late evening, Carmen and Ricarda visited the stands selling spices, fruits and little wooden carvings of Mother Mary. Ricarda filled her wicker basket with plantains, tomatoes and an assortment of peppers. The sun was low in the sky when they arrived home, a gorgeous amber light shone through the windows.
Ricarda pulled out her journal and dated it, October 11th 1975.
“Today I met a man at the market. He was picking out fresh tomatoes. One fell from his sack and rolled to my feet, I picked it up for him and he thanked me. He liked the pattern on my green dress, he told me so. His black hair danced in the breeze, his deep brown eyes were sweet like a honey glazed pecan. We walked together, and it started to drizzle. He wiped the rain from my face with his thumb, the way it caressed my cheek gave me chills on the back of my arm. We heard music coming from inside of a restaurant and he asked me to dance. His hand was around my waist and we twirled in the pouring rain. We sat upon the sidewalk, eating the fresh tomatoes and talking until even the moon seemed tired. When he brought me to my front door, he kissed me. He kissed me like he was saying he loved me. He called me his star. He said I shined. He promised to meet me at the market again tomorrow after he finishes his new painting. He hopes it will be in a museum one day.”
Ricarda closed her eyes and thought of the man at the market until her thoughts turned to dreams that kept her company all through the night. She dreamed of his big smile and thunderous laugh. She dreamed of his thumbs tracing every curve of her skin. She dreamed of them together, without end.. never to be parted.
Ricarda woke to the sound of Eriberto singing and the scent of fresh tortillas. She peeked at him through a crack in her door. His bald head shimmered with sweat, and his gray facial hair made her uneasy. Everything about her life felt out of place. How did she find herself here? With this old man? In this home that wasn’t hers? She thought about the man from the market. She thought she might run away with him. She was certain he would agree to save her from this treacherous and miserable life. She would ask him today. She gently shut the door to the room, and locked it. She began packing a bag as quickly and quietly as her shaking arms allowed. Her breath was shallow. Her nervousness was ever present. She pushed open the closet doors, and flitted through the clothes. None of which were hers. But, she grabbed what she could: a blue sweater, a flowered dress that was almost surely too large for her, a few pairs of pants, and socks. She tried to toss the bag over her shoulder but it was too heavy for her to lift. That’s when she heard a key in the door and the old man's voice seeping through the cracks. She abandoned her packed bag and thought the man from the market would help her to get new things. She turned to the window and pushed it open, but Eribertos arms had wrapped around her before she could leap. ‘Woah, woah mi amor. What are you doing, you could get yourself killed?!” He shouted. Ricarda tried to fight him off. Piercing his skin with her sharp nails and letting out a bleating scream for the whole neighborhood to hear. “Let go of me!! Suéltame Hijo de Puta!!” Ricarda shouted. Carmen raced into the room to be of some help. Eriberto pulled Ricarda away from the window. Carmen patted him on the back, whispering “I've got it from here, dad.” He nodded and stepped back, he was winded from the commotion. Carmen knelt down in front of her. She used her fingers to comb through the ends of Ricarda’s hair. “Don’t be afraid. You are safe here. No one will hurt you. This is your home.” The aroma of burnt flour filled the room, and Ricarda kept shaking her head in refusal. “No. No. You have to help me get out of here. This is not my home. I do not know this man. What does he want with a young girl like me? I have nothing to offer him apart from my body. I will die before I let this old man have his way with me. Please, let me go. I am begging you” her voice caught in her throat. Carmen's eyes flickered with pain. Of all the times that this has happened, she is still not used to it yet. “You do know him. This is Eriberto Tena. He is the man you met at the market many moons ago. He is your husband now.” Ricarda cut her off with a vicious “NO! He is but a stranger to me. I do not know him!” Ricarda rocked back and forth on the bed. Her teeth chattered against each other. Eriberto cried in the corner of the room. He has been a stranger to her for some time now. But, it hurts all the same. He palmed away the tears on his brown cheeks before Ricarda could see them. “Yes you do, mama. He is your husband and I am your daughter, Carmen. You have lived in this home for many many years, mama. You have a sickness that makes you forget. But, I would not lie to you. Come, let us look in the mirror.” She took Ricardas hands in hers, and walked her over to the standing mirror with its shining gold frame. Carmen stood just behind her to the left. “See mama? Your face.. it has wrinkles. Your hair has turned gray. Your hands are like raisins plucked from the sea.” Time has passed, your memory has faded, but you aren’t in any danger. This I can promise you.”
Ricarda looked up at Carmen's soft eyes, brown like the man at the market. And somewhere within her, she knew the words she heard were true. There was an old woman staring back at her from the mirror. And, the girl. She does have his eyes. She started to weep. The confusion ripped her apart and she couldn’t stop the flood of sadness flowing from within her. She laid on the bed and wept into her pillow until she drifted off to sleep. When Ricarda woke, she pulled out her journal and dated it October 7th, 1976.
“I met a man at the market today. He was picking through the plantains, the ones he placed in his sack were spoiled so I picked him some fresh ones. Perfectly ripe. I noticed him straight away, his black hair dancing in the breeze. He said his name was Eriberto.”
By Omnipotent
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