32. Serafina
CHAPTER 32
Serafina
T he sun hangs low in the Mexican sky, casting long shadows across the dirt road. I lean against the porch railing of the little burner house, a glass of mezcal in my hand. Paz insisted I take it. To relax, she said. But there's no relaxing. Not when every fiber of my being aches for him.
One month. Thirty-one days since I last saw him. The ghost of his touch lingers on my skin. I've replayed our last moments together a thousand times. His promise to run away with me.
Lies. All of it. Pretty little lies.
A cool breeze ruffles my hair. Goosebumps prickle my skin. Still, I don't go inside. I can't stand the suffocating silence. The emptiness. It mocks me. Reminds me that I'm alone in this godforsaken pueblo in the middle of nowhere Mexico.
Tears burn my eyes. I take a gulp of mezcal, welcoming the bitter sting as it slides down my throat. Paz shuffles onto the porch, a ratty shawl draped over her shoulders.
"Ni?a, ven adentro. It's getting cold out here." She urges me to come inside.
Shaking my head, I say brokenly, "No puedo. I can't. Necesito...I need..." My eyes start to water. I've picked up a little Spanish from Lucas, but lately, I've been putting in more effort to become fluent. After all, this place could be my home for who knows how long, so why not embrace the culture and make it feel like home?
Understanding fills Paz's dark eyes. She squeezes my arm. "Un momento." A moment.
She disappears inside, returning a minute later with a small tin of matches and a pile of old newspapers. "Here." She thrusts them into my arms. "Para la chimenea. You need a fire to keep you warm."
I stare at the crumpled newspapers, then at Paz, pointing at the small outdoor chimney to my side.
"Gracias," I whisper.
I walk up to the small fireplace. Shadows dance across the walls of the house's exterior as I strike a match. Flames swallow the newspaper, devouring today's news in the print.
That's when it really hits me.
He never intended on coming with me.
I feed the burner phone to the fire, our last connection. It crackles and pops as it melts, like my heart.
Paz shuffles up beside me, holding out the mezcal bottle. I take it with a grateful nod and drink deeply. The alcohol burns almost as much as the grief. Tears spill down my cheeks.
"He promised..." The words catch in my throat. "He promised he'd start a new life with me."
"Oh, ni?a." Paz pulls me into her arms. "Los hombres son tontos. Men are dumb. They make promises they can't keep."
I cry into her shawl, my shoulders shaking with sobs. Paz strokes my hair and murmurs soothing Spanish.
"Shh, ni?a. Está bien. You're going to be fine. I promise you."
The following day, I wake to birdsong and sunlight streaming through the curtains. For a moment, I forget where I am. Then it all comes rushing back. The ache in my chest throbs anew.
I can't spend another day wallowing in heartbreak. I need something to keep my hands and mind busy. An idea sparks. I throw on some clothes and go in search of Paz.
I find her busy tending to herbs in the small garden behind the house. She looks up as I approach, a knowing glint in her dark eyes.
"Buenos días, Serafina. ?Cómo estás?" How are you?
"Paz, I need your help." I kneel beside her in the rich soil. "I want to start a garden. With exotic plants and flowers. Pero ... but I don't know where to begin."
A slow smile spreads across her weathered face. "Ah, sí. This I can help with. I know a man in town; he can get us the best semillas."
A sense of relief floods over me. But there's one word I don't understand yet. "Semillas?"
"Seeds," she points at the cilantro seeds on her palm.
"Thank you, Paz. Truly. I'll pay for everything-"
She waves off my offer. "No te preocupes. Don't worry. Lucas, he already gave me money. For anything you need."
His name hits me like a punch. Even now, he's still taking care of me. Tears prick my eyes. I blink them back and force a smile.
"Let's go see this man then."
Paz keeps up a steady stream of chatter as we walk into town. About her two sons who live in the big city, their fancy jobs in the government, and their favorite foods. She says nothing about their father, and I don't push. She must have reasons for him not being a part of her life. Maybe he's passed on. Whatever the story is, I’m just glad for the distraction.
Suddenly, she stops. Pulls me into a narrow alley. Reaches into her shawl and pulls out a small pistol.
My eyes go wide. "Paz, what-"
"Shh, ni?a. Just listen." She presses the gun into my hand. "You need to learn to protect yourself."
I stare at the weapon, the weight heavy and foreign. But Paz's gnarled fingers close over mine. "I took boxing lessons, I’m fine."
"No. Not enough." She inches the gun closer to me, refusing to take it back. "No tengas miedo. Don’t be afraid. I’ll teach you."
Looking into her fierce, dark eyes, I realize how little I truly know about Paz. But I trust her. Completely.
I square my shoulders and grip the gun tighter. "Okay. Show me what to do."