Chapter 48 #2
She slipped on her headphones and let the strings from the violin and cello guide her mood as she wrote.
It was a story of heartbreak and loss. Using the emotions that were so close to her, she poured into the story the challenges she felt as a widow.
Her prayer was that a reader who found her novel would be moved and feel seen, understood.
Her protagonist soon took on a life of her own as she described what it was like to love and lose someone as important as a spouse.
Taking a break and checking her phone, Aria was surprised to find that several hours had passed. Removing her headphones, she opened the bottle of water she had brought and drank almost half of it in one long drink.
Looking up when she heard the soothing sounds of a street musician playing the saxophone, she stopped to listen. The music reminded her of the playlist Alex had on at the house the first night she was there.
She wondered what he was doing.
In a moment of weakness, she picked up her phone. Her finger hovered over his number, but she stopped before placing the call.
Deciding to push back those feelings for the time being, she checked in with Natalia and Luna, then went in search of lunch before heading back to the townhouse.
Santo had texted that there was plenty of food at his place, so upon her arrival, she started to prepare a simple stir fry with some chicken breasts and various vegetables she found in his refrigerator.
When he arrived home later that evening, he called out for her.
“Hey, sorry I’m a little late. A client wanted to go over blueprints for the hundredth time on my way out.”
“In here,” she called out from the kitchen. “No worries. Dinner is ready and just staying warm.”
Handing him a glass of chilled pinot grigio, Aria turned off the stove.
“A guy could get used to this,” he said as he clinked the wine glass she was holding. “How was the park?’
“Oh my goodness, Santo. The pictures online didn’t do it justice. I’ve found my writing spot. I got so much done today.”
“So glad you like it. I knew you would. What’s for dinner? I’m starved.”
“Just some chicken stir fry. I also experimented with saffron rice. It came out better than I thought,” she answered, plating them both a healthy portion.
“Let’s eat in the living room. More comfortable,” Santo said, leading her to the overstuffed sofa and coffee table.
They sat and ate, talking more about their day.
“This is good, sis. Thanks for cooking.”
“The least I can do, showing up at the last minute like this.”
“You know you don’t need to announce you’re coming. So, the writing was good?”
“Mhm, so good,” she answered excitedly. “It’s taken on a life of its own. It had all the makings of a love story, but I’m fleshing it out more now.”
“What’s the story about?” he asked, taking in another big mouthful of food.
“Well, the protagonist is a widow rediscovering her life, facing challenges, going on adventures.”
“So, it’s your story.”
“Yeah, I hadn’t intended for it to happen that way, but I guess it is. It’s been painful to dig deep and describe those early years. But I feel good about this.”
“Make so much sense, Aria. Write what you know.”
“That’s the idea. But I want to include her finding love again.”
He smiled at her and tilted his head.
“What?” she asked.
“Will the new love she finds happen to be a famous photographer by any chance?
Tapping his shoulder with hers, she answered shyly, “I haven’t decided yet.”
They talked late into the night about his new projects at work and her visit with their parents. Aria couldn’t help glancing at her phone several times.
When Santo caught her doing it, he asked, “Has he called?”
“Not since I got here. He called and texted a bunch of times after our conversation, but they stopped by the time I arrived. Corinna knows not to say anything if he calls.” She shrugged her shoulders and stood to take their plates to the kitchen. “It’s better this way.”
“Well, you’re probably right. Do you think he took the job you said he was set to leave for?”
Turning on the faucet to rinse the dishes, she said, “I hope so. But I won’t reach out. Not yet anyway.”
“Okay, well, I’ve got to answer a few emails I missed when that client showed up unannounced. Need anything?”
“All good. See you in the morning.”
“Thanks for dinner. Tomorrow night I’ll take you out. And the day after that, I can leave early so we can see some sights.”
“Sounds great, hon. Night.”
“Night,” he called out, heading to his home office.
The next few days flew by. Aria got into a routine with her writing while Santo was at work, and on the days he was able to leave early, they toured around Madrid.
They saw the Royal Palace and Puerta de Alcala, but Aria's favorite was Sorolla Museum. They ate tapas at a gorgeous outdoor cafe, Santo excitedly pointing out the different styles of architecture.
“I love these Baroque-style buildings the best,” he said.
“I can see why. These massive stone walls and arches are stunning. My favorite buildings so far are the churches. The statues and stained glass, wow, it just takes my breath away. They remind me of home.”
“The architecture is similar, but Spanish architecture has more intricate tilework, horseshoe arches and decorative plasterwork.”
Santo looked away from the buildings and saw Aria’s smirk.
“What?” he asked.
“Architecture nerd,” she said with a chuckle.
He rolled his eyes, and they chatted for a few minutes more about the buildings nearby.
Aria sighed and said, “I feel like I’m living for the first time since we lost Nicholas.
This trip has opened the world to me. The people, the food, the culture—all of it has brought me to a place where I want to write.
I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. I’m compelled by the beauty around me. Santo, I think I’ve found my voice.”
“I think you have,” he said lovingly.
When the week was coming to a close, Aria called Natalia and Luna to let them know she wanted to extend her trip a little longer. The announcement came as a surprise to her staff, but they assured her they were able to handle the load.
She and Santo were sipping on limoncello one night when Corinna called.
“Hey, love,” Corinna said when Aria answered.
“Hang on, let me switch it to video so you can talk to Santo, too,” Aria said, making the adjustment.
“So, what’s this text I got about you staying? Do I need to grab a plane and come bring you home?”
“Oh no. Madrid’s not ready for you, Corinna,” Santo groaned.
Aria and Corinna laughed loudly.
“You’re probably right,” she answered. “So, how long are you staying?”
“I’m not sure. The writing is just flowing. I want to see this through. Why? Miss me already?”
“One, yes I do. Two, you stay as long as you need to. And three, I’m thrilled for you.”
“Thanks. I feel so at peace here. This was a great idea.”
“Can’t wait to read it. Well, I’ll let you two get back to your evening. Just wanted to check in.”
“I’ll call you in a few days.”
“Do that. And Aria. Not sure if this will help or hurt, but Alex called right after you left. He wanted to find you and make sure you were okay. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wasn’t sure what to do.”
Santo tapped her knee as he stood up and walked to his room to give them some privacy.
“What did he say?”
Blowing out loudly, Corinna answered, “Said he was upset and hurt, but cared more about how you were. He sounded bad so I told him you weren’t home, that you had left. He was on your porch banging on your door.”
Aria’s eyebrows raised but she didn’t say anything for a few moments, letting the news settle in.
“Did, did he leave for Argentina?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t call back, but he seemed devastated. He sounded like he might try to find you, so I had to tell him you weren’t in Positano.”
“I understand. Well, I hope he did leave for the project. That’s what I wanted him to do.”
“You okay?”
“Not sure,” Aria said softly.
“Well I’m here if you want to talk. Always.”
“I know. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Aria forced the thoughts of Alex out of her mind as she readied for bed. She had a book to finish and that would be her priority. It had to be.
Two weeks later, while sitting out on Santo’s small veranda, Aria looked up at the star filled sky and immediately her thoughts went to Alex, wondering if he was looking at them as well.
She had continued writing every day and was beginning to feel like a real author as the pieces started to come together. She thought about the kintsugi bowl back home.
My pieces are starting to come together, too.