Old acquaintance
Somewhere in the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas, Ynez sorts through her clothes. She told Darius she’d make more room for his belongings, and even though he doesn’t seem to need it, once the urge to clean out closets hits, it cannot be denied. Some things for charity, some things for the trash can, some things to keep. It should be simple, right?
So many memories tied up in the simplest bits of fabric and stitching.
At the very back of her closet, she comes across two boxes, one large, one smaller. Her fingertips trail through the thin film of dust on the large box. She wipes it off with her sleeve, but then only opens the small one, its contents completely ignored next to its companion’s. Inside, a few folded keepsakes. There’s an old t-shirt of Pedro’s - that Monsters of Rock festival they’d sneaked off to when she was just fifteen, she’d completely forgotten about that - she’d kept it to wash it for him but never intended to give it back. She holds it up to her cheek for a moment, closes her eyes to remember, but can’t recall his face. Hesitating for a long moment, Ynez places the shirt back in the box.
There’s always later.
***
After the New Year, the letter catches up with her in Rome. It had been written in November, around the time of Carlos’s birthday. Ynez gets one every year. Normally she throws it away unopened. Whatever Luciana has to say, she doesn’t want to hear it.
This year is different.
It’s a surprisingly chatty letter from a woman Ynez could have sworn hated her. It’s filled with news about people she once loved, Carlos’s brothers and cousins and nieces and nephews, the whole clan as chaotic and crazy as her own.
Ynez is surprised to find that she still thinks of Luciana as her mother-in-law, even now, even after everything that happened.
The letter ends up back in its envelope, tucked away in a pocket in her purse. She needs to write back, she tells herself, but it’s forgotten within a day, a little time bomb waiting for her the next time she tries to find her library card.
***
Father García comes to the house every week to see her while she’s in the wheelchair. Lupe had dragged Ynez out to Mass once, but after that fiasco of shameful self-consciousness, she refused to go back. Father David took it all in stride, the way he took everything about their family - everything about the world - in stride. He just brought his little traveling holy kit and came by after lunch on Tuesdays, when he knew the aunts would be gone. First, he gives her communion, then they have tea. Ynez tells him things, and he listens, the way he always has.
Sometimes he stays for dinner, just like before, and he and her father would end up on the back porch with big stinky cigars. They’d known each other forever, or at least since her father came to Los Angeles, back when he’d barely been a man. When she was small, Ynez had listened to their conversations late into the night, those deep male voices rumbling, occasional laughs and curses breaking the gentle flow of indistinct sounds.
Yes, Father David cursed when he thought nobody but her Papi was around. Ynez never let on that she knew. The worst she ever heard from him was during Christmas, in 1997, when the news came from Acteal, in Chiapas. He didn’t even try to hide his anger that day. Her father was too upset for words, but David found the ones that needed to be said, then and later.
He’s one of her heroes. She loves him more than almost anyone she knows.
Father David is getting old now, like her father. No, they aren’t getting old, they are old, both of them. Grizzled, aging bears, each with their own battles still to fight, each pushing back against the passage of time with everything they have. It’s easy for Ynez to forget how much time has gone by, even when it’s obvious how much her father has aged. When she sees David for the first time in months, or even years, it can’t be denied any longer.
***
As far as these events are measured, it isn’t all that long before she takes the large box from her closet and opens it. She wants to show Darius what’s inside, tell him the stories. There has not been time for dust to accumulate, so only a slight odor of lilacs and optimism puffs up when she lifts out the long white gown and holds it up in front of herself. First her grandmother’s, then her mother’s, and most recently hers, fine lace and satin and seed pearls, something from another age and time.
These days, she barely remembers the girl she was then, but the dress still fits her.
Muse: Ynez Castillo
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count: 820ish