Page 30 of After the Fire
“Do you ever wonder if the choices you made were the right ones?” I turned my body to face him, which meant that his hand shifted, and it was no longer on my leg. I felt its absence immediately.
“Yeah,” he huffed. “All the time.”
We sat on the loveseat for what felt like hours, lost in thought. Eventually, the room was dark, and the only lights I could see were coming in from the window.
“It’s a weird feeling, like I’m frozen and the world around me is on fire, you know?” I said after a while. Even if I was frozen in place, I saw it move, evolve, change. “It sounds a little bit selfish, saying that my life is on fire so the world has to stop.” I shook my head. “I sound delirious.” I smiled in the dark. I could hear Santiago’s breathing right next to me. Our bodies were next to each other, touching from shoulder to knee.
“What’s your favorite color?” The question interrupted our long silence.
I laughed.“What? Why?”
He shrugged in the dark, then turned to look at me. I could feel the heat of his gaze on my face. “Just… cause.”
“Publicly? Blue. That’s what I’m supposed to say.” It was weird to be trained on having a favorite color, but our family was so visible that I had to have answers to these ridiculous questions at the ready. “But it’s really pink, although Susana absolutely hates it. She says it’s too childish, and a woman my age shouldn’t be saying things like that.” I shrugged but couldn’t contain my cackle, and he laughed in return, a laughter so deep that my whole being vibrated with want.
“Seriously?” He sounded surprised. I couldn’t quite see his face; it was covered in the shadows that my own body cast. “That’s, um…”
“She’s fucking ridiculous,” I agreed.
“Why do you put up with it?” He was curious now. We were getting into more intimate territory. So far, we had both shared things with each other. I knew I had been vulnerable, and I felt the same from him. Raw vulnerability as he shared his gripes and concerns.
“That’s a great question.” I rested my head on the back of the couch and closed my eyes. “I never really thought about it. When my grandfather disappeared, she really had a hard time, and then my mother died and she took over, so I guess I always knew she was looking out for what was best for me, you know? Like, she sacrificed so much for her family that I guess I never really doubted her. I mean, she’s always looking out for me, so…” I shrugged.“What isyourfavorite color?” Never in a million years did I imagine I would be sitting here with him, asking him these questions. Getting to know him.
“Dark red,” he said immediately. He didn’t give it a second thought. “Like the dark, deep red of the leaves when they start to change in the fall.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because there’s nothing we can do about change except admire it, flow with it. It’s necessary. Because the dark red leaves mean the promise of new things to come.”
16
THE SUSPICION
The next morning was rough.Santiago and I had stayed up late, chatting about everything and anything. When he left, he kissed my cheek so softly, it made me gasp in surprise. I wanted to ask about Clara, ask him what happened. Because our proximity had taken a turn, and suddenly there were touches and intimate looks and kisses. Hand holding. It wasn’t much, but it wasn’t not much.
I wanted to think I wasn’t delirious. I hadn’t been imagining all those glances and smiles, the way he touched me and wanted to be close to me. How he held me like there was no one else he’d rather be holding. Because there wasn’t.
Oh my god.
And to top that off, I barely slept. So many thoughts running through my mind, so little time to figure them all out. The proximity to Santiago—albeit helpful—was confusing me even more.
There was a knock on the door. Of fucking course. The universe was playing a trick on me, so every time I thought about Santiago, the energies that were summoned him to my rescue.
“Santiago, how are you not tired? I nee—Oh.”
“Hi, Victoria. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by without notice,” Carlos, Santiago’s grandfather, said with a big smile on his face. “Were you waiting for my grandson, or can I come in for a minute or so?”
“Um, yes, sure, come in.” I shook my head at the image of Santiago’s grandfather walking into my room. The man was dressed to the nines, wearing dark charcoal slacks and a white shirt that was impeccably pressed. His cufflinks caught in the sunlight seeping through the blinds, his initials clear as day. He walked to the end of the room and sat on the loveseat. I moved my laptop to the coffee table and closed it shut. He smiled at me and nodded to the seat next to him, and I sat. Carlos interlaced his fingers and set them on his lap.
“You have his eyes.” He sighed. “I saw it that first night you came to the house, but it was too much of a coincidence.I didn’t believe it at first. I mean, what are the odds? But those eyes are so unique. It’s not only the color, but the way they narrow and your forehead creases when you are unsure about something.”
My hands were shaking on my lap so uncontrollably I had to sit on them to calm myself down. The man talked to me like he knew me.
“And then Santiago comes around asking questions about him, and it clicked. It’s been years since I last saw him, but I wouldn’t ever forget his eyes.”
I looked at him, his eyes soft and patient. I shook my head at him once more, trying to process what this man was telling me.
“What happened to him?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. He sat up and straightened his spine. He draped one of his arms casually on the back of the couch, a move so similar to what Santiago had done a number of times when he was around me.
