Page 79 of Wishing for La Luna
When we reach the door, we pause, and the two redcayenabushes are so charming, they look like a painting. Rio tugs at the chain around his neck and removes it, taking out the charm. He uses that key to unlock the door. I knew it was a key, but I thought he meant symbolically.
And then I remember his words.It’s the most valuable thing I own.
He opens the door and pushes it, and it’s like stepping back in time. It’s small, but it has a traditional small mahogany living room set, a settee loveseat, and two individual armchairs. The oval mahogany table is topped by a doily in the same shape. In the middle, there’s a vase with roses.
In the corner, there’s a seamstress’ dress form mannequin with a wire on the bottom with an old measuring tape draped over the neck. On the other side, in front of a tiny kitchenette, is a wooden table and two high-back guano chairs. The embroidered white tablecloth frames the table and features a fruit bowl in the middle, filled with real-looking mangos, oranges, and cherries. He closes the door, and I get a whiff of sweet, ripe mango fragrance in the air.
The fruit is real. So are the roses.
“I love this,” I say with my eyes on the black and white and vintage photo on the wall. The bride’s long white veil trails down and out onto the floor while the much taller groom holds both her hands as they face each other, smiling on their wedding day. Both resemble Rio but that pales in comparison to the next photo. The young woman in the flowery sun dress standing next to the sewing machine could be his doppelganger.
His mami.
“God, you look like them.” I turn to look at him, and I’m caught by the way he’s staring at the photos.
And then he exhales.
I touch his face. “What is it?”
He kisses my wrist. “I’m always scared of entering whenever I come back.”
“Why? It’s so peaceful here.”
“It’s a long story.”
The patter on the zinc-plank roof has me looking up, and then the rumbling of rain outside begins. “I think we have time. If you feel up to it…”
He shows me toward the back, which is sectioned off by a curtain. “I remember so vividly my first time coming here afterMamidied. I was a wreck. Wherever I went, I felt anger. Here, I felt a presence I couldn’t see.”
My heart knots as I cross the threshold and blink, because even though the same traditional wood planks are all around, in this room, there’s a modern bed, and on the wall, a framed TV displaying traditional Dominican art. It’s probably sixty inches. Under the TV, there are video games. On the opposite side, the king-size bed is made with dark-blue bedding and nestled between two nightstands, lamps, and a charging station. In the bathroom, there’s a clawfoot tub with a curtain around it on the far end. Lounging clothes—like the sweats and tank tops he likes— rest on an armchair near the bed.
Something occurs to me. “There’s air conditioning.”
“Yeah, I had it installed because when the sun hits the roofes un infierno.”
He’s here a lot.
“Rio, this is where you stay. This is your real room.”
Yeah, he nods but doesn’t move from the middle of the room. “This is where my peace is. I just have to get through the first few minutes. I’m always worried I won’t feel her, like she’s really gone. But once I settle down, I remember: she will never leave. Especially now with you. Thank you for coming with me.”
I move to him, wrapping my arms around his chest.
“Thank you for sharing it with me. I’m never going to forget this.”
He holds me tight. “We can go back to the main house. I know you like the view, and that’s better for a getaway. It’s more romantic.”
I pull away. “Are you serious? You just opened your heart to me. The only view I need is right here.”
His head rears back, his eyes lingering on mine for a few ticking seconds.
“Luna, I love you.” His eyes go round as if he didn’t know he was going to say that. But he did, and now my heart is racing as if it’s trying to escape my body.
19
Rio
My heart is in my throat. That’s not what I was going to say.
