Thank you very much to The Walrus and the Carpenter for helping me Beta this document.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Bright Moon.
Chapter 1.-Getting ready.
POV:Amalia Valencia
Location: Mexico (previously La Nueva España)
Year:1852
It has been a few months since I have been able to sleep; between being nervous for Marian's disappearance and having constant coughing attacks. Not being able to rest explains why my body hasn´t been able to heal itself.
I open my eyes and realize to my great surprise that the sun is no longer high in the sky; it is finding its way towards the west and lowering its altitude. The shadows from my window have moved as well. It seems I missed lunch; my stomach's kind enough to inform me with the noise it's making. I should go to the kitchen and steal something to keep me set until dinnertime.
I stand up and feel the latest dizzy spell; at first my world becomes all black, as if I am wearing a black cloth over my eyes, and I feel my legs faltering. I hear a rustling noise that starts to sound far away, and grab the bedpost to prevent myself from falling. It's a good thing I am near the bed; my strength is faltering. I manage to sit down on the mattress and wait until I can finally focus my sight, and for the yellow walls to stop spinning. I close my eyes and breathe slowly, trying to get air into my lungs; however, it has been a long while since I´ve felt them completely fill themselves.
My body is protesting once again; I had the false idea thinking that a couple of hours of siesta (translation: nap) would compensate the lack of several months of sleep. I sigh, my stomach is going to have to wait for Jacinta to come and help me to the dining room.
I hate being so weak—one would think I'd be used to it by now. All of my life I have been the sick child of the family, the one that couldn´t go outside to play with my sisters, go to a fiesta (translation: party), or even to church. Papa arranged with the priest to come and join us for dinner every Sunday, and in return he would teach me about God.
Most of my life I´ve been locked in this house. Papa's afraid the next sickness will be my last; so far I´ve proved them wrong. I´ve always manage to survive each and every one—even as a baby, being premature—but the odds are against me. Papa likes to tell me I was so little, I could fit in the palm of his hand, like a small doll, and that it was hard to believe I was a living creature.
I manage to surprise every physician when I survive; unfortunately, my birth Mother, Angela, didn´t. The cholera was what provoked her going into labor earlier than anybody expected, and it was the reason she lost her life. However, I was lucky enough that she met me.
"You are going to make it, my little Maya, you are a fighter." Jacinta likes to remind me, each time I get sick, what my Mother hopes were for me, her newborn child. I have been close to dying more than once, but it seems Death likes to check on me every now before deciding in the last minute that it isn´t my time to leave.
I start feeling better and open my eyes. The yellow walls have stopped moving, and I can see my room properly. The window in the corner, letting the sunlight come in, informs me a storm is approaching. It's probably drizzling; the smell of wet grass is becoming more powerful, meaning it's not long before it starts to rain.
I move my head around and see the piano at one corner of the room; its silence indicates that it misses my fingers running across the keys. Hanging in the wall next to it is the violin and the flute. It has been so long since the last time I played, ever since Marian disappeared six months ago.
I can feel the hole that has formed in my heart fill with pain and longing. I miss her; this is so unlike her. I know something bad happened to her; she would have made every possible attempt to contact me, to let me know that everything is fine. Unfortunately, I haven´t received one single letter from her. At first, I was hoping she had run away with the man she loved. She was head over heels for him, but after Mama´s close inspection she decided he didn´t deserve a girl like her. He didn´t have what it took to be worthy, which in her terms, meant the right position and the right amount of money in the bank or land. She never cared he was good hearted, hardworking and that he like children. He would have been an excellent father to his children; it was obvious, especially the way he played with his niece and nephew in the park. I could see him from my bedroom window. Marian couldn´t have picked a better suitor; he never lied to any of us about his position, but Mama stopped her and threw him out of the house.
"Preciosa," (translation: Beautiful) I turn slowly and see Jacinta coming in, my Nana. (translation: Babysitter); She has been with us before I was born. She was a girl back then, but took me under her wing the minute my mother died. As usual she has a smile on her lips and her cheeks are rosy. She has a few strand of hair loose and some leaves in it. It seems she's had a quick meeting with Jose, her Corazón (translation: heart), as she calls him, "you finally woke up from your siesta."
She looks so happy, I don´t want to ruin her beautiful smile. I won´t tell her about the latest dizzy spell
"Yes, Jacinta." I smile back at her. "How is your Corazón?" her eyes widen, informing me that I caught her; she flushes.
"Shhh, Niña (translation: Child)! You are going to get me in trouble" She does a quick take back at the door and closes it behind her. She looks reproachful at me. She isn´t supposed to see Jose during her working hours, but I know nobody was near my room; I didn´t hear any creaking from the wooden floor.
"Nobody is out there, Jacinta." I try to calm her nerves, and she sighs in relief. "But seriously, you should just get married. You have been dating for so long." I was ten years old when they both started seeing each other—a total of ten years. I almost feel sorry for Jose. "Besides you just can´t keep away from each other." I laugh when she flushes more.
"Niña!(translation: Child!)" She laughs a little bit. "Let´s get you ready, before deciding what my future is going to be. Mama is expecting a visitor."
Well that definitely killed the good mood.
"Who is it going to be this time?" My voice whinny.
I can still remember the last couple of ´suitors´ Mama brought. She's really is desperate to get Marissa married. The first candidate was closer to Papa´s age; the second one, I wouldn´t wish that man on anybody—not only he was not good looking, but he had no sense of humor whatsoever, and no patience for Marissa.
"Someone new," Jacinta answers me while she opens my closet and analyses the dresses hanging in it. Her face is pensive; it seems it must be somebody important, considering how much thought she is giving to the decision. She finally pulls two dresses out, and brings them closer to the bed. As soon as I see them my hopes go down to the floor; both of them would require the oxygen deprive cage, known better as a corset.
"We could use the brown dress, that won´t need a corset," I say, but Jacinta cuts me off with her headshake. She makes her way to the side of the bed where I am sitting and takes my arm and prepares to help me get up. Where she gets her strength from is a complete mystery; we are the same height—her build is thicker than mine, but not by much.
"Slowly on the count of three," she says gently while looking at my eyes.
"Okay," I prepare myself while Jacinta counts.
She pulls me up slowly and supports my weight until she verifies that my legs are holding me up, and there is no danger of me falling down. I give her a reassuring smile, but she doesn´t believe me.
"Hold to the bedpost, Niña."
I do as I'm told; I know she's not going to let go of me until I comply with her wishes. Once I am done she moves quickly.
"Mama should let Marissa enjoy being single a little longer—she just turned fifteen last week," I continue the previous topic, trying not to think about how hard breathing is going to become. I am already having a hard time with it as we speak.
"Old enough according to her," she returns and starts to help me remove my previous dress.
"I wish Marissa would stand up to her. I would hate to see her miserable for the rest of her life, because Mama thinks happiness is measure by the quantity of money her husband has," I keep talking while helping Jacinta remove my dress the best that I can.
The coldness of my room hits my almost naked body, making me shiver. Jacinta speeds up and puts the corset on me, and with her expert hands, start lacing it.
"Let Marissa be the one to do that, Niña (translation:child). Don´t give her another reason to hate you."
I roll my eyes at Jacinta; she can´t see it; her are eyes following the lacing she is working on.
What is another item on the list going to affect? Mama has been counting on me dying for a long time—probably ever since she married Papa sixteen years ago. Every time death has decided to spare my life, it translates into her hating me more. There's nothing I can do about that.
"If you ask me, Marissa should marry for love," I say, as Jacinta pulls the laces to tighten the corset. Immediately my breathing capacity reduces significantly, "not for convenience. Don´t you think, Jacinta?"
"Niña, when they ask my opinion on the mater I´ll let them know, but right now, my position in the house is to help you and keep my opinions to myself." She continues tightening the laces "Who knows, maybe she can learn to love this new suitor."
"Jacinta, you know better than anybody that you can´t force love," I say, and she chuckles, her mind probably back with Jose. "Look at poor Anna; what a terrible end she's had."
Her hands hesitate for a moment, before continuing without any further comment.
Anna was our neighbor who was around Marian's age. Her parents found a proper suitor who had an important position in the government. She was so excited about her wedding and worked together with her mother diligently with the arrangement. According to Marissa it was the wedding of the century; nobody doubted that Anna and her husband were happy—on that particular day. At least, that is what I heard, considering I was too sick to attend. However, life is not a fairy tale. The dream faded and reality arrived taking the bliss and happiness that the bride and groom displayed. It was obvious Anna was not happy. According to the rumors, her husband had a lover and ignored Anna to the point of abandonment. Anna kept the perfect façade of a newlywed, and became a prisoner in her own home, with not a glimpse of happiness for the future. She started to fade, as a flower on autumn, losing her spark and smile, then, a couple of years into her marriage, I could see her coming and going to her parents' house, a frown on her forehead each time she had to return home.
Only once I saw that old smile of hers, when crossed paths in the street with a young man that worked for a nearby landlord, running errands in town. His position was not high, judging by his clothes; however, that didn´t matter, her expression changed completely, and her breath caught. He stopped walking, looking at her intently. The small interaction lasted a couple of seconds, ending with a shake of her head before she walked past him without a backward glance. Both of their faces had instantly fallen. She was discreet, keeping the right attitude that society expected; he turned and followed her with his eyes, until she disappeared around the corner, and continued his chores as if nothing happened.
I don´t have a doubt in my mind that in that moment they were both heartbroken.
A few months later the terrible news hit our house; Anna died. There were different rumors regarding her passing, one was that Anna was caught trying to leave her husband, and who obviously wouldn't allow it, so instead she took her own life. The second rumor was that her husband found out about Anna having a lover and took matters into his own hand, killing both of them.
Everybody believed the first rumor; it was more likely considering the change everybody observed in her. Somehow, I believed more in the second one.
"Shhh! Niña, not everybody has a tragic ending. Just look at your parents," she says, putting the final touches on the corset.
I look at her full of disbelief, which makes her bite her lower lip nervously.
The fact that they had made it work by practically ignoring each other doesn't mean they are happy. I knew Papa´s heart has and will always belong to my mother, but Papa needed a wife to help raise his daughters, and Mama wanted a husband to raise her position in her society. It seemed like the perfect arrangement.
"We should stop with the chit-chat and finish preparing you," she ends the conversation, probably afraid of being caught gossiping. She quickly pulls the dress from the hanger and helps me put it on. She closes the dress not looking too happy at it, as she pulls the laces as much as she can. "You have lost weight, Niña." She sounds worried.
I ignore her comment and walk slowly to the dresser; I feel relieved when I sit down, happy to finally rest the weight of my body in the chair.
Jacinta works swiftly on my hair. If there is one thing I know my sisters envy, it's my hair. It doesn´t have the curls of Marian, or the beautiful chestnut color of Marissa, but it is long, thick and as dark as night, with its own shine. Jacinta starts putting it up, as the misses are expected. I know Mama instructed her on how to do it, considering the hairdo doesn´t complement my features. Mama wants to make sure the attention goes to Marissa and not me.
Why does she even bother? Honestly, nobody in his right mind is going to pay any attention to the sick little one.
Jacinta helps me stand up and we both walk to where the mirror is located at one end of the room, next to the overloaded bookcase. I enjoy seeing her angry look at the books almost falling from it; she likes everything in perfect order, and the bookcase gets on her nerves. There isn´t much she can do about it; I know she has tried, but having this many is hard to store in a proper order.
I adore my books, the variety of them, from languages, science, and math; however, the ones I love the most are stories and novels. Marian and Marissa spend their time sewing, painting or doing social gossiping—something Mama considers is worth for a future Mrs. No-man-likes-his-women-to-be-smarter-than-him, so she discourages them from reading. When night falls they like coming to my bedroom and lay in my bed next to me while I tell them a bedtime story. This activity brought us together and made us tight. I could hardly join them outside or in dances, but at the end of the day, they will always seek me out—or at least they used to. Now it's only Marissa; the other side of the bed is cold from the lack of Marian's presence.
I divert my attention from the bookcase and see my reflection on the mirror. I like the color of the dress; it's a light pink that manages to bring some color to my pale complexion, and a perfect contrast to my black hair. I like the ruffles on the sleeves with small rose embroidery on them. At my chest there is a beautiful ribbon that criss-crosses from my chest to my stomach area. It usually fits perfectly, but Jacinta is right, I´ve lost weight, and it's no longer providing the right form to the area. Mama is not going to be happy about it.
I hear the creaking of the wood outside of my room. Somebody is coming. I turn my head to see our newcomer.
"Amalia?" Mama enters my room without bothering to knock and makes a quick inspection of my dress. One of her eyebrows goes up, joining her frown. It seems she is not happy with the result, but keeps the comment to herself.
"Yes, Mama," I answer back with some attitude.
"It's almost time." She signals to Jacinta to leave the room. She follows the order without uttering a word, closing the door behind her. "You know what you need to do?"
The only reason I am allow to attend is because she wants me to analyze this new suitor, and make sure he's not another charlatan. With all the Spanish and creole that are in town trying to rise the social ladder, it's becoming harder to tell apart the charlatans from the ones that Mama is interested in.
"Yes, Mama." I close my eyes and get a hold of the bookcase as another dizzy spell forms. I should have eaten something.
By the time I open my eyes again Mama is leaving the room, not concerned for my wellbeing. She has higher priorities; to make sure her daughter, Marissa, is ready for this stranger.