"Imelda!"
Imelda groaned at the sound of her mother's voice. She recognized the tone. It was very fake and sing-songish. There was company over and not the kind that Imelda liked to entertain. Mustering up all her will power to be pleasant, Imelda strode out into the front room.
Sitting at the table across from her mother sat a mustache. Probably somewhere underneath it was a man too, but really all Imelda could focus on was the enormous black mustache. It covered most of the man's face, blending into his sideburns and covering his mouth, and curled into perfect "U"s around his nose. It was shiny and well groomed, and Imelda wouldn't have been surprised if he spent a large portion of his day grooming it.
The man underneath the mustache stood when she entered. "Señorita Imelda," he said in a slow, silky voice, "It is a pleasure to meet you at last."
Imelda was not sure what to say, still staring at his mustache.
"Imelda, you know Don Julián," her mother interrupted her thoughts.
Don Julián? Imelda blinked and looked past the mustache to actually get a good look at the man who was here to woo her. He was certainly different than she had pictured. He was at least younger than she expected, perhaps in his late twenties. He wore all black right down to his shiny leather boots with silver embroidery. His fashion choices spoke more of a ranch hand than a rich don, though he was not covered in dirt and sweat like a ranch hand would be. Other than that, the fancy embroidery on his boots and his cuffs was the only clue to his wealth. It was like a deliberate fashion choice to wear that style of clothing.
"Of course, Don Julián," Imelda said, holding out her hand, "I have heard all about you." This was a lie. She had only heard his name and that he intended to woo her through music. Other than that, she knew basically nothing.
"And I about you," he replied, taking her hand and kissing it. The mustache tickled her skin. He spoke with a very drab, slow, monotone voice. It seemed like it took him twice as long to get a sentence out than a normal person. "I had heard many people describe how beautiful you were, but I really do not think they did you justice."
Imelda resisted rolling her eyes. So many men had used that line on her already and she was almost sick of it. Couldn't they think of some other way to flatter her? She kept all of this to herself and instead responded, "You are too kind."
"I speak the truth," he said dully, "I am sure you have heard it many times before. Your mother has told me that you've had many suitors."
"Well..."
"Believe me when I say you are very beautiful."
Imelda nodded graciously. "Gracias, señor."
"Would you mind if we stepped outside for a moment?"
Imelda looked to her mother, praying that she would protest in some way.
"By all means, you two get better acquainted," her mother said, gesturing to the door.
Imelda held back a sigh and allowed Don Julián to lead her to the door. She should have known better. Her mother was hoping that Imelda would choose him even more so than her previous suitors. Not only was he a way to get Imelda off and married, but he was rich and would benefit their family greatly.
Don Julián lead Imelda towards the flower garden. He bent over and plucked a marigold and then handed it to her. His hand lingered over hers as she took it. "A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady," he said in his same unenthusiastic tone.
Imelda forced a smile, but didn't say anything. She was reminded of her earlier encounter with Ernesto de la Cruz and how much differently she felt with the exact same gesture. Ernesto had flare and feeling, Don Julián... it was almost as exciting as talking to a brick wall.
There was silence between them for a moment, but Imelda was not entirely sure how to break it. Luckily she was spared the trouble when he remarked, "What a beautiful sunset, eh?"
Imelda looked and had to agree with him at the sight of the sky smeared with different oranges, pinks, and purples. She had always thought the sunsets in Santa Cecilia were stunning.
"You know what that sunset reminds me of?"
Before Imelda could respond, he was down on his knees and taking her hands into his. "You," he answered his own question tediously, "Only you are more magnificent."
Imelda was taken aback by his very grand gesture. "What are you doing?"
"Telling you that you are beautiful," he replied as though it were extremely obvious.
"No, I mean what are you doing on the ground?"
"I wanted to look up into your eyes, I wanted to show you that you that you will always be above me."
Imelda did not know what to say. It was a very over-the-top and melodramatic speech, but his dull voice and unenthusiastic delivery definitely warped the mood of the whole thing. It puzzled Imelda greatly.
"Por favor, Imelda," he continued monotonously as though speaking in general were a great burden, "I do not want to push anything on you, but I do wish to continue seeing you. I will admit that before coming here, I was unsure about how I might feel about you and what you might be like, but now I can safely say that you are everything I could ever want and more."
Imelda knew she had to say something, but what? She remembered her mother's expectations and hopes. She thought of her own future and the idea of more and more suitors coming for her worse than Don Julián; even with his boring way of speaking and seeming lack of passion for everything. For a moment, her mind flitted back to Ernesto who had visited earlier. He had been charming and kind and didn't have an outrageous mustache or ear-grating voice. He had made his intentions clear as well, but would he really return? What if he didn't?
"Don Julián, you may call anytime," she finally replied.
"¡Excellente!" he exclaimed, although he did not sound very excited. He got to his feet. "Your mother has already invited me over for supper tomorrow."
