SPAIN: EXTRA CHAPTER 3: Our town, our fight
As the rain ceased, I walked out onto my balcony once more to see the town that had just been showered in heaven's tears. The clouds thinned and eventually, the sun's rays began to glitter through and I felt a fresh start coming. Even though so much had happened, I'd just have to learn to get over it.
Besides, it's inappropriate to obsess over a man that's gone, while I'll be sharing my life with another. I couldn't stop thinking about Manolo. What if he was looking down on me from the clouds with a broken heart as he saw me preparing for a wedding that's taking place about 5 hours after his proposal to me, and his death?
Oh, forgive me, Manolo. But your gone, and San Angel needs Joaquin to keep us safe. Even though Joaquin will win my heart over sooner or later, I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for you.
I soon heard crying. Chuy came running up next to me, and together we looked down from the balcony to see Mr. Sanchez carrying an object of a dark color. Becoming curious, I snatched my binoculars from my closet and zoomed in on the mysterious sight.
I wished I hadn't. I gasped so loud, I was worried he heard me; thankfully he didn't. I saw Carlos walk to the Proposal Tree, and start digging a hole. That's when I realized Manolo was that dark bundle Mr. Sanchez was carrying. He must have wrapped the corpse in a blanket.
My eyes began overflowing when he started lowering the body into the grave, and a gust of autumn's wind blew a portion of the covering off, so I could see Manolo's face. He hadn't been dead for that long, but that still doesn't mean the decaying process waited.
Like I mentioned, Manolo had been dead for only about five hours, and his skin was taking the rotting stage already. I cried and cried. HE WAS SMILING!
Quietly, I watched as Carlos recovered Manolo's face, and put him into the earth.
I thought for sure I'd faint while seeing the broken-hearted father pick up a nearby shovel and toss handfuls of hydrated soil into the hole and cry while he performed it. I don't know why, but I kept torturing myself by zooming in even nearer up to the point where I could see just the wrapped up shell. And little by little, the uncoffined grave became higher and higher as he dirt rose to the top.
From there, Carlos snatched a nearby sack he had brought with him. At first I thought it was just the bag to put the shovel back into; but then I saw him remove some interesting contents. Candles, marigolds, a poster of Manolo, a matador's cape, and an old, red, broken...guitar.
That was the very same guitar Manolo used to own when we were kids. I remember that day when we released all those animals and the instrument had been smashed in the process. Who knew that his family still held onto it?
Once the grave had been flattened out, he piled up the marigolds into a small, hill-like fashion. Then from there, he taped up that poster of Manolo over it. His cries became even more noticeable while he placed a nail into the tree while hanging the cape, and rested the broken guitar into the bed of flowers. Carlos' final touch was to scatter the candles all over; and then he kneeled.
He just kneeled. Poor man; once Manolo grew up, they never exactly had the tightest relationship. If only they knew how to exchange words.
I refused to watch anymore and decided to visit my father in the dining room. As he watched me descend from the stairs, he gave me a tender smile that contained a touch of sympathy.
"Hi, mi hija."
"Hi, Dad."
"Are you feeling better."
I wished he didn't ask that. Right now, I was in the process of trying to erase the sight of watching Manolo's burial from my mind, and now he brought it all back from that question of his.
"J-just fine..."
"Are you alright? Did you catch a cold from the rain?"
"No. I saw Mr. Sanchez burying Manolo from my balcony."
He patted the chair next to me. I obeyed the signal, and sat next to him. From the corner of my eyes, I could see his heart ache for me. Papa was never good with words, so he scooted the plate of cookies over to me.
"Maria, I know you loved that boy. But you're going to be marrying Joaquin today, and if you're gonna spend your life with him, then you need to get that Matador out of your head."
"Papa, he just died!"
"I know. I know. I'm not saying to get over him immediately, I'm just saying don't let him haunt you. Now come on over to the church; Sister Ana has been nice enough to sew you a last minute wedding dress. It's no prize, but It'll look just great on you."
Sadly, we walked to the church. I watched the sunrise's colors wash over the sky like a palette of orange, pink, and yellow watercolors had been spilled.
The sisters in the church began gave me the dress, the guests started pouring in. Everyone in town must've been there. Who could blame them? They were about to watch the protection creed being sealed at the altar.
The world felt gloomy around me as I walked down the aisle without so much as a bouquet. The candles weren't lit, and there were no decorations.
Joaquin was dressed in a white suit and gloves. He tried his best to smile, but we both knew we weren't in this chapel today for love.
The priest, Father Domingo, began.
"Maria Posada, do you take Joaquin to be your husband?"
I stood there feeling my frown become heavier and heavier.
"Yes. For San Angel, I do."
My conscience smacked me as I had just heard myself. I looked to the side to see Joaquin frown.
"And do you, Joaquin Mondragon, take Maria as your wife?"
He froze.
"I-I"
The ceremony was quickly interrupted by the sound of crashing and the sound of what I thought of the roof caving in. We all turned towards the front door and saw a couple of kids standing there screaming out a warning I was afraid of hearing.
"CHAKAL IS HEEEEERRRRREEEE!"
Before I could say anything, Joaquin sounded panicked. I saw him scanning his hand over his suit.
"M-my medal! It's on my other suit! I gotta go!"
Quickly, he took off out the side door. Almost on cue, I heard my father panic.
"But Joaquin is the only one who can defeat Chakal!"
Everyone that sat in the church quivered and quaked as they all began praying for their life.
It was about time this town regained its bravery. Before Joaquin ever became a hero, San Angel was tough; but they got used to a young man fighting their battles for them.
"We can fight them together, Papa."
END OF CHAPTER 3
