Chapter 11: A Place of one's Own

Thanks to When-a-Sprite-Meets-Unicorn, Verarose19, Ms S for the latest reviews. This chapter is like a mirror of chapter 4, which was a MaritzaPOV.

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Blanca looked at her white shoes, now gray with dust. These canvas sneakers weren't exactly the best choice for climbing the trail nearby the Park of Selaque . But, it was too late to care about that now.

She made a short break to look at the tall grass around her, to listen to the invisible insects that were humming softly. She was almost surprised to be there. She had left the house so quickly. She had greeted her neighbors chatting outside their doors, and followed the maze of alleys leading out of the village, almost without realizing it.

It was just a bad day, she knew that. One of those days, where the cries and complaints of her daughters, themselves also exhausted, were too difficult to bear. Tomorrow, everything would return to its place. But, tonight, she was just happy to have slammed the door and left the kids to Diablo. She thought back to the little nod he had given her when she said, quietly:

"I'm going out for some fresh air, or I think I'll break something."

In the warm evening, she was beginning to relax. . She breathed the imprint left by the heat of the day on the ground and the vegetation. Looking up, she saw the blue of the sky giving way to the bands of colors announcing the sunset: pink, purple, red ...

She barely felt the slight vibration in her right hand, and looked at her cell phone as if she was seeing it for the first time. Wiping her sweaty palm on her jeans, she stared at the screen. She sighed, continuing her walk. She didn't really want to talk, but she had to take the call.

XXX

Her hair pulled up in a bun, Flaca was sitting by the edge of a swimming pool. Blanca could see a little transparent water driping down her bare legs.

"Cool, your swimsuit," she said, looking at her through her phone screen.

"Thanks. I bought it there. I mean, in Newyork."

Blanca smiled. She was in Gracia, Flaca in Bogota. Neither had been to Newyork for almost a year. Yet, Newyork, was the United States, this adopted country that had rejected them. And, they would go back there immediately if they could.

"Are you okay?" Blanca asked to strike up the conversation.

"Yea. Look where I am."

They laughed: "Did you privatize the swimming pool in the building, or something like that?"

"And you, are you doing "Wild"?"

"My daughters are really painful," Blanca smiled. "I left them with Diablo. When I get home, night will have fallen and they will be sound asleep."

"It sucks. What was the problem?"

"Diana wanted to eat in the blue plate, and Flora wanted to eat in the green."

Flaca grined.

"Next time you'll swap plates. Juli is with Maritza in the recreation room. There's a soccer game. That's why I'm all alone here."

"Shit, when you talk about this place, it really sound like you're describing Litchfield, sometimes."

Blanca saw Flaca's hand pass in front of her eyes, her lips were shaking. She immediately felt uncomfortable.

Flaca blinked, said nothing for a few seconds.

"It looks like Litchfield, actually," she began. But, I got out of Litchfield. Sometimes I felt safe there. "

Blanca let her talk. Images were scrolling through her mind, memories of Flaca and Maritza giggling and making every space their playground, living as if Litchfield were a summer camp or a school with dormitories.

She had seen Flaca change. To the MAX she had realized that prison was an unfair and dangerous place. Life had to take Maritza from her for that.

"Did you have a fight?" She asked, trying to keep a sweet voice.

Flaca played with a long thin strand escaped from her bun.

"No. Everything is going well between us. Luckily. That's the only thing that makes Colombia tolerable."

"So, what's the problem?"

"The others, their gaze on us. And, there are people, all the time, everywhere. Sometimes I have the impression that they know what is going on behind the door of our apartment.

Blanca heard the sound of Flaca's furious feet, thumping the pool water. Maybe she should tell her to calm down. Instead, she narrowed her eyes skyward. Flaca's sadness was entering in her.

"Last Wednesday, we left Juliana with the neighbor," Flaca said. "We had an ice cream while walking down the street. A guy came up to us, and we tryed to make him go. He told we looked lesbians, he asked us to kiss each other.

"And you did it?"

"Yes," Flaca replied, so low that Blanca brought the phone closer to her ear to hear it. "He would never have left without it."

Blanca put a hand on the small of her back. A shiver ran through her, she recognized the fear.

"Maybe seeing you, he understood that ..." she said hesitantly.

"I had my hand in Maritza's pocket, or her in mine. I don't know anymore," Flaca said mischievously. "It's the kind of thing you do without thinking about it.

Blanca grabbed a strand of her own hair, rolled it between her fingers.

"You don't have to do this anymore," she said calmly. "Not in Colombia, not in the street in Colombia."

"So we have to stop living?"

Flaca's voice was higher, loaded with sobs.

"Listen to me," she said firmly, now. "If we are going back to United-States someday, I'll throw a big party to celebrate your love. Alright? I'll ask Gloria to lend us her coffee, and it'll be great. But here you are. just roommates. This country is not ready for that. "

Blanca did not add, that they were two lonely girls in this big city, and that a whole lot of things could happen to them. The time she lived in Tegu, with Diablo, had taught her that.

Flaca was crying, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Blanca's words slowly crept into her.

"Do you know there was a water leak at the Coffee Shop?" She asked after a few seconds.

Blanca smiled at Flaca casual tone.

"No. Who warned you?"

"Nicky. Apparently Gloria was able to open this week, but there are trails of water on the ceiling."

"Oh, she probably has some good insurance that will sort that out," Blanca observed, hugging her jacket around her, to shield herself from the evening breeze that was slowly coming down the mountain.

"Hmm. Nicky told me a stuff about insurance , but I can't remember what she said."

XXX

She left her shoes in the hall, and put her keys in the unicorn-shaped plate where many forgotten items were lying around. They made that little metallic tinkle, the one she loved so much, the one that meant that after a long day she was finally home.

Blanca suddenly felt peaceful. It was strange and unexpected, but she loved her life in Honduras. That's what she took away from her conversation with Flaca. She liked to line up the products on the shelves of the store, before the opening. She liked to pick up her daughters from school and take long walks with them in the village. She liked the quiet of mornings spent alone with Diablo, in their living room decorated with plants. And, she liked to sit in the little hole dug by nature in the middle of the path, alone, to read, or chat with her friends. It was her own place.

In the bathroom, she got rid of her clothes, turned on the water for the shower. She knew that their bedroom window was surely open to the cool evening air, that Diablo was waiting for her, listening to her getting ready for the night.

"Was your woke good?" He asked in a sleepy voice, as she lifted a corner of the sheet to join him.

"Hmmm. Next time it's your turn, if you want."

"There won't be a next time ... maybe," he added cautiously.

"I think Mrs. Jimenes is right when she says that we are raising them like Americans," Blanca smiled.

Diablo laughed, and she did it too. She lay down behind him, their legs tangled, her hands moving over his back and chest.

She closed her eyes, sensing sleep overwhelmher. Hopefully she wouldn't think about the future of the twins tonight.

"Good night," she mumbled.

"Good night, mi amor," Diablo replied.