Chapter 2

Antonio's visits became frequent; after he'd buy his copious amount of bread, he'd stay for a while and strike up conversation with Emilia as she worked. As the days progressed, she found out more about him. He was eighteen, practicing his father's business and engaged.

"To who?" Emilia had asked one day as she swept the cracked linoleum.

"The daughter of my father's business partner." Was the simple reply.

"Well… surely she's got a name."

"Oh, yes. Agatha. Agatha Van Damme. Pretty name, isn't it?" He had breathed wistfully, his eyes gazing into the distance.

Emilia looked at him, her brows furrowed in confusion, and for a brief second felt her heart deflate.

Two months passed by, and Antonio was still frequenting the bakery, revealing that he had no need to stay anymore; he had finished the task of completing his father's job.

"Then why are you still here? Don't you miss your fiance?" Emilia questioned, lounging against some worn out stairs that stood in the vast variety of differently structured buildings of the neighborhood.

"I do, but she's in Belgium, studying to become a teacher. She's good with kids you know, I think you'd like her."

"But why are you still here?" Emilia pressed on.

"I like the city… it's rugged and you can get away with a lot. Just the other night, I saw a group of boys light a bunch of kindling in the middle of a neighborhood, mind you, and just chatted around it and drank merrily. It was crazy, and I realize that… they didn't need much to have a good time. Yeah, that's why I think I like it. The minimalism."

The petite girl shrugged and sipped on the coca-cola he had bought for them, giving an offhand comment about how stuff like that happens all the time.

"Wouldn't you get tired of the same thing though? I know I do."

He ruffled her unruly dark hair and laughed.

"I'm not just wandering around the same places, you know. I'm actually exploring and taking in my surroundings. For example, look at the buildings around you," he gestured to the makeshift architect, tall, dangerous looking dwellings built upon the rolling hills of the land, "you think everything looks the same, but it has its own distinction, doesn't it?"

Emilia stared out into the horizon, its stagnant line marred with buildings that looked like specks in the distance.

"You do have a point. I never noticed that the Sanchezes made a window out of an old door."

Antonio chuckled and sat next to her on the stairs from his spot on a broken pedestal.

"Look, smarty, I'm talking about how many opportunities life throws at you. You gotta take those opportunities and make the most of them."

She nodded, not entirely sure where he was getting at.

"When you told me you didn't go to school," He continued, "I was crushed. I feel like you're too smart to have something like that taken away from you."

He shot a glance at her to see if she was paying attention, and sure enough, her dark almond eyes were fixated on him.

"Well, what I'm trying to get at is," he fumbled with his words as he tried to process his thoughts, "I would like if you come live with me, so you can get proper schooling. I'd like you to think about it-"

"Yes."

"What?" He looked baffled, and his features finally softened when he stared down at the determined looking girl, "Emilia, you can't just say yes to something so delicate and complex. We have to to talk to your aunt and uncle, and then there's the living arrangements, but those won't be a problem-"

"Antonio, I said yes already! I don't think you realize how badly I want to leave here. I don't want this to be all I know- waking up early in the morning, having to do the same thing over and over, knowing that that's all I'm going to do for the rest of my life. Before he left- my father, he said to try to make something of myself, he knew what the world was like, he traveled all over it! I want to do that too- it's just, it's nice to have options, you know?"

She choked back the last of her words and looked away from him and stared out into the rudimentary landscape. Dried up mountainsides, crackling foliage with the occasional planted tree and unkempt garden, to her, it was an empty wasteland littered with broken hopes and dreams.

"I see… but we do need to talk to your aunt and uncle. I want this for you as much as you do. My father has taken in other kids as well, and now they're attending various schools. You're still a little girl-"

"I'm fifteen now. My birthday was in September."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, his voice dripping with incredulity.

"Didn't seem important, I never celebrate it."

"Oh- well, I guess now you're a young lady… but you still have a lot ahead of you. You know that right?"

Emilia nodded her head and twiddled her thumbs.

"Well, want to talk to them now?"

He stood up, and held out his hand to help her up, and she was grateful for her tan skin, as it hid her blush. They walked together, chatting idly as they made their way to the bakery, Emilia fidgeting with the hem of her embroidered apron.

"You know, I always see you wearing that apron. Even when you're not working." Antonio looked down at its multicolored flowered pattern, contrasting against the weathered white linen.

"It's comfortable and it hides the fact that this dress is too big for me." She stated simply, almost quietly.

"Ah…," He suddenly regretted pointing out her attire, "It's pretty."

She stifled bitter laughter and looked up at him.

"It was my mother's. It's the only thing I really have that's mine, you know? To tell you the truth, I feel like my aunt and uncle put up with me. I've been living with them for about three years now, and it still feels like I'm not welcomed. I know they love me, but to a certain extent… I know that the only person that could ever put up with me was my mother…"

She trailed off softly, and replaced her somber demeanor with a bright smile, one of the brightest he's seen since he first started spending time with her outside the bakery.

"I don't know, since you showed up, things started getting better."

The sincerity in her voice made him stop walking. No one had ever said that to him, not even his fiance, who only spoke of how happy he made her. Life had always been good for Agatha, so there was no need for her to voice false serendipity. But to the petite girl- now the fragile little woman that looked at him with so much hope and adoration, he knew he was doing something even God would smile upon.