Chapter 3

When Antonio had broached the subject of having Emilia move in with him, her aunt had reacted less than reasonably.

"What do you want with our niece, you pervert?" Her aunt had shouted when he sat them down at their kitchen table.

"Graciela please, let the man talk." Her uncle interjected, before calmly turning to the distraught young man sitting across from them, "Now give me one good reason why I should give Emilia to you."

"Well, I mean, I would be able to provide for Emilia. Give her housing, food, clothes, all that stuff. Especially schooling. She could go to the school of her choice- and I know that you might think I'm taking an extra hand away at the bakery. Believe me, I've thought this out for a while. But what do you say- if you agree to let Emilia come live with me, I'll wire three hundred dollars to you, every month for any expenses you have."

His tone had turned from flustered to calm and collected, revealing just how poised he could be when discussing business. And from the look on her uncle's wrinkled face, brows furrowed and lips pursed in deep concentration, it had worked.

"Make it three fifty and you have yourself a deal, Mr. Carriedo." He stated gruffly.

Antonio nodded, a look of relief breaking through his faux tonicity. They shook hands on it and then they turned to their topic of discussion, who had been sitting at a corner of the table, quietly.

"Are you sure you want to do this Emilia," Her uncle asked gently, looking over at his wife who had been staring down at the table with a hand clasped over her mouth since she had been silenced.

The young girl nodded, affirming her decision.

"No use asking about it now, tio," she evoked somberly, "You already shook on it."

Her uncle looked taken aback, but nonetheless hugged his niece. After about a minute or so, Antonio broke the bittersweet moment with the sound of him clearing his throat.

"Emilia, we're leaving this Friday. That should give you enough time to say goodbye and get your stuff sorted out. I've got to get going, I have some matters to take care of."

Antonio hugged her goodbye and exited the tiny living quarters that was attached to the bakery. As if on cue, Emilia's aunt bolted up from her position on the table and evoked a shrill shriek in vexation.

"I cannot believe you gave up our niece- your sister's daughter for three hundred and fifty dollars! Just like that! To a man we hardly know! He could be sick in the head for all we know, and you agreed to let her live with him!"

She wrung her hands, crying out a string of hysterical curses, before Emilia silenced her by slapping her palm on the table to draw her attention.

"This is a good thing. I know Antonio would never do anything like that. He's kind. And if he were crazy, wouldn't you think he would have done something by now?"

Her aunt turned her attention to her and stared blankly, almost as if in a trance.

"This is a win-win," she continued, as if talking to no one in particular, "I get proper schooling, and you get money to support yourselves, and besides, it's one less mouth to feed!"

"I thought you were better than that," the distraught woman turned to her quiet husband, "You've always been too proud to beg. But some rich guy shows up and offers you a bit of money and you suddenly throw all morals out the window."

She jumped away from him, startled, when he sent a heavy fist careering down onto the poor, rickety table.

"Dammit, look around you!" He gestured to the barren, cramped expanse of their living room, "We're living in a nightmare. We're losing more money than we're making. We can't support ourselves, not at the way things are playing out."

His face scrunched up, fighting back the urge to cry.

"I just can't anymore. I know, I would have never accepted money years ago, but this is just too much to bear. You're my wife- it's my duty as your husband to take care of you. Understand that!"

She looked stunned, and looked at her niece for any help, but was met with a cold gaze.

"He's right tia, he's only doing what's right."

Her aunt looked helpless, and sat down at the table to allow herself to think clearly.

"I feel like we should've discussed this further. I mean, we don't even know where he lives, what he does, who he's affiliated with. Just because he claims to have money doesn't mean this is the best decision for Emilia."

Her aunt pressed her index fingers to her temples and began to mumble inaudible jargon.

"I need all his information, I know you know it. You spend all your free time with him."

Emilia nodded and sat down next to her.

"Well, he's from Seville, you know, from Spain. And his dad owns an agricultural business. Apparently, he's taken in other kids and helped them with schooling and stuff. Oh, and he's engaged..."

As Emilia carried on, her aunt listened attentively and interrupted to ask questions, to which Emilia answered dutifully.

"You seem to know a lot about him." Her uncle interjected.

"How could she not? Look at how those two are always together."

Emilia felt her cheeks heat up; had it really been that obvious? She spent the rest of the night talking with them, ensuring them that her future was secure now.

Friday came, almost too soon. And Emilia felt that the air around her was slowly suffocating her; she was filled with anxiety and agitation. Clutching two small suitcases, she waited patiently for Antonio to pick her up and board their flight. She had asked him the day prior whether they were moving to Seville or not, but he chuckled and ruffled her hair.

"I told you I'm from Seville, I don't live there anymore."

He had explained that he had moved from Seville when his father began to engage in business in Latin America. He moved around a lot, living in almost every country in South and Central America.
"But now, now that I've experienced Mexico for what it is. I've bought a house in Mexico City. It's gated and it overlooks this big plaza, it's wonderful. Agatha plans on moving in with us after she completes her schooling. You'd get your own room and maybe I'll even get you a dog- oh, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's just get there first."

The flight took hours, Emilia never having been on a plane before, looked out the window every now and then, pressing herself against her seat when she saw how small everything was below her.

"We're not going to fall, are we?" She asked fearfully, clutching his hand almost too hard.

"Relax Emilia, we're not going to fall," He soothed, trying to stifle his laughter, "We're going to be there in a couple of hours. Just get some sleep or something."

He continued to hold her hand as she forced herself to take a nap, her head hanging to one side as she finally fell into a deep slumber. Antonio gently placed her head on his shoulder and moved the unruly locks of her hair away from her face. She certainly looked peaceful, and it finally gave him a chance to study her face. He wondered why she looked the way she did, physically different from her aunt and uncle. She lacked the straight, inky black hair they did, the only similarities were her thin, subtly hooked nose and cinnamon colored skin. Her hair poured over her shoulders in wayward curls of deep brunette and her facial structure was prominent; a square, yet feminine jaw blended with soft, red hued cheeks.

"Must be the father's genes." He mumbled, tearing his gaze away from her, a guilty blush creeping on his face for staring.

He let go of her hand and sighed, musing whether or not they'd be happy with the sudden transition. He turned to Emilia again, hoping she and Agatha would get along- the girl proved to be no trouble, but it was his fiance he was worried about. He figured she shouldn't feel threatened, his love for her was unconditional and infinite- at least he hoped it would be. He hadn't seen her in months, and wondered what she was doing in Belgium, she'd seldom write to him. As his contemplations delved deeper into their relationship, his thought process was interrupted by the soft snoring coming from Emilia. He couldn't stifle his laughter anymore, he broke into a loud guffaw, his shoulders shaking heartily, waking her in the process.

"Are we here?" She evoked quickly, looking startled and bewildered as she looked around the plane frantically.

"No," He answered between laughs, "But I didn't know you snore."

"I do? Is it bad?"

"No."

"What do I sound like?"

"Like… like an adorable lawnmower."

He couldn't protect himself from the flustered retorts and flurry of fists that ensued afterwards.