The Miracle by Ben Crisp and Rosalinda Flores
As the days had been stressful, good times were numbered. Friends popped and disappeared. When people smelled you could not give enough, they stayed away. If they could not get anything from you or suck anything from you, merry days would be over; you would be out of the circle. See I’m out? They smelled they couldn’t get much from me.
“Good morning, Miss!”
Where is he?
“Please see him in the living room.”
He was sitting in his wheel chair. He was reading the newspaper and a glass of water was on the table. Postcards were scattered, a record book, and medals of his faith. He was supposed to be a cleric, but due to weak health, he didn’t get it through. Instead, he ventured on a business that earned him a fortune.
I always borrowed from this man, and he was the only one who didn’t tax me. As people could see outside, he lived in luxury – but his heart, it was benevolent to any creature who would seek his help. The only thing that he asked from me was to help him on his records and choose medals for him, which I really liked. He collected stones, as well; precious and non precious; even diamonds.
“What’s the problem?”
It is the same as yesterday.
“The love affairs...”
Yes. And he will be back for me soon.
“Could you be happy...”
Yes, you know I love him so much. I danced in front of him.
“You are must be mad.”
Yes, I am. I thought we could be married.
“Next time he would sell you for a gold coin.”
We sorted out the medals. Some were very, very old. Some were new. Some were uniquely precious and of great value. In a while, he got something inside his fist and told me.
“Close your eyes. Give me your hands.”
Nah, you will play up on me.
“I’m serious now. I have something for you to drive evil spirits away.” He teased me.
You and your fart! I laughed out loud. My sad laughter filled the quiet room.
“I said open your hands!”
Okay, Sir, here it is.
I closed my eyes and slowly he dropped the object in my hand. “Magic, here!” My palms were excited and cold, just like when one student told me to open my hands across snowy Japan, then surprised me with a Sakura. She told me, she liked me a lot, offering me the national flower of her country. And now, was another guessing moment.
Is it another precious gem?
“Hold it carefully and see for yourself.”
That time was special. I could see his face full of compassion for someone weary. I felt it was an act of consolation to blow zeal to my broken spirit. It was as though a magic clock made me a princess or sent me somewhere in time like, Alice in Wonderland. What I held in my hands was dear to my heart, and the feeling was all of a child so loved dearly: free and happy. It was a gold heart locket; an old one, embed with red tiny rubies. Inside was a picture of the Madonna. He knew I liked the Madonna. My throat tightened and my eyes blurred with clouds of water. And then, his hands came gentle on my cheeks. He smiled and hugged me, tight.
I was certain I would get a chain for this. My ringing phone intruded. He told me, “Go now.”
“Why do you want me to leave? Am I disturbing your holy hours?”
“No, you need to go and find what will make you happy. And that boyfriend? Stay away from him. Do you think he’ll marry you for real? He has got a wife.”
Before I left his house, he’d always tell me the same reminders. That was what I evaded. I couldn’t let any one, not even my family or closest friends mock my boyfriend. It was time to leave again.
“Thank you for the Madonna.”
I hurriedly kissed him and went out of the house. I didn’t look into my phone to check, nor answer it. My boy friend was always exciting, as there might be something confidential – not business, not updates, but the tweets and yearnings of him.
Outside, when the gate was closed, I dialled his number. I was right he was the one who called. Was he meeting me? I waited. He wasn’t answering the phone. I tried calling him again, but still, there was no answer. I texted, “Pls answer your phone now. I miss you so much.” As I walked the empty street, the air glistened to me. I was reminded, of my separation with him, my incompleteness, and that I was only, waiting for crumbs.
As I looked the next post, I saw that same white guy, walking and holding something that was mine. Was it my scarf?