Memories of a Life That Never Happened

Chapter 48 - An Auspicious Alliance

Relief was the first thing Mica felt as she saw Alan entering La Bodeguita. The second was an unshakable fear that she would never see Theo again.  

She grabbed the tray with his usual request. That morning in particular, it had been seating on the balcony since 9 am. She had prepared it herself and added a little vase with a big red daisy.  

"Thanks for coming," she said and noticed how Theo's cheery friend suddenly seemed to be short on smiles.  

"I owe you one for that night at the movies." 

With a nod, Mica started emptying the tray.  

"Do you mind?" She gestured to the empty chair. 

"It's your restaurant." 

Alan's cold tone was hurtful, but expected. 

"He won't talk to me."  

"Can you blame him?" 

"I can, actually. Not a week ago, someone came to me with rumors about Theo. It made me really upset, especially because I had not heard from him in a few days." 

"After the night we fought Nick and Leo for your sake? His mom wouldn't let any of us out of her sight." 

"I know that now, but I didn't know it then. Anyhow, the point is I had all the reasons to go ahead and put a stop to all this. You'll all be gone in a month. I'm stuck here for life. I didn't have to be feeling like crap right now." 

Mica crossed her arms, let out a long breath. 

"All I'm saying is that when he asked to talk to me, I listened. I wish he'd do the same, that's all. I can explain what happened if he'll let me."  

Alan pushed away the basket of cheese breads, as if succumbing to them meant colluding with the enemy.  

"What about your other boyfriend?" 

"I'd already told Theo." Annoyed, Mica raked her fingers through her hair. "Abel and I are friends. Yes, if it were up to him, we'd be more than that, but it's not."  

"Did you kiss him?"  

"What Nick saw was Abel kissing me. Not the other way around." 

Out of habit, Alan poured himself a glass of orange juice. 

"So, what is it that you want from me?" he asked and took a sip. "Get Theo to talk to you?" 

"No." 

Alan frowned. 

"Well kind of." Mica bent forward and crossed her arms over the table. "Tomorrow's my birthday. I'd like you, I mean... you both to come." 

Alan's laughter was short and skeptical.  

"I'm his friend, not a miracle worker," he said leaning against the chair.  

Mica reached out to his hand across the table. 

"Please, Alan. I've helped you that night because I saw past what you did. I knew it was unintended. Won't you do that for me? If anyone can convince him, it's you." 

Alan put down the empty glass but steered away from the cheese breads. He plucked a wallet from his cargo shorts' lower pocket. 

"How much do I owe you?" 

"It's on the house," Mica said as she got up. "Will you talk to him?" 

"I'll see what I can do," Alan promised and then left the restaurant. 

Ten minutes to the end of her shift, Mica scurried out the backdoor. There was this sensation haunting her that maybe Alan's persuasion efforts needed a boost. After all, Theo was his best friend and she worried that Alan would not try too hard to convince him. 

Mica signaled the bus going uphill, where the views were better and the houses greater. When she got there, Mica crossed a front yard fit for a castle and walked up to the doorstep of a mansion no king would disapprove. Its heavy French doors alone were over eight feet tall, each adorned with fancy brass knockers.  

Mica rapped three times and waited. Nothing. She knocked again, putting a bit more energy into it this time. After a while, Mica pressed an ear to the door. She heard no footfalls getting closer, no voice or sign that someone was coming to answer the door. There was, however, the melody of a piano in the distance.  

Torn between apprehension and determination, Mica contoured the house, following the sound. Window after window, she walked past several luxurious rooms. Many were even fancier than those in Theo's home.  

She stopped at the bay window of what she figured was a music room. Jean-Pierre looked very concentrated and a bit melancholic. Upon spotting her, though, his expression softened and his hands went still. 

Joana, who was lounged on the sofa, craned her head and followed Jean-Pierre's gaze toward Mica. She stood up briskly and walked to the window, opening it. 

"What are you doing there and how did you get here?" 

"By bus. I'm sorry." Mica forced out a smile. "I knocked but no one answered." 

"Of course not. We never have visitors, so I gave the butler a day off."  

Jean-Pierre joined them at the window.  

"Hello," he said with an awkward and yet adorable accent.  

Joana was less amicable.  

"Don't you know you're supposed to call before paying someone a visit?" 

"I'm sorry I didn't know. And I don't have your number anyways." 

"True enough," Joana conceded and Jean-Pierre whispered something in her ear. "Oui, bien sûr1," she replied to him and turned to Mica. "Would you like to come in?"  

"Thanks." 

For the first time, perched on a comfortable blue-silk settee, Mica was the one being served instead of the one serving.  

On the table, a pitcher of iced tea and delicate biscuits were at her disposal. Although anxiety left no room for hunger inside of her, she reckoned it would be rude not to nibble. Mica reached for the sweating glass and placed a couple paper napkins around it to absorb the dew.  

"I'm so glad you're home." Mica stared at Joana as she sipped her tea. 

"Yes, yes. And what brings you here?" 

At this point, Virginie entered the room. Recognizing Mica, she hurried to give the other girl an earnest hug. 

"She does," Mica replied to Joana as soon as the embrace slacked a little. "I'm here to ask Virginie a favor." 

1 Yes, of course. 

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