Have you ever seen the Moon without her Star (Unedited)

Chapter 1

My mamá said when I was born the sky was so dark and empty it was like the sea at night. Black flooded the sky and the only thing visible was the crescent moons light. "mi amor, mi querida niña...Luna."

Her darling moon, Moon Calderón, the light of her mothers life.

Moons earliest memory of her mother was when she was at the docile age of four. She had just been brought home by her nanny Lottie, a tender and stumpy silver haired woman with sardine breath and aberrantly ginormous cankles.

She ran into her mothers arms and squeezed her as tight as her miniature young arms could. Moons absolute favorite thing about her mother was her intoxicating scent, it left a feeling of comfort and familiarity that wrapped her tight. It always had a way of leaving her feeling...safe. She always smelled like spice vanilla and Almería bakeries. "¿Como estuvo la escuela mi luna?" She whispered, softly like a breeze into moons ears. "mamá aburrida" she squeezed eyes and sighed. Although an independent and intelligent child, Moon was also a desperate and attached child with her mother.

Her mother Amélie was a strong willed, beautiful and nauseating woman.

She was born to a Spanish mother and French father in a small place named Istán South of Spain. Her father left her young, swearing to never be bewitched by a Spanish whore ever again. Last time Amélie saw her papa was when he promised her to come back for her in a post card from France. Told her about the wonderful walks they would take in morning to get jam with cheese and bread, and walk her to school holding hands listening to the bells of the cathedral clang. She packed her bags and woke up at 5 a.m. every morning waiting to see the the dark green 1981 Lincoln town car pull out front to take her away from her abhorrent and futile mamá.

That post card was the last she would ever hear from her papa, she soon realized . Not long after máma forbade her from ever speaking about that "inútil pedazo de mierda de cerdo" in the house ever again.

When she was sixteen Amélie packed her bags and ran away to America with the love of her life. Donavan A blonde, white smile American stud. They met at a school trip with her all girls Catholic school to Madrid. Donavan was eighteen and wanted to explore before going away to his prestigious university as a legacy, his fathers "alma mater".

When he first saw Amélie she was on the bench in front of a helado cart, her dirty scuffed hand me down Adidas scraping on the cement beneath her. He was hypnotized by her, in the way many men were with the women of her blood line. But she swore to never marry a useless cerda like her foolish mother and grandmother. "Marrying for love" she snorted "So I can end up eating Patatas a lo pobre for the rest of my life?"

"You're making the scuffs worse." He smiled at her with that charming American grin that can knock a girl off her feet in any second. But Amélie wasn't like other girls, she was firm. She was smart.

"Scuff what? They're barely shoes at this point" she said boldly not even sparing him one glance up. "Shoes are the most important item to a person, letting your balls swing out is a crime but no shoes? That's torture, imagine the damage? Everyone hates ugly feet." He sat next to her and joined her in the staring contest with her broken down Adidas.

"Look mister if you have a foot fetish or something I'm not your girl, I know how depraved you low life Americans are" She snapped. When she raised her head, her breath got caught in her throat. He sparkled another one of those signature flashy grins of his "Tell me more about how disgusting and immoral we are" he laughed. One of the most beautiful laughs she'd ever heard, like those hearty and adored American superheroes from the films she watched on her cousins cheap box TV's.

When she looked at him she saw her future, she saw the beauty of their life and her escape from her calamity of a life. Most importantly the key to getting away from the miserable and impoverished future with máma.

Two weeks later Amélie declared her love for Donavan, hand in hand in front of her máma in their broken down disgustingly rurikon blue kitchen. "Máma I love him, I will be taken care of and get a passport to America." She pleaded with desperation. Her mother did not look at her even once, continuing to peel the potatoes for dinner that night. When Amélie left through the door, she left nothing behind but her 1984 "Like a virgin" Madonna poster in her room and the singular tear that erupted from her mámas left eye and her broken heart.

When Amélie first got to America she was enthralled by the conspicuous lifestyles and culture of Americans, and...how fat they were. She tried calling her máma for two weeks straight after they had gotten to their destination. She then resorted to cheesy tourist post cards and letters "Do you think she will hate me forever?" She weeped into Donovan's arms pathetically. That's what she thought of herself, pathetic. A soon to be married woman to a wealthy American bachelor and legacy child not to mention, wailing like a bebé with colic for her máma.

Sure her máma was a harsh tongued, abusive, and at times an inconsiderate wench, who hated Amélie because she resembled her disgusting and weak minded pig of a papa. But she was the only person she had in this world, the only person who had even a drop of love for her, her protector and provider. But she quickly realized that was untrue. She had her protecter, provider and her lover. The one that saved her, the American hero, her Donavan. He bent down and whispered sweetly into her ear "I'm here my love, you are my everything and I will be yours. Anything you desire I will crawl and break to give you. I will protect you, I will love you until the day comes were we can no longer see the moon or stars and after that I will use my bare hands to carve them for you. My breath is for you, my pain is for you, My sight is for you. When the day comes and I am put deep in the ground I will rot for you, but until then Amélie my life will be lived for you."