The Blooming Zinnias

I never dreamed about a man like him- no, never in my whole life. I am a woman of class and dignity and he, an average person. People around me expect a lot from me, I am meant to dream and aim for something higher than me. That means I should marry a man of power and influence. Everything changed when he came into my life.

One day, my father came with that man to assist him on his business matters. The first thing I noticed about him is his meekness. Father introduced him, "This is Emil de los Santos, he will help me on some matters and he will stay with us for a month." "Good morning," he greeted me with his eyes turned down, looking at the floor, a slight smile on his face and his head bending down slightly. His gentle- no, feminine-like features accentuated his personality. He has an olive complexion that must be bathed by sunlight. His bobbed hair is raven black silk with fringes veiling his face which still falls down even though he tucks it back behind his ears. He is slightly taller than me, he has a bony and slender body, his stature exudes confidence. Why would I fall for a man like him? How can he protect women when he looks too frail?

The cook prepared a merienda to welcome our guest. I watch his slender hands and tapered fingers dance on the table as he eats. "Paz, is there something on your mind?" I'm glad father brought me back to my senses. "Ah, nothing!" I smiled awkwardly in front of my father and the guest. His gentle and beautiful eyes were staring at my awkward face, I fixed my composure and continued on eating. He turned to the man, "My daughter is very good in arts and music, she does works for her patrons and now she starts mentoring young children." The man raised his eyebrows and leaned forward to my father. "There are times I mistake her for a ghost playing piano during nighttime." My father laughed and the man followed next. He really had time to make fun of me in front of a stranger.

I felt uncomfortable for the rest of the day now that I needed to serve and impress the guest we had received. I am careful to be modest everytime we interact with each other. At nighttime, I kept thinking about him and at the same time, denying my feelings for him. I can't sleep, maybe playing the piano will help me. I went to the sala and turned on the lights. I sat in front of the instrument and lifted the fallboard. I taught one of my students Pathetique sonata and I forgot to return the piece inside the cabinet. I went on a slow start in playing the second movement and a few minutes later, I got immersed with the music. My longing to love and to be loved by someone fueled my emotions while playing the piece. Later, I heard a slow creaking of the door, I jumped from my seat with that sound surprising me.

The man stood behind the wide gap and whispered, "Sorry." He then came out and apologized again, "I'm so sorry for interrupting you..." "Are you trying to see if there's an actual ghost playing right now?" I asked while smiling jokingly at him. He chuckled, "Ah no, I want to hear what you were playing. I think I made you lose your focus." "No worries, I will continue." I continued to play the piece with him listening to the music resounding in the room. After playing the last chord, he applauded. "Wow, it brings me back to my youth." I became curious. "By how?" He laughed. "It made me remember when times were simpler."

"When there is a celebration within our barrio, there is always music and dancing. The girls would ask me to dance with them." We talked more about our youth, we were amazed by our experiences and we laughed at some of our embarrassing moments. I realized that he enjoyed his life more than I was. Here, women were taught to act prim and proper so I became too shy to approach and talk to people. I focused more on studying and creating arts to express myself. After our long talk, I started to feel drowsy and I yawned. "It's already too late, let's talk again tomorrow." He nodded and we bid each other good night. I kept everything back to its original place and went to sleep soundly.

We spent our morning doing our jobs, I, teaching my students and him, assisting my father. In the afternoon, we talk and learn more about each other in our garden while watching the zinnia flowers swaying back and forth by the wind. We had merienda together, I taught him how to paint and play the piano, he was patient and enjoyed what we were doing. He taught me the dance from their barrio. While we were dancing, he was careful not to hurt me and his strong arms were able to lead and support a young woman like me. We also attended some gatherings and traveled together with my father. He was courteous with me and my father the whole time. I judged him wrong. Despite looking like a frail person, he showed me that he is also a strong man. What bothered me was that father seemed like he was never angry with him and our interactions and it made me question the "matters" they were talking about.

One day, I went to my father and confronted him. My voice starts to become shaky as I ask him, "Father, may I ask you about something?" "Sure, my dear daughter." I gathered all my courage and took a deep breath. "What 'matters' does you and Emil are working on? Were you not angry everytime he talks to me?" My father also took a deep breath. "It's not easy to tell you about this, Paz..." He paused. "It's true that it is about the business. He is an accountant and I hired him, but the other one... time will come you will realize it..." I gasped, my father was not direct about some things, he was afraid he might hurt my feelings. I started to look for Emil and when I saw him in the garden, he was playing the crossword puzzle on the newspaper. He looked up to me, raised his eyebrow and mouthed, "What?" I shook my head.. He laughed, with his eyes turning cheerful. My heart skipped a beat and I blushed out of embarrassment. I hurriedly went back to the house. He spent the rest of his days writing in his journal.

In the last week of Emil's stay, we were in our garden with the flowers starting to fall and wither, talking about something more serious and personal. "Mr. Alcantara once told me he reminded me of his youth." "How?" I asked. "Maybe he saw something in me that he can relate to..." He narrated his life here in Manila on how he competed with other people just to help his family. After a while, he looked straight into my eyes, "You are free to do anything, Paz. He told me he wants you to become happy, maybe it's time to let go of the expectations you placed on yourself?" He gave a comforting smile and started to gaze at the sky. I pondered, maybe I worked myself too hard, that I wanted to please my father by being perfect. I always thought that I should become beautiful, smart, talented, anything that people love. I thought I am meant to marry a perfect man like Iñigo, another upperclassman, who recently came from Europe. "After I leave, let's exchange letters shall we?" I agreed, "I am looking forward to it." He chuckled, "I will send letters at least once a month."

A month after he left, I received a letter from him. Emil described his day and the places he went to. As months passed by, his letters started to become more and more romantic, he started to write poems and beautiful imagery in his letters and recounted our memories together. "You reminded me of the zinnia flowers blooming in the garden. Now I long to see you and to listen to your voice after I have left. I am hoping to see you again soon." I went to our garden, where the zinnia buds were waiting to bloom again. "Looking forward to see him soon?" Father suddenly appeared behind me which made my heart jump for a second. "I do, father," I answered. The leaves and branches sing around as the wind leads them to dance.