The Red Rose

Chapter XI

After sleeping once again during the night, the next morning I started making my way back to the bus stop, where I was supposed to meet up again with Juanpi and Sebastian. With compass in hand and one of the radios, I began trying to call Juanpi, while keeping an eye on my smartphone with no signal. After several attempts, I managed to contact Sebastian through the radio signal:

"Good morning, Miguelito! Mission accomplished?"

"Mission accomplished, my friend! I think I'm already close to the meeting point, and I'm out of water. Do you think you'll arrive on time?" I asked, a little worried.

"We're still in town, but we're on our way. Let me know when you have signal with your smartphone, so I can send you the address of an inn that's close to where Juanpi and you agreed to meet, okay?" he suggested.

"Got it, got it, I think I'm already close to the bus station. See you!" I said.

"Over and out, buddy!" Sebastian finished.

Almost reaching the bus station, which was nothing more than a metal bench with a sign and a roof for shade, the phone signal finally returned, and I sent my coordinates to Sebastian.

Both the bench and the structure it was in seemed to be rusty, and I could see an old lady waiting for the bus. She carried a light suitcase and seemed very calm, despite the heat in the place. I sat down next to her and she looked me up and down, then focused on the rose I had in the pocket on my chest.

"That rose smells very good, son! Is it for your beloved?" she asked.

"Um, no. Actually, I found it in the desert and thought to keep it, then put it as a decoration somewhere," I replied.

The old lady wore a straw hat and a colorful dress with many flowers, and I immediately felt a kind of warmth beside her, very similar to what I felt with my mother. I also noticed that the lady's accent was different from mine.

"Son, you don't seem to be from around here. Are you a tourist by any chance?" she asked with her warm voice.

"Um... No, I'm Chilean, well, my mother is from another country," I replied.

"Ah, I see, my child. And what brings you to these places?" she asked again.

I thought for a moment and answered, "It's the first time I see the desert, I wanted to take a vacation around here. Where are you from, if I may ask? Your accent sounds different too."

The old lady turned around and I could see her features better. Her hair was white and long like snow, and her skin was bronzed. She wore overalls, and her nose was aquiline. Her smile was radiant and warm, I couldn't help but return it when she smiled at me, but what caught my attention the most was that her slanted eyes had a beautiful amethyst gleam, as strong as the neon blue I possessed.

"What beautiful eyes you have, son! They must surely be from your mother! Oh yes, I'm Peruvian. Have you ever heard of Machu Picchu? It's a very beautiful place. I live in Cuzco, there I have a large garden. I love plants and flowers. Life is something wonderful, you know? There's no place on this planet where life doesn't find its niche, from the depths of the sea to the most inhospitable places, like this desert."

She took a pause, and I noticed she had a small lily flower adorned in her hair. The lady looked back at the rose and continued:

"The rose, a symbol of both love and grief. I love the duality of this beautiful flower. Do you know that very healthy brews can be made with roses? And it can also cure horrible curses! Look, I have a little vial here where you can put your rose, you add some water and it won't wither."

"Oh, thank you!" I said, and we both arranged the rose inside the vial, while she added some fresh water.

Finally, a sort of minibus arrives, the old lady shakes my hand and says: