Dear Maria (on hold)

Part 18

 Maria and I had taken the red eye back home after her mother's funeral. I didn't think that the funeral was something I would ever be able to forget. All of Maria's extended family had been there, over a hundred people all dressed in black. Mr. de Kali had ignored Maria and I ever since I had confronted him and he had caused Maria to cry, but apart from him, almost everyone else came up to Maria to offer their condolences. Consequently, I had met just about everyone in Maria's extended family, because I had left her side only once, when she had approached the casket to say her goodbyes.

Maria had been silent the entire flight from Boston back to California; she also never once let go of my hand. Now, we were standing in front of the carousel in Baggage Claim, waiting for Maria's suitcase, which had been too large to check. Noise filled the enormous hall, people's frantic voices, cellphones ringing, the whirring of the carousel, the click-clacking of shoes upon the polished concrete floor. Still wearing our black dresses which we had worn to the funeral, Maria and I stood out in the throng of travelers.

My left arm was wrapped around Maria's waist, while I scanned the winding loop of the black and silver carousel for her bag. It finally appeared, slowly emerging from the black rubber flaps that marked the entrance from whatever was behind the baggage. Her big black bag with a red ribbon tied to the handle was hidden once again as it made it's way around a curve in the carousel's track, and I prepared myself to quickly grab it when it approached where Maria and I stood, not wanting to let go of Maria until I absolutely had to. But just as her bag neared us, I felt Maria start shaking, coming out of her coma-like state at last. She hadn't cried since the day I'd arrived at her dad's house, hadn't shed a single tear at her mom's funeral. I glanced between her and her bag, which was almost upon me now. Her eyes were red, and tears rolled down her cheeks. I couldn't stand seeing Maria in so much pain, it tormented me.

I made a wild grab for her suitcase, needing both hands to haul it off the carousel, and it landed on the ground with a thud and a clatter. I turned immediately to Maria, aware, but not caring, that we were attracting stares, and that passers by were actually stopping to look at us. I cupped Maria's face in my hands, forcing her to look directly into my eyes for a moment, before I wrapped my arms around her warm body that still shuddered with sobs. I held her tightly, wishing desperately that I could just take the pain out of her beautiful eyes and stop those tears, those sobs, the shaking, which chipped away at my heart until there was nothing left but love for Maria and an infinite desire to make her smile and laugh and love me.

“Maria honey, it's all over now, it's over,” I told her softly, my voice low and comforting.

I stroked her messy curls and rubbed her back as soothingly as I could, and slowly, she stopped shaking, stopped crying. Her arms were wrapped tightly around my waist, her hands pressed into the small of my back, her face hidden in my shoulder, unwilling to release me. I embraced her for another minute or two, but we really were causing something of a commotion, not to mention that we were also beginning to block traffic. I pulled back, my hands on her waist as I gazed into her eyes to gauge her emotions, smiling sympathetically. Then I took her hand in mine and led her over to a table, somehow managing to drag both my carry-on and her suitcase along with us.

I parked our bags by where Maria sat, and after checking that Maria truly was feeling a little better, went to go order two coffees at the Starbucks that just happened to be right by the Baggage Claim. As I ordered to medium mochas with whipped cream, I couldn't help but remember our first morning together, when I had awoken on my living room floor to see Maria standing in the doorway, a vision of loveliness, holding two coffees, the same, in fact, as the ones I now ordered for us. I smiled, thinking back on that time before I knew Maria as well as I did now, and marveled at how much I had loved her, even then. I dusted our twin coffees with coco powder, then returned to Maria, handing her her mocha.

“Thanks,” she said softly, her voice a little hoarse.

“Of course,” I replied, settling down next to her, and we both took a sip of our coffees, careful not to burn our tongues too badly. We sat in silence, sipping our coffee, her left leg resting against my right, and took a deep breath and a step back after everything that had transpired since Maria's had received that phone call from her step-sister almost a week ago.

The car rolled to a stop on the curb between Maria's house and mine, and I pulled the key out of the ignition. We both stepped out of my car, and made our way around the side of the car to the trunk, which I opened. Maria hauled her suitcase out of the trunk with little difficulty, and I pulled my bag out after her, slamming the trunk closed securely. I followed Maria up the path to her house, waiting as she fumbled for her keys and unlocked the door. Stepping in behind her, I turned around to close the door. We left our bags by the front door, and continued into her house.

Unsure of what to do with ourselves, the silence beginning to get a bit uncomfortable, Maria switched on the radio, just as they announced the next song.

“Close to You, by Jonathan Clay.” The song started to play, and as Maria turned away from the radio, I took her hand in mine, and pulled her in. We danced in her living, revolving slowly, our bodies about as close as they could be. And when he song ended, Maria looked at me for a moment, her eyes warm and relaxed for the first time in days. With one hand on my shoulder and the other cupping my jaw lovingly, she leaned in the last few inches and kissed me. It was a long kiss, slow at first, but building. As always, Maria left me breathless.