marked.

A Firm Grip

Rosie greeted us with warm, surprisingly strong arms. I'm not sure how she managed to hug both me and Marco, but she did it. Once she let go, Rosie's warm, bright chocolate eyes softened at the sight of us. Her smile turned into a pity smile with grief laced delicately and boldly into it. It went from showing full teeth to the simple together-ness of the lips. Behind her was the bustling of two toddlers running all over the place in their porch with the follow-up sound of chattering in the front entry-way of Rosalinda's home.

She shook her head. "Well, why don't you two kids come in? Have some cafe while I get that little someone special." The sympathize smile grew into a mischievous one. My eyebrow formed a high arch.

"Who?" I asked, highly curious as I stepped through the door with Marco by my side.

Instead of answering, Rosie took my wrist and yanked me into the kitchen. Of course, I wasn't going into this death trap alone so Marco came along with the human chain. He had to take an extra hop to make sure he didn't come crashing through. Poor Marco.

Once I caught myself and straightened my posture, I noticed who was in the desired area. His elbow was propped onto the marble counter as his other hand took delicate sips from the jumbo-sized coffee cup. At first, he refused to look up from the cup and the miniature stained glass window that stood bright and colorful just two feet away from him. My breath couldn't decide whether to quicken or slow itself down. Marco just stood next to me, fairly closely, just observing the man's every move. I knew that eventually someone needed to say something.

"Hey Emilio." I made a promise to myself to speak on vague terms until I see a reaction somewhere on his face. Just after I spoke, Emilio took one deeply long sip of coffee, as if it would be taken away from him. Well, sorry to disturb you OLD MAN, we were informed to come here to find NEWS, and you are the NEWS. Sorry to mess up your love affair with your coffee. I say with full sarcasm in my pile of thoughts.

He finally looked up. "Hola Daniella," he said looking at me. He then turned his attention to Marco, keeping a long stare between each other. "Marco."

Marco jerked his head forward but stood silent. I guess due to the fact of Rosie's endless foot tapping and the anxious crossing of her arms, she felt the need to butt in. "Aye, Diablo Emilio! Tell the kids the amazing news you have!" She yelped, practically taking a jump in her stance. I hid my smile away, but it felt like the whole room saw it.

Emilio coughed twice and rubbed his hands together, as if prepared to perform a speech. When I glanced up at him, there was something gleaming up at him. Although the little gleam it did not reach his face, it was definitely plastered in his dark chocolate eyes. "Since Quinn died..."

Absolute silence amongst the room. I felt the sudden need to run to a corner and crawl up in a ball, right there, right now.

He continued. "If no one claimed the store, it's fate would be total demolition from the inside-out and turned into something else. Someone needed to take ownership of the store, do you understand that? Someone needed to..."

Me and Marco were literally inches apart, and I could practically feel his anticipation. I felt like he was going to explode from the inside out. But when I looked up at his face, he remained completely calm.

"What is it? Spit it out." Marco said a little too harshly. Could I really tell what he was feeling? Was this just luck? Had we really become that close?

Emilio stopped in his tracks, almost shocked that Marco said anything at all. He placed his coffee down carefully and looked at both Marco and I now, only focusing on us. "I am going to run the store. I am. The new owner."

My hand jerked straight into Marco's wrist. I held his arm tightly, almost squeezing circulation. He stood still. Rosie did a mini-clap with a smile ear to ear. I noticed that her once stiff shoulders relaxed a little, as if a big weight kind of lifted from her. She no longer needed to stress over Quinn's store.

Emilio's once serious facial expression now became similar to a child's when he finally revealed his plans. He became a little squirmish, anticipating me and quiet Marco's reaction.

"So... What do you guys think?" He asked.

For some reason, I felt my insides soften. Truly, I'm genuinely happy that Quinn's store would be still-standing. But with the latest events, my emotions stay intact.

"That's great, Emilio. Really great." I tell him. Although I can't project my feelings towards him, I hope he knows that I really meant it.

Marco finally chimed in. "Good. I'm glad." His emotions were more out there, his more genuine because he smiled his pearl-white sharp teeth. "Just try not to burn it down, while you're at it," he joked. That sent laughs throughout the room and three extra cups of coffee.

We spent about another hour at Rosie's house. Talking, joking to Emilio about how clumsy he can be. Marco and Rosie were the ones to keep he conversation going, for I was just listening and sipping on delicious, strong cafe con leche.

Marco took the wheel again, leaving me completely useless. I just stared out the window. Just as my house was starting to become in view, Marco took the sharpest of turns onto a different street. I jumped because my right temple temporarily had a meet up with the glass. He kept going on six blocks down until he found a dead end. That dead end had an auto shop and a run-down small warehouse just beside it.

"Could you have been any gentle?" I contorted.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just wanted... Wanted to show you something." Marco felt hesitant about his plans, but I could see the inner desire to show me.

I looked over at Marco as his stare looked straight at the auto shop. His right hand squeezed the wheel with pressure. His jaw occasionally tightened itself as he sat there. Because of that, the big, gaudy graffiti on his neck became bigger and thicker. I think it said SURVIVED in bright reds and purples. It looked like something a family member of mine used to do in the streets of New York... Illegally.

"What's wrong?" I ask as I cross my legs. "Where are we?"

"Home."

"Home?" I look at him. I had never seen Marco so anxious or nervous. He had always kept his cool. But today, his nerves are high.

After several moments of sitting in my truck, he hopped out of the car and turned to open the door on the other side. Just as I came out, the hustle and bustle of metal being scraped against metal. There were what seemed like huge dogs barking in the background, and an occasional smash of something. Marco took my hand and walked me over to the opening of what he called "home." My mind, just for a second, didn't pay attention to where he was taking me. Marco hadn't held my hand in a while, and I was quite surprised. Before he walked me through the opening, he looked at my rose that looked as if it were blooming right off my hand. To be honest, it was quite gaudy, but I didn't care much about what people will think about it either.

"Think about your rose when you meet my family, okay?" He said looking straight into my eyes. In my perspective, I thought he was looking for something, as if he expected me to say something important. I returned the stare into the green nature that lay before me. To help him, I nodded. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I knew that Marco was quite hesitant. Sometimes I look at Marco as one of my drawings... Maybe a new painting. There was something he wasn't proud of when it came to family, but now he gained the courage to let me in... To see a piece of his canvas. As we make our way through broken cars and scattering pieces of metal, tools, and all types of car parts, Marco kept a firm grip on my hand. And I kept a firm grip on his.