I am no one, I'm nothing

Capitulo Doce

"Aldonza?" A voice hummed softly through the door, a light knock ticking its surface. "May I come in?"

Aldonza shifted at the noise, tired eyes shifting open through sticky, caked-on sleep as she slowly twisted out of Pedro's bare arms. He was still sleeping, his scruff-free face smooth without the worries of their new situation, of the struggles that accompanied everyday life, of her. With a consenting call, Padre Perez opened the door with steady hands, gentle eyes meeting the confused ones of the waking woman. "Ahh, buenas dias." He greeted in a cheerful whisper. "I hope I'm not intruding on anything." He stated simply, knowing yet nonjudgmental eyes surveying the young woman and her assumed lover, at his bare body, at hers covered with thin, cheap cloth.

"No, no." Aldonza told him hurriedly, with a good nature laugh that seemed foreign to her tongue. She peered out the window and sat up, examining the dawn that was just beginning to break over the horizon, enveloping its old friend in a reuniting embrace. "I guess it's time to start the day, hmm?" She asked, placing her hands on the mattress and slowly lifting, moving her recovering body with deliberate movements, calculated steps. She steadied herself against the wooden bureau and began to wash her face, glancing back at the Padre through the mirror as she politely asked, "And what is it that I can do to help?"

The Padre offered her a compassionate smile. "Bring yourself and your guest-" He motioned to Pedro's form, which was slowly rising with the steady pulse of deep sleep-"to breakfast at approximately 7AM."

Drying off her face with a plush towel, Aldonza turned to face him, her features rearranging to a look of confusion. "But what about breakfast?" She asked in an unusually high pitch. "Who's going to collect the eggs, fry the potatoes, butcher the chicken for supper? I am more than willing to help, Padre, I am growing stronger with every passing day."

"And we offer our lives to God as praise for this miracle." He responded, motioning to the heavens as he ambled towards her. "In our house, the guests will be treated as such. Breakfast, lunch-all of your meals are taken and will be taken care of. The children of God never go hungry, as they are always receiving the gift of life from their Father." He nodded to her with conclusive finality and turned to leave, his dark robes flowing softly behind him, like the whispered prayer of a child.

"Padre?" Aldonza stammered a little too loudly. She hurried towards him and caught his shoulder as his hand held onto the doorknob. "What can I-we-do to ever repay you? You-you saved our lives." She told him, shielding her eyes to the ground as she remembered the pain, the suffering, the near death experience that had forced them to leave, that was the sole reason they were here, that she was here, that she was alive.

A tiny grin formed on the old man's face, and he brought his own hand up to cover the young woman's that was resting on his shoulder. "Live your life for God." Padre Perez responded purely, the grin growing larger when her mocha eyes expanded with realization. "You were saved for a reason, young one. It is best to glorify your Father with your life, because it wasn't an accident that you defeated death, just like it wasn't an accident for Christ to rise from the dead, to defeat the odds." He gently turned, causing Aldonza's hand to float to her side as she stood rooted to the spot. "7 o'clock for breakfast."

Even as the door closed, Aldonza remained rooted to the spot, unable to deflect the current of thought that was flooding through her mind like harsh rays of revealing sun. The world continued to wake around her. The songs of rousing birds floated through the open window as sunlight inched through until it was streaming into the pale room, reflecting against Pedro's tan skin, his dark locks, his defined, tranquil muscles. Why had she been saved? It was a question that had haunted her ever since she had come to, realized that she had indeed been inches away from death, hanging with near fatality on its noose; she had been waiting for the blow, for the final tug where she would stop breathing and feel her soul crumple inside of her like tissue paper. She had been internally waiting for this moment for years, for when her breath would cease to flow, when she could taste the stale air that suddenly wasn't as nourishing, as helpful, as vital. Was there a reason she was still alive, or was it simply luck, simply a switch that had been switched fully to the on position rather than somewhere in the middle, somewhere in limbo or jeopardy? Was there a purpose to her life? And if there was, what could it possibly be?