Their Tale

Bare

"Miss Evita, we are here." Harold's announcement shakes me back into place. Looking out the window, I see that I have reached the house. The large navy and white mid-century modern home, brought a feeling of new life and a fresh start. Celeste would get her studio at the back in the large outhouse, we would find a place for Angel's grand piano, and I would have a chance to design my new studio. There was also a good tease on the planning of the new playroom.

This would be our home, not just a house but a place to call ours in heart and soul. Thanking Harold, I step out of the car and notice that Celeste reached the house before me. This was evident by her Audi in front of the garage beside another, probably the realtor. Buying that car was extremely exciting for her. Knowing that she had earned every penny from her art gave her this rise of accomplishment. I can still remember when she told us during dinner.

I understood why she was so excited. Angel had naturally provided so much for her that this one thing. It was the physical proof of her blood, sweat, and tears. Her trophy.

Making sure my free grey dress doesn't snag on my heel, I lift it slightly and walk to the door, a gentle knock to announce myself. When I get silence, I decided to push the open door and step into the house. The air felt new. Lit bright by the large open windows behind the stairs. Grey tiles and white paint brought the sophisticated potential of the house alive.

Soft talking catches my attention, making me follow the sound, "Hello, Celeste?" I call out. The open space echoes my words when I hear her calling me from the left side of the house. Following the sound, that leads past a dining room and goes to the kitchen. Pure white granite and black cabinets with silver appliances bless the kitchen. The large island in the centre of the space gives more space and design. No wonder she found herself in her.

When I step into the room, I go to her. A smile on my face from the one she carried as well. Holding both my hands, she looks at me, taking a last visual tour of the kitchen, "This could be home, Evita. Our home." Still stunned, I nod frantically, bringing her in. Knowing that for her, the home was something she wanted with her soul burned a fire, I would scorch the earth to protect her.

Nothing could replace her home with Ma Esi, but here. We could build a new one.

"First homes are always emotional." Letting Celeste go I looked behind her and see a woman. She could be in her early thirties, but something told me she was older. The way she carries herself has wisdom and warning. She looks absolutely beautiful, with light caramel skin, and a head of thick dark brown hair littered thickly with grey strands. She ages well, though something feels familiar about her, "It is, I'm Evita and you are?" I ask, walking to her, a handshake given in greeting.

Smiling at me, she gives a firm handshake, but I don't miss the evaluation her eyes make of me. I had been looked at with a spectrum of reasons, from shame, pity, lust, nothing at all. She was trying to figure out where to place me.

"I am Marisol Nader; my husband and I will be consulting the renovations and constructions on the home." I remember that the realtor spoke to us about bringing in people for the large-scale renovations, "It's a pleasure to meet you." Just as I finish greeting, a man, maybe ten years older than her, walks in from the back of the kitchen.

I am hit with this uneasy feeling that I have seen them before. His large frame is dressed in an ink-black suit, hair cut in a clean yet modern fade. I know I have never met him. He can easily be described and felt as serious in attitude and personality.

Keeping with the same greeting, I give him a handshake, one that he seems too reluctant to accept, "Samir Nader, I am sure my wife has introduced us."

His tone is dark and authoritative, an accent I am unsure of lingers in them both. Maybe that's why I feel like I know them, a familiarisation of a culture or ethnicity, "I am Evita Alonso, a pleasure to meet you." Giving no further response. Marisol brings her hands together, a smile showing the nerves she tried masking, "I'm sure this is all really exciting, so let's begin."