When Bluebirds Fly | ✔

Part Four : Chapter Five

It all happened so fast, I entered the wedding with a somewhat cool façade, my initial calmness diminishing with every step I took. Fortunately, I still managed to maintain my composure as I met my mum who was dressed elegantly (much to my chagrin) in a mermaid wedding gown.  We talked in those high-pitched, saccharine tones, a tone one would adopt to conceal the inward malice. Then she had dropped the news of her pregnancy and had grabbed my hand and pressed it against her belly. I instinctively withdrew my hand like I had touched fire.

She ignored my lack of warmth, gushing about my "younger brother or sister" while her each word just filled me with rising venom. I wished to sting her like a poisonous creature with my words, some snide remark, but by the time I could think of anything clever, Dave had appeared. He was dressed smartly in a suit and it took all my remaining efforts to not imagine him naked as I had first seen him. His long naked figure in Isaac's house's spare room, smirking when I had accidentally caught him while my mum was also naked inside and called him a 'darling.' She had never called my dad that.

Dave smirked at me again and that was when I excused myself, cursing mentally at him, his wife and their baby.

"Papá," I said in the phone, hiding behind an artificial, decorative tree. "Can you hear me?"

"Sí, sí, Mariana," he replied, his breathing was heavy as if it was a tiresome chore to live.

"It's horrible here. I should have brought Sam or Ally or---"

"Where? Where are you?"

"At the wedding. Where else could I be." I laughed nervously, expecting a reprimand or another one of his long, dramatic sighs which conveyed dismay sufficient for a lifetime. "She's pregnant."

There was a prolonged silence which made me question whether I should have supplied him with this bit of information, but then he said, "That's good."

"That poor baby has signed up for some serious nightmarish parenting."

My father laughed, a sound so strange that I clung to it, wanting to get better acquainted with it. "Eat something there or get something from outside to eat. And go home soon, your abuela will get worried."

"Yeah I will, don't worry---" I paused, choosing my words carefully then abandoning the false task. "I miss you, papá. Come this weekend, okay? You told me that you will, but never did."

I never asked before either, I'm sorry.

"Ah, mija . . . There's so much work so I couldn't, but I'll come now," his voice was more cheerful, positive, hopeful. "Don't tell your abuela, she fusses a lot whenever she expects someone home."

"I have seen that all the time. She's so involved with the renovating thing, she has already planned this huge welcome party for Juan and Marta. Anyway, I'll tell you all about this when you come back," I said, realizing that I had been creepily hiding behind the tree for way too long. "Bye, see you on Saturday!"

I cut the call and sauntered towards the throng of people at the centre of the ground where the party took place. The music and lunch had commenced, some dancing with my mum and her husband while some were piling their plates with food. From a distance, my eyes magically landed on a familiar curly-headed figure who was clad in a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black trousers, standing alone with an empty plate.

He was inspecting the wide array of food dishes like a pernickety child, lost in his thoughts. He suddenly reminded me of the time when we were little and he would take ample amount of time to choose an ice cream flavour and by that time, I would finish mine then go on to snatch and eat half his ice-cream. That memory aroused a melancholy smile and stirred in me this desire to talk to him.

I felt the same throb of my heart beating in my ears as I sidled up to him. His long hands were placing some finger sandwiches on his plate, sending me reeling back to another memory. When we were little and after a long day of playing under the sun, we arrived at his home to find our mothers had prepared for us finger sandwiches and pies and lemonades. 

"You should go for the expensive cut of meats," I said, tilting my head towards the shiny meat section. He turned towards me, his lips slightly parted. I repeated, unsure if he had heard me, "I said that you should have gone for the expensive cut of meats. Got full worth out of this wedding."

He was flummoxed, I could see and understand his tumultuous emotions for mine were just the same. I thought it was the best to pretend that we were meeting for the first time instead of awkwardly apologising for rudely pushing him away the previous two times. Within minutes, he understood it too because he smiled which caused wrinkles like gentle ripples in water.

"I thought that I should start light," he played along, a mischievous glint in his pale-grey eyes. "Didn't you eat anything?"

"I feel sick here."

"Yeah, I could guess why." His gaze averted to my mother and Dave, chatting with his beautiful mother like old times.

"Anyway, I shouldn't meddle in your choices," I said, indicating at his plate which contained two pieces of finger sandwiches. "I'll go now, have fun."

"No-wait," he said quickly, a conflict evident in his eyes. "Do you want to get out of this place?" The sound of my throbbing heart had overwhelmed my senses and I managed to nod. This restored his confidence as his smile widened and his eyes lingered at the two finger sandwiches. Both of us picked one, popped it in our mouths, dumped the plate and smiling secretively, hurried outside the stifling, vast space into free, smaller confines of the streets where our conversations were woven with exhilarating free and vast ideas.

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A/N :

Part Four is over! Yes, it was the shortest part and as far as how Mariana can imagine her utopian world to be like. No Abel troubles, perfect friendships and relationships. How she would have wanted her actual summer to be like.

Many of the sentences and similes and metaphors were deliberately repeated from earlier parts in this part to create this sense of inter-connection and familiarity. So what comes next?

The epilogue, an official end to this story!