Salvation

By Deena

I had received a cryptic message on my answering machine at the paper where I work. The sultry female voice simply said she had something of Ana's that she thought I might want to have. Could we meet at the small outdoor restaurant on the first floor of the building on Friday evening, she wanted to know. No number was left. No name was left. All that was left was her name - Ana.

It had been almost a year since I had held her in my arms for the last time. Had wept over her poor martyred body. Perhaps others might think her a murderer, but I knew that she had been a like maimed, cornered fox. When they raped her, brutalized her, she reacted in shock from then on. How I cursed the fact that I had been out of town! If only I hadn't accepted that assignment.. would she still be alive? I would never know. I did know that I would meet the voice on Friday.

The next two days passed in a blur. I had resigned from my previous position. The paper where I now worked was much smaller, and the pace was also slower. I could pick my assignments. If I didn't come in for a day or two, well that was okay also. It was almost like being a free-lance journalist. And I relished the freedom. There were days when all I could do was stare at her photo. And weep. On Friday, I left the office and went downstairs to El Camino Real restaurant. I took a window table and ordered a cup of coffee. I had no idea how long I would have to sit there waiting for this mystery woman to appear - or even if she would appear. I sipped the dark, bitter liquid slowly, waiting for my destiny to arrive.

"Yes. You are exactly like your picture!" That sexy as velvet voice exclaimed. "No wonder Ana was so happy."

I looked up into eyes as blue-green as the Mediterranean and a face as gamine as a fairy. A head of tousled auburn curls clung to her scalp and cascaded down to her slender neck. She was as petite as a china doll. And as different from Ana as night from day.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Senorita…?" I rose slightly from my seat politely. Brusquely, she motioned me to sit and plunked herself down in the chair opposite me. Gently, she laid her hand on mine and patted it.

"Of course, how were you to know…Here." Quickly she placed before me a small, somewhat creased photo. It was of Ana and myself and looked like it must have been taken at the engagement party of her fellow circus performers. We were dancing in the picture. Our eyes were closed and our faces were nestled against each other like twin doves. It stabbed me in the heart to see it. Almost afraid of it, my hand hovered above the colored piece of paper.

"Where did you get it?"

The smiling face of the fairy woman quivered for a moment.

"It was in her effects. The police finally released them to us. To her family." She gazed sadly into my eyes now. All animation wiped clean from that vibrant canvas. "Marco, please forgive me for not introducing myself properly. My name is Angela Martinez. I am Ana's cousin."

"Why did you seek me out? Why did you bring me that photo? Why have you disturbed my life?" I demanded.

She looked down at her hands, absentmindedly rubbing them together.

"It was my idea. The rest of the family wanted nothing to do with it. But I had to see you for myself. Look at the back of the picture."

Gingerly, I turned it over. In what I imagined was Ana's handwriting were the words, casually doodled - Senora Marco Vallez over and over again. I sat stunned. The grief I had held for a year threatened to spill over and run down my cheeks. Ana had loved me - more than I had even realized. I had told her I would go anywhere with her - even to Hell. But she had obviously been willing to go with me to a house with a garden and children. I pushed the picture away.

"I do not want it," I stated firmly. "Do with it as you wish." I pushed my chair back and delved into my pocket for some small bills, preparing to leave.

"No, Marco, please. Stay, please stay," Angela's dulcet voice urged me. "Ana and I were very close. Please can you tell me more about the two of you? I…I want to know that she had at least some happiness before….before." The words died in her throat. "Before those bastards brutalized her? Before she went crazy with pain? Before she slowly died, her life's blood flowing from her? You want to know about her happiness? We had one night together. One! I would have followed her anywhere. Anywhere! Happiness? Are you a voyeur?" I did stand up now. The chair fell to the floor behind me as I pounded my grief into her innocent heart, the words like a stake pinning her to her seat. My fists clenched, I stood there, glaring down at her. She was alive and my Ana was dead. I was alive and Ana was dead.

She surprised me then. Anyone else would have fled the scene, glad to be away from this crazy man that I had become. Slowly, Angela raised herself from her seat. As if not to frighten me, she moved quietly to me. Before I realized it, she had her slender arms wrapped around me. I tried to remove them, but she only held on tighter.

"Marco, Marco, don't run. Don't hide. In your own good time, you'll share with me." Her arms tightened even more and she began to sway with me, as a mother moves gently to lull the fears of her child. "Hush, hush. It will be all right. I promise."

I could feel my resistance to her concern crumble. My own arms drew her closer to my trembling body. I drew in a noisy breath. Gradually, my breathing eased.

"Let me take you to dinner."

I threw some money on the table and took her hand. Silently, we left the restaurant and went into the office parking lot. My car was now one of the few left. Abruptly, I realized that she might have her own vehicle.

"You are parked?"

"Nowhere. I took a taxi from the airport." She raised up a small leather bag, slightly larger than the handbags I had seen women carry. "My clothes. I haven't even gone to my hotel yet."

Tossing it into the trunk, I then opened the door for her and pulled out of the lot with the squeal of burning rubber. I knew exactly where I was taking her.

She sat silently beside me in the front seat. The quietness was soothing. I found her entire presence calming. She shrugged out of her suede jacket and turned and placed it on the backseat. As I watched her, I could see the material of her jeans pull tautly against her firm little behind. She was small, but perfectly shaped. When she sat back, it was evident that her blouse had slipped a bit from beneath her belt. The loose, shimmering, silk turquoise blouse gapped. When she bent over to slip a CD into the player, I could clearly see the tops of her exquisitely formed breasts. For some reason, that part of me that I had thought was long dead, chose to resurrect itself.

Music filled the interior of the car as it sped along the highway towards our destination. She had chosen some guitar music and the strains of the seductive melody wrapped itself around my heart. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat. I dragged my eyes away from the long, lush lashes that touched her cheek, and concentrated on my driving.

"Marco."

I turned and looked at her.

"Marco, I lied." Her eyes flew open and looked directly in mine. Imperceptibly they filled with tears.

"How, what could you have said that was a lie?" I was bewildered. "You have hardly spoken to me at all."

"The picture. I didn't just get it. Her effects were released only a week later. I have had your picture all this time."

"But why did you keep it and why bring it to me now?"

"Can I tell you after dinner? I am very hungry. Could it wait just a bit more?"

Her small hand lay on mine imploring me to be kind. It was easy enough to do.

"After dinner then."

Soon we drew up to the small house that I had rented on the outskirts of town. I needed the safety of my home to deal with the chaotic feelings that Angela had brought forth. Getting out of the car, she stopped for a moment and turned to me.

"This is your house, yes? I had never hoped…" She cut herself off and shook her head. I went before and opened the door for her. She paused once more as if recording the scene for later, then followed me into the house. We stood for a moment in the small vestibule while I hung up our jackets.

"The living room is to your left. I'll get us some drinks from the fridge."

I found some fruit juice and brought two glasses for us. I didn't think we could deal with wine or beer. Coming into the living room, I was still chattering about inconsequentials. Then I saw her. She had stopped dead and was staring at the wall - the wall on which was hung a blow-up of the photo of Ana where she was mocking the camera. She was so strong in that picture. So fearless, it was how I tried to remember her. I would stare at the photo and try to superimpose it upon her face as I last saw it - so pale, so weak. It never worked and I would find myself doing what I did each time I sat in that room. - weeping for lost opportunities, for lost loves.

Angela turned and her face was filled with - rage?

"I hate her! I have always hated her. She had everything while I had nothing!" She took one of the glasses from my hand and threw it against the photo. It smashed, the liquid running down the frame and onto the carpet. The glass on the picture remained intact and it seemed to infuriate her.

She turned back to me, her bosom moving erratically. Her small hands were clenched at her sides.

"Do you want to know what else I lied about, Marco? The writing on the back. She never wrote those words. I really had never intended that you would ever see that photo, that you would ever know I existed. When we were younger it was always Ana who was the brave one, the bright one. I was shy and until I was eighteen, skinny, nearsighted, and afraid to speak up. Then when she became a performer and moved away, it was as if I had finally been given my freedom.

"She did call about you. She was so happy, Marco. She was. 'I have found him, Butterfly,' she said. 'He loves me and I have never known such joy.' Oh, she loved you Marco. But she never wrote those words on the back. She never even saw that photo. After she died, I went to the circus folk. One of the performers gave me that photo and remembered your name. When I saw it." She hesitated, then took a deep breath. "When I saw it, I fell in love with you." She looked up at me and then swiftly lowered her eyes again. "I scrawled those words on the back. And then last week, my brother took me aside and told me that our parents were worried about me. You see, I haven't wanted to go out with anyone since I saw your face. 'Go,' Luis said. 'Confront this man of your dreams. See if you have been merely living a nightmare these last months, in love with a man of whom you know nothing.' So, I came here. And you are all that I could have hoped for in a lover and you are in love with her!"

"Angela, Angela, look at me. You are right. I am still in love with Ana. Perhaps I will always be - at least a little bit. But tonight, you awakened feelings in me that I had thought had died with her. You are nothing like her, that is true. You are yourself and you are beautiful and kind and gentle. I think I need that now. I think that if you wish to, I would like to start putting my life together again. I think we both need to do that. Shall we do this together?" I gathered her hands in mine and brought them to my lips. I kissed each slim finger. She took my hands and placed them against her face. "I would like to try," she said softly. "I truly would like to try - with you." I nodded my head. Walking over to Ana's picture, I took the first step and took it down.