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The gold of sunrise shines across the sky, announcing dawn with every singing bird. Josephine travels an ancient path, almost deaf toward the morning song as thoughts inundate her mind. Vendors prepare for the day. A vendor strings up blue petaled, pink floral arrangements, and popping yellows with streamers from headbands. A well-known tourist favorite for young girls. Knickknacks are highlighted by weaved designs from the flowered headdresses across his cart. He slides a box of at least a dozen more under his cart. “Eye candy,” she said. Her hazel strolls along the river sidewalks as the number of vendors increase. “San Antonio will be flooded with tourists from all over in the next couple of hours.” Delivery trucks making early distributions steal her focus. “Almost Fiesta time. So much hustle during the early hours. Everyone’s stocking up for the battle of flowers. And the strawberry festival will soon follow. La primavera… the spring.” Josephine stares down at her sandals, making tiny strides toward nowhere, allowing fate, or whatever, to seize her attention.
But,
“My birthday’s coming up. March twentieth. I’ll be twenty-one, a virgin, and all alone this year. And I don’t have an idea of what to do for my life.” Her mind drifts like the river water as she walks around, merely enjoying a peaceful morning with nowhere to go, waiting for life to greet her somehow. She’s open to anything at this point, instead of fighting the crazy realization of trying to reenact a dream. A dream that only reminded her how lonely she is.
◆◆◆
Daylight has risen enough to glimmer more than just gold and silver across rooftops. She can identify slate and metal colors now. Morning. A business morning with real business traffic, blocking her from wanting to get on any highway. At least, not anytime soon. She looks over and sees the sidewalks slathered with vendors conversing with early bird tourists. A true testimony that the river is already awake when she sees tourists and families. Cameras pop out like the buds of the trees. A couple of soldiers in uniform brazen the stone ways. They walk with a confident stride. She says, “I wonder if he’s at the army base nearby… thinking of me.”
“I’m always nearby and thinking of you,” Lucius sneers at camo with a shudder. “I don’t look good in a pattern.”
Josephine giggles, remembering how they were trapped inside from blizzard conditions. “He looked so cute in those camo pajamas. That’ll be my new nickname for him… Camo pajamas.”
“Aw,” blushed cheeks duck behind an advertisement for fajitas. “For you… anything.”
◆◆◆
Several hours pass and Josephine watches vendors who have all been the same for decades. As she tarries on closer toward the mission, she notices a few new vendors have shown up for fiesta and the battle of flowers. The Alamo comes into view, along with cameras and family poses.
Nearby the Alamo mission, Josephine studies a man selling a great assortment of vegetation and floral arrangements on the street. A large family adorns his company with hearty smiles of beautifully tanned faces. They’re sun-kissed with a natural Latino glow. Each vendor perfectly plays their role. Several Latina women, dressed as if they came from an old-world photograph, help him set out bouquets. Their ensemble is completed with a pluming flower in their hair. Josephine keeps her hands to herself, admiring what she’ll only allow her eyes to touch. Colors ornamenting the area pop with evening glow orange, morning yellow, and every purple someone could grow in the area. Each petal color sprinkles along the sidewalk with an inviting smell, reminding her of a soon coming parade. A parade she has no desire to attend, if to miss a possible visit from Lucius.
Again,
reminding her how trapped she’s become. A few yards down, white roses snag her attention. She’s stopped in place as a memory floats across her mind.
She remembers the November day well. Lucius handed her a white rose. The petals whisked aroma over her flushed cheeks, and his deep tone eased her fear. Tingles covered her body, and still do with the memory. Josephine breaks through the stuttering of stomach flutters. “I think I still have that rose somewhere.” Her fingers touch her lips. “Where did I put it?”
An elderly gentleman with a rodeo-styled gait and glimmering belt buckle notices Josephine eyeing arrangements he’s recently placed out. His mustache holds more silver and white growth than all the rose petals set out. A couple of younger Hispanic women smile at Josephine when their grandpa slows and places his work load down. One Hispanic lady says, “You can’t run from this old man…” She winks at Josephine. “He knows a beautiful woman who deserves a flower in her hair when he sees her.”
“I couldn’t.” Josephine says, “I couldn’t take anything for free. It would make me feel wrong.”
“Would a beautiful woman like to wear a beautiful rose,” he asked anyway. “Eres muy hermosa jovencita.”
His daughter speaks up, “Make this old man smile. My granddaddy says, ‘you’re very beautiful young lady.’ Bring a smile to him.”
“He’s already smiling.” Josephine crescents a lip. “But I couldn’t take it. I’m just looking and I wouldn’t want it to die. Thanks.”
Another man standing twelve feet away hangs up his phone and whispers under his breath, “Damn, she looks perfect.” He slides closer to the conversation. “Sir…” grabbing the greyed vendor’s attention, “I’ll buy her one. She don’t have to feel bad and it ain’t gonna hurt my feelings if a single red rose withers before she gets it into water.” The new twanged voice points at Josephine. “You’re right… she deserves a flower in her hair.”
“Um, thanks,” Josephine said.
The man purchases a single red rose and tilts his hat toward the vendor. “Much obliged,” he says as he sets a bearing toward Josephine’s long hair.
He’s a rugged cowboy in formfitting denim jeans and dressed with a rough southern flare. He wears natural colors in his plaid shirt. Tan where white would usually be in the spring, and with burgundy instead of red. His hat is definitely the main dish of his attraction and shadows almost everything beneath it. All except his sharp jawline and mild stubble. The gentleman uses all his southern charm catching attention from other ladies with each stride.
He walks as if his boots give him free access into any personal venue or personal space. Josephine summed him up with a small assessment.
He shows off a flashy belt buckle with every broad step he takes in her direction. “Paid in full.” He tries placing a dark green stem in her hair.
Josephine steps back. “It’s okay.” She swivels away with disinterest. “You paid for it… you keep it.”
He races around her and blocks her from disappearing. “I don’t think you understand, madame,” using a low suave voice, “I bought this solely for you. I have no need for this beautiful gesture.” He motions back at a silver mustache. “My opinion happens to be the same as his.” The man takes a bow and hands her the rose. “A beautiful rose for a very beautiful woman. I believe you deserve this.” He signals around them. “I believe every gentleman here would agree with that.”
Lucius’s nostrils flare. “Chump.”
Josephine shrugs. “I guess I don’t know what to say.” She fights giggling and teases, “This means a lot to me. But I wanted a white one.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He turns swiftly and gathers a different one for her.
Lucius says, “What’s this guy doing? She said she doesn’t want anything.”
Josephine interrupts the cowboy. “I’m only playing because I didn’t know what to say.” She lets loose a laugh and covers her lips. “I’m sorry. I tease when I’m nervous.”
“Madame,” the cowboy pauses and looks up at her, “I could get you the one you want. It’s no trouble, even if you were only play’n with me. You’re not bothering me one bit.”
“Thank you. That one’s fine. Sorry ‘bout that.”
The cowboy hands her the flower with a tilt of his hat. “For you.”
“Well, okay,” she says as she rolls her lips inward. “Thanks for
the rose.” And without another word, Josephine walks away.
“Wait, please, my beautiful lady,” the man calls out while catching up to her across the street.
“I really quite honestly don’t know what else to say other than… thank you,” she shrugs. “I’ll put it in… some water when I get home, if it’s still alive.”
He brushes the back of her arm, catching some soft sleeve and stops her. “Be careful how you hold that rose.” He plugs a finger toward it. “You could get a thorn from it. It wouldn’t be much of a gift if that were to happen.”
“Thanks, dude. Move on.” Lucius momentarily turns off his camouflage to end any conversation between the two of them while forgetting his role for half a moment. He takes one step as a couple of eyes contact him. He nods at two nuns visiting the Alamo as they walk by. “Excuse me sisters.” He reactivates his camouflage, deciding to keep hidden in public. “This is gonna be rough,” he exhaled.
Josephine smiles at petals. “I’ll make sure I don’t get a thorn.”
The cowboy takes off his hat. He holds dark felt to his chest and bobs his bowed head with a southern twang. “My name’s Drake. You can call me Big Drake, or Drake… either one, Ms. Beautiful.”
“Actually,” pointing with her chin, “My name’s Josephine, Jo, and I used to go by Josey,” she mimics his greeting.
“Marvelous.” He glimpses at an empty ring finger and notices no band of promise. Or… an indent from jewelry, or even a tan line. “You here alone?”
Lucius snarls, “No.”
Josephine shortens her distance back toward the river walkways. “I’m just visiting.” She sniffs her flower. “I was hoping someone would show but… I guess you could say I’m alone.”
Drake studies how the March winds make her skirt flow against her soft legs. He pauses in his thoughts before he asks, “Where’re ya from, Jo,” admiring her physique a little closer when she slows down, “… if you’re meeting somebody?”
Her lips stretch after hearing that specific nickname. “Well… actually you can call me Josephine.” She motions toward the flower vendor without turning, traveling on to finish her stone walkway hiking trail for the day. “I was joking earlier just to mimic the way you greeted me.” She pivots toward him, forcing him to glance upward. “I wasn’t meeting somebody. I was just hoping someone would show.”
“I’m someone. A beautiful woman like you should never be alone.” Drake gestures a wiggle from a straight jawline. “I won’t have any of that. Consider me your tour guide for the day. So, where’re ya from,” he stretches her name, “Jo-se-phine?”
“I don’t need a tour guide. I actually live in San Antonio. I know my way around.”
“Here?”
“Well… not right here in central San Antonio,” weaving her hair through a couple of fingers, “but I live within a comfortable drive. I grew up here.”
Drake steps closer as several men stare with equally hungry eyes. Staking some potential claim, he places his hand against her back as they stroll a few more steps. Josephine slows down until stopped. Her hazel eyes glance back. “I know you’re being kind. I’m a bit of a solitary creature when it comes to touching somebody. I don’t like doting too much. Sorry. I mean… I like chivalry, but I’m not a touchy person when it comes to somebody I don’t really know.”
“You don’t know me? My name’s Drake.” He stretches his bottom lip and acts as if he’s pulling a knife from his heart. “It’s so painful to hear someone so kind say that to me.” Drawing attention with his eyes and raising his voice, he announces, “Ladies and gentlemen…”
“What are you doing?” Her expression broadens. “They’re looking.”
“… my name’s Drake! I’m such a sensitive friend to this lady…” He winks back at her, “and she keeps pushing my friendship away… and will never know who I am.”
“Okay.” She holds her hands up. “Okay.” She presses into the air for him to stop. “Don’t do that anymore. We can be friends.”
His head digs between shoulders. “Nobody cares I did that. Sorry I embarrassed you. But I promise… I’m very friendly. Do you have no friends? Do you push everyone away like this?”
“I have friends.”
“Then why do you treat new people like that,” he says while dropping his shoulders. “I get it. I must look like a total scoundrel. All I was doing was playing big brother to a self-sufficient woman. I forget what day and age this is.” He sneers at a couple of lit up screens of pedestrians walking less than a foot from each other while no words pass between them. “I guess you should’ve friended me on a social network first. Women don’t much like gentlemen anymore.” He shares pouty eyes. “Can you forgive me?”
“No,” Lucius snapped. “You’re a —
“I like gentlemen acting like gentlemen.” She sways a finger in the air. “You’re so funny. Around my friends, I would’ve acted the same way ‘bout that… embarrassing them on purpose, so they’d quit acting pompous, like when they stare at phones instead of me. Half the time I forget to charge mine.” Her fingertips glide across her heart. “Of course, I forgive you. I guess I should be apologizing for being so cold shouldered toward a kind stranger. You’re right. It’s easier to talk to someone over the internet instead of in person. I guess that makes me a hypocrite,” raising reddened petals high from a stem, “especially, after you gave me a rose… not an emoji of one. It was very sweet of you.”
“But, baby, he’s a…” Lucius pauses, “Well… this day just filled up with jerks I wanna kill already.” He bites his taut lip. “I knew today was gonna be difficult, but I didn’t expect him.”
Josephine rests along cold bricks lining the river, soaking up sunlight while admiring softening rose petals. Families pass by with mental itineraries and agendas planned for the day. Then she realizes… she has a tagalong that is probably getting bored to death. “I really didn’t have anything planned today.” She shrugs, “I was just enjoying my time. I’m probably gonna leave soon. Nice meeting you.”
“Hold on…” Drake shoots up from beside her. “Stay here.” His hands raise like a makeshift stop sign in midair. “Be back in a minute. Don’t go nowhere.” He strides off while turning back several times. “Hold on, miss. Be right back.” His voice trails off, “Don’t go nowhere!”
Lucius bites his nails as he stands a few feet behind her. “Please, go baby.” He’s nearly bouncing in place. “Now’s your opportunity. You’re free from him. You can just —
“Okay,” Josephine calls out, “Please don’t take long.” She mumbles when Drake’s too far to hear, “I think I’m done for the day.”
Lucius lets a guttural moan escape, “Augh, I think I’m gonna be sick.” Lucius takes the opportunity to listen in to what Drake is doing nearly fifty yards away.
Drake hurries to purchase a couple of tickets to ride the River Walk ferry. “Thank you, sir,” he tells the vendor while clenching the tickets and making his way back. “She’s going on her first date with me and she don’t even know it.”
Lucius fans himself. “Is it hot out here?” He decides to climb stairs to keep his distance. He’s already tempted, and so he forces himself away, so as to stop tempting himself to carry her away on his own… “Not in public.”
Josephine senses a tug from deep inside — a familiar feeling of comfort sliding away and drawing her attention elsewhere. She nonchalantly looks over toward stairs leading to a street and mumbles, “I just wanna leave. I was only here because…” Groups of people crowd the upper street, but one in particular makes her squint and study the passersby. A man is cooling himself and wiping his brow as if the steps of the bridge are too difficult for him. As if the act of stepping is complete anguish. His silhouette is familiar, but the overgrown gingerbread strands brushing the tops of his ears seems off. He is broad shouldered and over six-foot-tall. It has to be him, and there is only one way to check with all these people around.
“Lucius!” She prepares to stand to her f
eet. “Lucius?”
She sees me. He pauses on a step and grabs his chest to keep it from beating past his ribs. He’s nearly hyperventilating and his stomach churns with indecisiveness. Don’t turn around, Lucius. Keep going. With all his strength threatening to go on strike, he continues walking as if he was merely pausing to look at his shoes. Not in public. Never in public.
“Wait a minute.” She takes a couple of steps. “It looks like him.”
“Hey, Jojo!” Drake snatches her arm. “You’re coming with me. You’re gonna be my hostage on a boat for a while. I just bought us two tickets to ride the ferry and it’s leaving now.”
Josephine looks back several times as she’s escorted over to the tour boat. “But I…” The further away she gets, the more tourists block her vision. Her fingertips rub her reddened lips as she studies city walkways. She walks sideways until bumping against, and then stepping over the ferry railing. “I think…”
Josephine’s reaction and un-relaxed body is noticeably uncomfortable. Drake says, “It’s alright, little miss Josephine. Them boats are very sturdy, miss. Besides, the river is mostly a few feet deep anyhow.” He takes her arm and directs her to a cushioned bench seat next to the railing. “Come on, beautiful,” patting beside him, “sit down here… next to me. We gotta make room for everyone else.”
Josephine sits but continues gazing off at nothing.
“Don’t worry.” Drake slides an arm behind her as her mind is preoccupied. “I’ll keep you from falling.” She glances over at Drake. A subtle smile and nod offers him a reply that is short-lived, even for a mediocre thank you. “Nice to know you care.”
The tour guide rolls out his rehearsed teaching, informing tourists while keeping his hands on the navigation wheel. He points out a basketball team jersey one tourist wears proudly. “How dare you, sir,” nearly chuckling, “Nobody over here will be cheering for that Dallas team this year.” As he gets to know his tourists more, the tour guide glimpses Josephine’s Mexican-styled dress and the rose she holds. “At least some people know what team to cheer for in this area.” He winks at her. “I like that dress, miss.”
Ashes Remain Page 4
