by A. Constanza
There was a knock on the door, and I had Mama on the phone. I wanted her advice on what to make and to do on Saturday, but she was more concerned about my date night.
“Estella, I know you are an adult, but please, do not get pregnant tonight.”
“Oh God,” I groaned.
“Also, please, make sure she doesn’t sleep over at her girlfriend’s house. She’s too young for sleepovers with her girlfriend.”
“At least she wouldn’t get pregnant,” I joked.
“Estella Noelle! I’m very serious.”
There was another knock on the door.
“Yes, Mama, I know. I like teasing you, that’s all.”
I walked toward the door and looked through the peephole before opening the door. I used to open the door without looking, but with Cesar knowing my whereabouts, it was better to take precautions. To my surprise, it was Adler, lost in a tower of boxes.
“Give me a minute,” I whispered to my mom and placed my phone on the end table by the door.
“Adler,” I greeted, happily. “What is all this?”
He carried three white boxes with pink bows on them and handed them to me. “To Miss Salvador, from Mr. Amatore. Wishing you a notte bellissima,” he attempted in his best Italian.
“You’re not serious?” I asked, nervously.
I was shocked by all the gifts, but it wasn’t the first time that I had been surprised by them. Ignacio had bought me an electric piano, and I should’ve known then that it wouldn’t have been the last time.
“Oh, one more thing,” Adler said, and walked back to the car to retrieve a large bouquet of pink peonies with an envelope. He handed them over to me with great care and offered me his best smile. He wasn’t one to show much expression, yet I could tell he was a softie.
“Could you please give me a little insight on tonight?” I asked in a hushed tone.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Just give me a street. I know you’ve been driving him everywhere.”
Adler pretended to zip his lips and walked back to the car. I stood in place, waiting for him to drive away.
“You don’t always have to see me off, Estella,” he called.
“It’s what I do,” I said.
He looked up, contemplating what to say next, and then back at me. “Music. A lot of music.”
I smiled from ear to ear and waved at him as he drove away.
I closed the door behind me and was so lost in all the gifts that I had forgotten that I was on the phone with Mama.
“I’m sorry, Ignacio just surprised me with a lot of gifts!”
“Video-chat me—I want to see what he got you,” she urged and ended the call.
I gathered all the items into the living room and propped my phone against the couch to allow Mama a good view of my gifts.
I video-called Mama, and she told me to open the gifts from smallest to largest. She was excited for me, and I loved that I was able to share this experience with her.
I opened the smallest one and revealed diamond drop earrings. “Oh my God,” I whispered as I gave Mama a closer look. They were white-gold and diamond-wire bezel-drop earrings. They were simple, minimal, but definitely luxury.
“That’s our rent for the month easily,” she gasped.
“This is too much.”
“You’re an amazing girl, and he’s more than lucky. He won the lottery! He should be spoiling you. Go on, open the other ones.”
I shook my head, but there was a smile on my face.
I grabbed the medium-sized box and immediately gasped at the sight of nude pointed heels. “Oh, now I know this is too much.”
“Estella, open it!”
“Mama, they’re Louboutin.”
“Let the man cherish you in his own way.”
“He’s not that flashy, Mama.”
“He wears leather shoes, watches, and more. He is wealthy and shows it in a discreet manner.”
“Fine,” I grumbled and opened the box.
It made sense for the last box to be a dress; it would complete the theme of all the gifts. I prepared to be surprised by another luxurious item, yet I couldn’t contain my awe for the dress. It reminded me of an all-white fairy dress. I lifted it from the ruffled box and admired the underwire dress that had a slight flare at the hem. It had diamante trim outlining the neckline, bust, and straps. My hand touched the glittered mesh fabric, and it glistened under the sun ray that penetrated through the window.
“Mi amor, tráeme hielo, por favor?” I heard Papa ask Mama. He must’ve woken up from a nap; he was always parched after a good nap.
“One minute,” Mama said and looked attentively through the screen. “You’re going to look beautiful tonight. I want a picture of the two of you, okay?”
“Si, si,” I responded. “Go get Papa his ice.”
“Fine.”
She ended the call, and I lifted up the bouquet of peonies that were wrapped in light pink tissues. I loved my gifts, but the peonies were my favorite because they reminded me of that night in Paris. Ignacio approached me, handing me a peony like it was second nature. He had a reserved confidence to him, which only made me more attracted to him.
I swayed on my way to the kitchen, humming a tone that popped to mind, and prepared my arrangement in a magenta-colored vase that I found at the bottom of the sink. I leaned over the counter, placing the handwritten note against the vase to read it. The sun shone brighter than normal, the birds sounded chirper, and I was certainly floating on cloud nine.
In a sky full of millions of stars, my eyes only follow you.
In a city full of millions of people, it feels like it’s just you and me.
In a song full of millions of notes, I only think about you.
***
There wasn’t a chance that I could turn my frizzy hair into a quality hairstyle that would pair with my finest outfit, so I treated myself to the salon. The last time I had done my nails and hair was the day before my flight to Italy.
I texted Adler, telling him that I would be out in five minutes. He didn’t go too far from home after delivering the gifts. Apparently, he was told to be around the area until it was time for the date. Ignacio didn’t like juggling Adler between two cities.
The autumn air tousled my shiny, wavy hair, and I didn’t mind. It gave it a second-day look, which all girls knew looked better than on the first day, oddly enough. I pushed back the strands away from my face and jumped at the sight of the man walking toward me. Romeo.
Romeo was Cesar’s best friend and right-hand man. I used to call him a yes-man because he would agree with Cesar without any hesitation. There could be no logic in Cesar’s decisions, yet Romeo would be the first one to give it a seal of approval.
“Wow,” he called. “Don’t you look so done up and pretty?”
I eyed him and crossed my arms, facing the street again.
“I gave you a compliment; you should say thank you.”
“No, thanks,” I responded.
Romeo huffed and walked in front of me to be in my line of vision. His soulless, beady, black eyes penetrated through me. “You came back from Italy being bitchier than usual.”
“Go away,” I said, walking away from him.
“But I’ve missed you, Twinkle Twinkle.”
I hated that stupid nickname that he and Cesar made for me. They were drunk out of their minds and created parodies out of children’s lullabies. Cesar started to sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and then pointed at me. “Twinkle Twinkle never wants the winkle winkle,” he sang, causing his idiot friends to laugh until they couldn’t breathe.
“I can’t say the same.” I hated that I responded to him; it only kept him entertained. He loved getting under my skin because he knew that Cesar would never say a word to him.
“Ouch, Cesar wouldn’t be happy to hear that.”
“Fuck Cesar and everyone he knows,” I responde
d, harshly.
“Damn,” Romeo said, snapping his head back. “There’s a little bit of bite in that bitch, huh?”
I continued to walk down the street, my arms across my chest and my gaze down on the sidewalk. I could feel him following closely behind me. I turned on my heels and looked him dead in the eyes.
“Please, leave me alone.”
Romeo grabbed the sleeve of my sweater and pulled my arm against him. “But we miss having fun with you.”
I looked at my arm as if it was on fire. Before I could snatch it away, tires screeched against the road, and the BMW skirted in place beside us. The sudden draft caused Romeo to release my arm and look behind him, only to be approached by a bothered Adler.
“Do not touch her again, understand?” Adler warned, his jaw tensed. Adler didn’t look a day over forty, but his short hair, bearded face, and muscular build made him look more intimidating than needed. He had endured more than the average person, being ex-military, and it was clear through his constant stoic expression.
Romeo gave me a sideways glance, puzzled by the sudden bodyguard, and then jogged away without saying another word to either of us.
I could see why Florence Amatore hired Adler to be one of her personal bodyguards and driver. No one would ever dare question him or even bat an eye at him, for that matter. I wondered why he wasn’t with Florence instead considering she was an A-list actress with paparazzi at every corner. What was he doing giving me gifts and picking me up from the salon?
We entered the vehicle, and Adler drove to the townhouse so I could adorn myself with all of Ignacio’s gifts. It was a ten-minute drive, but the silence made it feel like an hour. Adler parked in front of the house, but he didn’t step out of the car as usual. I could open my own door—I would rather do it on my own anyway—but I knew that he wanted me to speak first.
“You’re going to tell him, right?” I asked, softly.
“I have to, Estella. He told me about your situation, and I told him I’d handle it.”
“They’re just a bunch of idiots. I’m sure you’ve spooked them.”
“That’s the point.”
“Let me tell him, okay? He’s put a lot of effort in tonight, and I don’t want the mood to turn sour with this news. Cesar has ruined all the good in my life for the past year; I don’t want him to ruin this night.”
Adler was mulling it over. He was a serious man but not evil. “Very well.”
“Thank you.” I sighed.
I opened the door before Adler could open his, which made him huff in frustration. “You need to stop doing my job.” He wanted to sound stern, but it didn’t faze me.
“Easy money.” I shrugged.
I headed toward the bricked stairs and turned around, seeing Adler watch me. “Who’s watching Ms. Amatore?”
“A friend from the military who also works in this field.”
“I bet you’re nicer than him.”
“Not necessarily true.”
“I believe otherwise.”
Adler tried to fight off his smirk, but I saw the corner of his lips turn slightly upward. “Have a good evening, Miss Salvador.”
“I certainly plan on it.”
No one would get in the way of my night with Ignacio.
THIRY-ONE
Estella
I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hands. I placed them on my lap, clasped them together, held onto the headrest of the passenger door, and also gripped onto the leather seat. Nervous was an understatement. I had to remind myself to take a breath. That’s how nervous Ignacio’s surprise date made me.
Adler seemed entertained and attempted to relieve my anxiety, but it didn’t help. His efforts to find the perfect radio station failed miserably because I preferred no music. I paid close attention to our location, and music only contributed to my inability to concentrate. I had no knowledge of the Manhattan area, but I noticed an increase of college students in red apparel, some even carrying instrument cases. We were at Manhattan School of Music.
“That’s why you said a lot of music,” I chirped, my nervous feelings subsiding momentarily. “We’re going to see a performance?”
“Yes.”
“Awesome,” I whispered, lowering the window and leaning against the edge. I never understood everyone’s fascination with New York, despite being born here. I viewed it as a dirty, smelly city with obnoxious people, blaring horns, and busy roads.
Under the pastel sunset colors, seeing young adults laughing amongst friends, and with the man that I loved just a short distance away, everything seemed to be realigning.
We went down Claremont Avenue, and the BMW made a gentle stop in front of the Performance Center entrance. I undid my seatbelt, slid across to the left side of the vehicle, and flashed a smile at the man who was staring at me through the window with loving eyes. Ignacio Amatore.
He wore a beautifully tailored, navy-blue suit that went so well against his tan skin. He stopped Adler from opening the door and reached for the handle to open it himself. Our eyes met, and everything went in slow motion. His touch radiated warmth, and he eased me out of the vehicle, and once I stepped out, we didn’t utter a sound. We took in the sight of one another, and at some point, time froze.
“Wow,” he exhaled. “You look heavenly.”
All the blood rushed from my heart and to my cheeks. “Thank you,” I whispered.
Ignacio offered his arm, and I delicately placed my hand on him. “And you look great, too,” I added. “As if you walked out of a magazine.” We walked into the spacious center, and I allowed Ignacio to guide me through the unfamiliar yet inviting area.
Ignacio chuckled. “I like the sound of that. GQ or Rolling Stones?”
“Hybrid. Under ‘Hot and Rising Composer’ section, if there is one.”
“That’s always been a long-life dream of mine.”
“To compose?”
“No, to just look like a hot composer.”
“I think you’ll hold the title for years to come. It’s the glasses; to be honest they are my weakness.”
“Good to know,” he said, looking down at me with awe in his face. I wiggled my nose, still unable to comprehend that I was walking down white pristine halls with a man that I dreamt about since I was a child. We had a past, a troubling one, but that all seemed centuries ago.
We stopped in front of the Alan M. and Joan Taub Ades space. The melodies of the piano, cello, and violin wafted outside of the performance space. I held tighter onto Ignacio’s arm in anticipation, practically on my toes in excitement. The only live performance I had experienced was the jazz group in Paris, five years ago.
Ignacio motioned for me to close my eyes, and I did. I heard him open the doors and felt him gently guide me into the space. The music was more audible, a rendition of a popular pop song that I couldn’t place my finger on. Either way, it was better than the original.
“Open,” he whispered in my ear.
The venue had been bathed in candle lights, giving the room a warm and intimate ambiance. There was no other light source. The talented musicians were completely surrounded by flickering candlelight, and there was a black grand piano next to them with a vacant bench. Outside the ring of candles, there were two white chairs with gold rimming.
“A private performance?” I whispered to him in awe.
“Exactly,” he said, holding my hand and moving it upward to swirl me into his arms.
“Aren’t you romantic?”
“For you, yes. Should we sit?”
“Yes!”
It was a surreal experience, hearing the musicians play their renditions of pop music and working their way down the timeline until they began playing classical music. The sweet vibrations traveled through the floor and walls and onto my skin. I rested my head on Ignacio’s shoulder, letting all the music unfold and absorbing it with pleasure. Our love for instrumental music had been the seed that fueled our relationshi
p from the beginning.
I looked down at Ignacio’s watch to check the time. I had been so immersed in the music that I couldn’t believe we had been watching the performance for almost an hour. The piano still hadn’t been occupied, and I wondered when the piano player would make an entrance.
I watched Ignacio ease himself away from me, and fixing his suit, he flashed a mischievous smile, and then I connected the dots when he strode toward the piano.
He’s going to play for me.
At the age of thirteen, I begged Mama and Papa to tell me how they met and how they fell in love. We were sitting at a restaurant, and the question had come to mind. The manner in which they spoke about their first encounter and their growing love was so effortless. They bounced back and forth in their story, everything perfectly aligned and told like a true romance. I had propped my head on my hands and admired their love for each other. Mama told me that when you know, you know. It’ll hit you like the strongest force on Earth, she said, which sounded scary. But it isn’t really, she assured me.
The sensation of the wall built around my heart tumbling apart, each heavy brick being broken down into nothingness and exposing my vulnerable heart—that was when my heart let me fall in love with him. It would an indelible moment etched in time, the time in which love conquered all for me.
I didn’t expect for it to happen, nor did I believe it really would after everything I had endured in the past year. Love with Cesar was hard, brutal, suffocating, but with Ignacio, it was second nature. This love didn’t hurt; this loved healed.
Ignacio and the musicians played one song together: “Clair De Lune” by Debussy. It was my favorite classic song, and hearing it being produced by Ignacio only made my heart tighten. The combination of the strings and the piano felt similar to being in a romance movie. Everything seemed so perfect.
