The Love of a Latino

by Ewing, A. B.

  “I’m sorry, Natasha; it’s just that I thought that I would forget him after all this time. It’s been three months. How could I allow myself to fall in love with him?” She groaned. Walking away from her sister, Dahlia plopped down on her bed, frustrated. Pulling the pillow over her head, she screamed into it. When that didn’t help, she resorted to throwing forceful punches at it, wishing it was Raphael Cavos.

  Natasha chuckled from across the room. “That isn’t going to help, you know. If you want to take your mind off him I have something that would help.”

  “I can’t wait to hear this.” Dahlia rolled her eyes in fake annoyance.

  “Remember when we were small, what we use to do over the August holiday?” Natasha asked a mischievous glint in her eyes.

  “You wouldn’t…” Dahlia didn’t believe Natasha would do it.

  “Want to bet?” Her sister challenged.

  “If Mr. Fred catches us…he will kill us.”

  “Then we won’t let him catch us.” Natasha threw over her shoulder as she made a mad dash for the door.

  ****

  Pitches of playful screams mixed with the wind, travelled upward through the open sky. Dahlia and Natasha splashed about in the big pond, Dahlia wrapped in childhood memories. When they were little girls and Dahlia still lived in Trinidad, they would spend almost every day at the pond. Natasha would make a huge bowl of mango chow, seasoned with pepper and they would spend hours in the warm water. Their mother would usually come to fetch them when the sun decided to slip away, belt in hand promising to ‘to blaze their asses.’

  Being here in the water, still fully dressed in her short pants and tank top, with her sister, Dahlia realized how much she missed this. She knew that after being away for so long there was nowhere else in the world she would rather live. This is where she wanted her children to grow up.

  In a few months she would become a mother. The idea terrified her. She wasn’t sure she if was ready to be a mother, but the idea of a life growing inside her brought out her protective instincts. Her hand went to cover her stomach as if to shield her baby from the world. Dahlia made a silent promise—to be a good mother to her baby as her mother had been to her.

  A splash of water hit her square in the face. She sputtered, trying not to drink any of the brown liquid. Turning, she glared at Natasha who was wading in the water a few feet from her.

  “Natasha…” She threatened playfully.

  “What? You were doing it again, drifting off, so I thought I would bring you back.” Her sister explained; a wicked smile plastered on her face.

  “Well…you better start swimming because when I catch you, you’ll need a doctor to bring you back.”

  Natasha burst into laughter but turned and swam off in the direction of the bank; however, Dahlia– always the better swimmer– caught up in a few strokes, wrestling with her, playfully dunking her beneath the murky water.

  They were both so engrossed in their games; neither of them noticed the old man standing on the bank of the pond watching them intently. It was only when the hunting dog standing next to him, began to yelp—they both jumped, spinning around.

  “Mr. Fred…” Natasha sputtered, wiping a hand over her face to clear the water that clung to her eyelids.

  He didn’t answer, just stood there with a scowl on his aged face.

  “We didn’t know you were there.”

  “Natasha, Dahlia? That is all yuh?” He asked, narrowing his eyes against the setting sun.

  “Yes, it’s us.” It was Dahlia that answered this time. They both were close to the bank now, Natasha helping Dahlia out.

  A smile broke out on the elderly man’s face. “Oh meh God! All yuh get so big. Is years since meh see all yuh in meh pond.” He broke into a steady stream of Trinidadian dialect.

  He came closer, scrutinizing them, Dahlia couldn’t help but smile. There was a time, long ago that they would run off through the bushes at the sight of this man. Now age had caught up with him and in place of the stone-faced man that threatened them so many times, so many years ago, was an old man who was admiring them as though happy for the company.

  “How are you Mr. Fred?” Dahlia asked curious to see how much his attitude had changed.

  “I good, Gyul. De foot giving me some trouble but ah good.” He patted his left leg pointing out which one he meant when he said ‘the foot.’ “Come nah, leh meh give all yuh some orange and plum to carry home,” he said, his voice fading away as he turned and began to walk toward his garden, favoring the leg he had patted.

  Dahlia and Natasha stared at each other for a moment, both surprised by his action. They followed him, through to the clearing that brought them to his garden. He still farmed. There were rows of cabbages, spread out in front of her. Beyond that were hundreds of sweet pepper and pimento pepper trees, the rich green leaves bringing the earth to life. To her left there was a field of corn shooting up to the sky, the part between clean. A few Kiskadees, dashed in an out of the tall plants, their yellow and black feathered wings taking them away in flight. Over the hill, she could hear the roar of a water pump, another farmer tending to his crops. This is what she missed. The thrill of the outdoors, the feeling of being wrapped in nature, a place where one could feel at home.

  Dahlia turned at the sound of someone calling out to Natasha. Roger’s rough voice cut through the air, barely audible over the noise of the afternoon sounds.

  “Natasha, I think Roger’s home.” Dahlia notified her sister waving a finger at her.

  They hastily took the bags of oranges and plums and said their goodbyes to the old man, promising to visit him soon.

  As they took off in the direction of the pond, Dahlia’s heart lifted a little. Her baby would have a childhood as happy as hers. He or she would know what it meant to be a true Trini; a child of the soil.

  ****

  Lauralyn Lopéz Cavos surveyed the rows of dilapidated wooden houses that lined the unkempt road. The patches of grass at the side were overgrown making the road seem darker even in this hot midday sun. She hoped she had the correct address. Tracking down this girl proved to be harder than she’d thought. If Rafe knew what she was up to, he would be livid. Finding Dahlia’s number on his phone was a stroke of pure luck, and that is the only reason she had decided to go through with this. After all this time, he still kept her number. Could that mean he still harbored some hope?

  If there was a small chance that he could find his way back to this girl, Lauralyn wanted to be the one to give it to him. Even if it meant traipsing halfway across the world in this horrible sun to find that person, then she would do it. He would have to thank her with lots of grandbabies.

  She had hoped that calling the girl and explaining would solve the problem, but calls to the number revealed that the phone no longer belonged to Dahlia. The man on the other end said she didn’t work at the Papaya Hut anymore but he was more than helpful. At the end of their conversation, Lauralyn had a full name and address.

  She’d promised herself she wouldn’t get involved in Rafe’s life but seeing her son so distraught was too much for any mother to bear. She had been horrified when Luann had called her all those months ago to notify her that something was wrong with Rafe. When she had arrived at his office she had been terrified at what she’d found. Her son was sprawled out on the sofa in a drunken sleep, his office in a scattered mess. He wouldn’t talk about what had led to his behavior that day, instead he had become silent, refusing to even mention Dahlia’s name. But her son had changed more than she expected. He had lost weight, drinking himself into a drunken stupor most nights. He had become distant and bitter, a stranger even to her. Something had triggered him that day and if he didn’t want to tell her what it was, she would find out for herself. She did not like what her son had become; his love for Dahlia was deeper than she had brought herself to believe.

  The relationship between father and son had become strained, neither of them saying more than a few words to each other at any g
iven time. Even though Alejandro had admitted to her he was wrong, it would be a long time before Rafe would hear those words from him. This was not how the Cavos family treated each other. She would rather die, than see her family destroyed.

  There was only one person who could answer her questions and put an end to Rafe’s miseries. Lauralyn hoped she could find her.

  ****

  Dahlia relaxed in the hammock, a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting lay open on her lap, a gift from Roger. The book made for good reading but it was a no romance novel. It had been a while since she’d read one of those; instead, she thought she was living it. Not the part where the hero would sweep the heroine off her feet and declare his undying love. Her life was the sad part where she got her heart broken. Sarafina was living the part of the heroine. She grimaced as she tried to put a face to the voice. She had no doubt she would be beautiful. People like Raphael Cavos only married that type.

  The hand that rested gently on the small swell of her stomach moved back and forth, something she found herself doing automatically when she drifted away in thought. Morning sickness was now a thing of the past, instead, she battled with a ferocious appetite.

  She was now in her second trimester at nineteen weeks, still getting used to the idea of being pregnant. Her belly was visible now that she was lying down, but when she stood up it was barely noticeable, something she was happy about. She would be able to keep the nosy neighbors from talking just for a little while longer.

  Natasha had been wonderful, accompanying her to her prenatal visits, giving her the support she desperately needed. She would forever be thankful that her sister was also her best friend.

  Raphael was never far from her thoughts. When she lay on her bed at night, memories of him would emerge as if he was branded into her brain. How could it be that one night could be the happiest of her life but also the saddest? He was probably married to Sarafina now, Dahlia a distant memory to him, a fling—a one night stand.

  Had it not been for this baby she was carrying, she would probably have had a nervous breakdown. Sometimes, if she closed her eyes and wished hard enough she was sure she could hear him call her name. She could hear him say those words she longed for; I love you Dahlia. But when she opened her eyes, reality would be there waiting for her, reminding her with a cold hand that there was no happily ever after. Love hurt and if you weren’t strong enough it could destroy you.

  She wondered what he would do if he knew that they had created a baby that night. Would he want to be part of its life? Would their baby look like him if it was a boy, that same thick brow, that hard mouth, those deep grey eyes?

  A future with Raphael was completely out of the question, but that didn’t stop her deceitful heart from loving him. It didn’t matter how she felt. He belonged to someone else. If he had cared even a littler, he would have come back. But he hadn’t.

  A growl from the dog lying at her side had her glimpsing down at him. He was chewing on her flip flop again. Dahlia gave him a stern look, muttering, “Marley what am I going to do with you?”

  At the mention of its name, the dog angled its head and released the flip flop. Its tongue slipped out the side of its mouth. Unable to stay mad at the dog with its silly looking face Dahlia laughed. Happy at being the center of attention the massive dog rose to its full height and proceeded to lick its way into her heart. She giggled, trying to fend away the wet tongue in her face, when he suddenly went still, his ears cocked.

  “What is it, Boy?”

  A low growl began somewhere in the depths of its throat, then it rolled out in full-fledged barks, the heavy sound rumbling in Dahlia’s ear. The dog turned and took off in a run around the front of the house alerting her that someone was at the gate. She heard the chain rattling on the gate as she struggled to climb out of the hammock. No doubt the silly dog was getting carried away at a stray. She muttered something about boxing.

  Slipping the wet flip flop on her feet she moaned as the dog’s saliva sank in between her toes. “Ugh, I am going to kill that dog.” Hurrying around the front she saw him, barking ferociously at something or someone on the other side, threatening to break the gate as his heavy body slammed against it. As she got closer, she noticed the yellow taxi parked, a woman stood partially out of the car. When she spotted Dahlia she stepped out fully, leaving the door open.

  “Hello, good afternoon. I am not sure if you could help me. I’m looking for someone.” The woman started, eyeing the frightful dog cautiously.

  “Marley, go to the back.” Dahlia commanded. The dog stopped its ranting and looked at her as if asking for another chance. She pointed and said again, “To the back.” This time a little more forcefully. Giving into his mistress’ demand, the large dog dropped its ears and strolled in the direction he was ordered.

  Dahlia turned back to the woman. She was certainly not from around here. The fact that she was white was the first telltale sign. The second was her manner of dress. It was the middle of the day but she was dressed in a long sleeved, turtle neck sweater, jeans and ridiculously high stilettos.

  “Oh, thank you. That sure is a big dog.” She came closer to the gate.

  “You said you were looking for someone.” Dahlia reminded her.

  “Oh, yes, I’m sorry. I am looking for a young lady, her name is Dahlia Moore. This is the address I got from the Papaya Hut, but I am not sure if she still lives here.” The woman was babbling, her accent making it difficult for Dahlia to understand her clearly. Who was this woman that was seeking her out? Dahlia was sure she didn’t know her.

  “Why are you looking for Dahlia?” Dahlia asked.

  “So you know her. Good! But I’m sorry I cannot discuss that with anyone. I must speak to Dahlia herself.” The woman explained. She sounded almost urgent.

  What was this woman doing here, acting as if someone had just died? “Well maybe if you give me your name and a contact number, I could have her call you.” Dahlia suggested, hoping the woman would give some hint as to who she was.

  The woman’s face became serious, the nervous look disappeared. Eyeballing Dahlia the woman hissed, “Maybe you don’t understand me, young lady. Either you know where Dahlia is or you don’t. I will speak to her and only her. I did not fly all the way from New York to be toyed with.” It was now that Dahlia saw the maturity in her face. She was older than she looked, but she was beautiful and just for a moment Dahlia thought she looked familiar.

  Realizing that this woman’s business was indeed urgent Dahlia said flatly, “I am Dahlia. Who are you? What do you want with me?”

  The woman paused, the tension from her face disappeared, a friendly smile replacing it. “Thank God, I have found you. You and I have a lot to talk about. I must say you are as beautiful as he said.”

  Warning bells sounded in Dahlia’s head at the woman’s words. But before she could prepare herself the chestnut colored hair woman said. “It is good to finally meet you Dahlia Moore. My name is Lauralyn Lopéz Cavos. Raphael Cavos is my son. Shall you invite me in?”

  Dahlia felt the blood drain from her face. Her body slumped against the cold iron of the gate, long fingers pulling her deeper into the black vortex. The last thing she remembered was Lauralyn Cavos calling her name.

  ****

  Chapter 7

  She was more beautiful than he professed, Lauralyn thought, looking at the girl on the bed. She swallowed a lump that formed in her throat, swiping at a stray tear that rolled down her cheek. Her gazed travelled to the little bump carefully concealed under the cotton dress. Dahlia was pregnant and if Lauralyn had her dates correct, she would be a grandmother in about four and a half months. Her heart swelled at the possibility.

  The bedroom door opened and Dahlia’s sister came in holding a glass of water in one hand and a glass of soda in the other. Accepting the soda Lauralyn offered a whispered thank you and watched as Natasha placed the glass of water on the bedside table, going to her sister to brush a strand of hair from her forehead. S
he knew she would need to be very cautious as to how she handled this situation.

  “Is the baby alright?” The older woman asked, breaking the mind numbing silence in the room.

  Natasha straightened up and glared at her, looking like a snake ready to strike. “Yes, the baby’s fine.” She snapped.

  “I’m sorry for showing up like this, but I had no other way of contacting her. I didn’t mean to upset her.” Lauralyn apologized trying to convince the woman she wasn’t a threat to her or her sister.

  When Dahlia had swooned and fainted on the other side of the gate, Lauralyn had a sheer moment of panic. Any attempt to assist her resulted in the large dog’s vicious barks and drooling sneer. Fearful that she would not be able to help Dahlia, Lauralyn’s heart soared when Natasha came rushing out of the house. Thank God the dog had made such a commotion.

  With the animal carefully locked away, they had enlisted the help of the taxi driver to get Dahlia to her bed. Now she rested comfortably in what seemed like her childhood room. She looked like a child. Still unconscious from her faint she lay amidst a pile of stuffed toys. Her hair was beautiful just as Rafe had said. She smiled at the memory of her son’s description.

  “Did he send you?” It was a simple question. Natasha made clear her opposition to the other woman being here in those few words.

  “No, he doesn’t know I’m here.” Lauralyn took a sip from her soda savoring the feel of the cold liquid as it slid down her parched throat.

  “Then why did you come?”

  “I don’t have all the details about what went on between your sister and my son, but I think there might have been a misunderstanding between the two.”

  Natasha leaned her back against the window frame, her arms folded across her chest. “I don’t understand how there could have been any misunderstanding. Your son slept with my sister even though he was engaged.” She criticized.