“My time here was like a refuge. I loved spending time with Tia Joana.” She played with a lock of hair, wishing she had braided it instead. “When I was younger, I’d spend my days following her around as she did the gardening or took care of the chickens that roamed the yards. We’d collect the eggs in a large wicker basket and take them to the village store to trade for flour and sugar.
“She’d teach me about the herbs and vegetables from the garden in the morning, and we’d sit together shelling peas or beans in the shade of the back porch after lunch, when the sun was too hot for anything else.”
She raised a hand to the eastern side of the house. Josh’s gaze followed her indication. “On that side over there is the back porch. It was cooler in the afternoon so that’s where we’d sit. Sometimes we read. But she always had stories to tell about almost everyone in the village.”
Josh crossed his ankles and relaxed against the bench.
The words were clear, even after all these years. “She would say to me Now listen to me, Sofia. See what happened to that Ana Lúcia?” She looked toward the village center, even though they were too far to see anything. “Most girls and women around here were named Ana, Marta, or Lúcia back then, as homage to the local saints. Then she’d say, That’s what happens to girls who daydream all day long.”
“I guess Tia Joana was a bit of a busybody,” she continued. “Her stories were always cautionary tales meant to warn me off the wiles of men. Even though I was too young to fully understand her meaning, I paid close attention. She made me promise to be a smart girl.”
Josh shifted in the park bench. “You never got in trouble?”
“Of course not. My answer was always sim, Tia even when I didn’t know what she meant.”
Josh chuckled, and raised an eyebrow at her. “And you never misbehaved behind her back?”
“And be sent home?” She shook her head. “She’d smile at me and pat my head, then say, Menina esperta. I did feel like a smart girl.” Some of the memories were so clear. “It was like a pact between us, these roles we had of storyteller and story listener.”
“It sounds like you had a great relationship with her,” Josh said, resting an arm over the back of the bench.
“Yes, we were really close. I guess we kind of adopted each other. She didn’t have any children, and my mother wasn’t very affectionate.” How easy it was for her to admit to it now. “I never had the courage to ask about Tia’s story. I heard the rumors about this great love in her life, from whom she had been separated. I always regretted not asking her.”
A flush crept over her cheeks and she turned her face away from Josh, pretending to look at the house. Why did she talk of lost loves with Josh? It was a sore topic for both of them.
“There were some times when I’d catch her staring at the horizon with a sad smile on her lips. I always knew she guarded something.” The longing tone couldn’t be avoided. “In fact, I remember thinking she daydreamed more than I did.” She straightened. “Not that I would have called her on something she wanted to keep secret.”
Josh turned to her and his expression was one of encouragement.
“My last summer with her was after tenth grade.” There was a catch in her voice. “After that, I didn’t get to see her for a few years; I don’t even remember why. I was at university when my father drove us here to see her.” She paused at the bleak memory. “I remember holding her frail hand in mine, her fingers long and bony, yet so familiar. She had aged too much in just a few short years. I sat there for some time, reliving all the moments that we shared.” She pointed at the top floor of the house. “That corner room was hers. She could see the front garden and fruit trees from that window.” Sofia sighed and twisted the end of her braid in her fingers. “Before we left, she whispered my name and told me not to lose sight of my daydreams.”
A small tear rolled down her cheek, and Sofia passed a finger to wipe it. She had never told anyone else so much about Tia Joana. There was a tie between Josh and her, with all that she’d shared with him. It was bittersweet, but she was glad she’d done it.
Josh reached in his back pocket and handed her a clean napkin, which she used to dab her eyes.
“Thanks for sharing that with me. She sounds like she was a great lady,” he said.
“She was the best.” She looked toward the road, where the traffic hadn’t slowed down. “I did her vicarious work in the temple two years ago.”
Josh fixed his eyes on her and was quiet for a long moment. If only she could read his mind.
“It was one of the most spiritual experiences I’ve had in my life,” Sofia continued.
He just nodded, with a small smile, but held back any words about the subject. Did he really not miss going to the temple anymore?
He turned to the house and she followed. “If the house was your aunt’s, why is it not in the family now?”
Sofia blew out a frustrated sigh. “That’s the question everyone asked after her funeral. It turns out my father was not a very truthful person. He made my mother believe the house belonged to his parents. The truth was that Tia Joana rented it from an old family in the region, and we had no claim to it.”
Josh let out a low whistle. “Wow. That’s just crazy.”
“It was a very hard time for our family, very stressful.” Sofia stood, unable to remain seated any longer. She walked closer to the old iron fence.
Josh came to stand next to her, their shoulders and arms touching, and he laced his fingers through hers. “I’m glad you had this place and your tia to come to.”
She felt so close to him at the simplest contact. The awareness of it was stronger than she’d thought possible, and everything in her wished to lean into him and borrow some of his strength.
Shaking the old feelings away, Sofia said a last goodbye to the house and walked back to the car with Josh.
*
Josh pulled up to the sidewalk and shut off the engine. Sofia turned to say goodnight but he exited the car and escorted her to the building door. He didn’t climb the last step when she approached the landing and they were left at a more even level for their height difference, face to face. The light posts in front of the building on the sidewalk cast enough light for Sofia to discern his eyes on her. In the early evening light, the dark blue glinted with an emotion she could not read, intense but not unfriendly.
Sofia went onto her tiptoes to give him a beijinho on each side and he took her hand in his, bridging the distance between them as their cheeks met. For a brief moment, the touch lingered. She held on to his hand for balance, and his fingers tightened around hers.
“Com licença,” a male voice said behind them.
Josh and Sofia pulled apart and she stepped to the side. “Desculpe.” It was the neighbor from upstairs, an insurance salesman in his mid-fifties. Her cheeks flushed and she was glad she stood in the shadows and out of the foyer’s light. How embarrassing to be caught like this.
Josh rubbed the back of his neck and smiled lopsidedly at her. Once the guy was down the street, Josh walked closer to Sofia. “Sorry about that.” He half-turned to look at the night sky.
Sofia was sorry too, but not for the same reason. She held on to the building’s door and stepped in to put some distance between them. “It’s all right.” She had been seconds away from kissing Josh on the lips. The desire tasted all too real, and if the neighbor hadn’t interrupted them, he’d have had an eyeful of her throwing herself at Josh. Unbelievable.
Josh played with his car keys, as if trying to hide the awkwardness between them. He then turned back to her. “Thanks for the company today.”
Sofia waved back, unable to say much more than an obrigada. What he must think of her. As she rode up the elevator, she tried to reconcile what had happened. Her heart told her one thing, her brain another. In the end, it was best not to think about it too much lest her emotions get hold of her. The memories of the day were complete and unspoiled, and she didn’t want anything to ruin th
ose.
When Sofia entered the apartment, muffled sounds came from down the hallway. Mother’s bedroom. She quickly walked in that direction as Nurse Antónia opened the door and exited the bedroom.
“Nurse Antónia, what’s going on?”
The nurse took a deep breath. “She’s upset. She had a bad day and it just gets worse at bedtime. Have you noticed a change in her?”
Sofia shook her head. “Not anything like this.”
She opened the door and entered the room. Mother sat on the side of the bed, talking loudly and unintelligibly, and Sofia came around to kneel on the floor before her.
“Mãe? Que se passa?” She lowered her voice into a soothing tone.
Mother pushed back at Sofia’s arms but Sofia held her hands. After twenty minutes of speaking softly, Sofia coaxed Mother into bed, where she finally fell asleep.
Nurse Antónia waited in the kitchen, sitting at the table with two cups of tea. She pushed one in Sofia’s direction, and Sofia sat.
“Do you go through this every night?” she asked Sofia.
She shook her head. “No. She’s grumpier in the evening but not belligerent like this.”
“The key is to keep a constant routine. Any change in that routine and she reacts.”
Sofia put down the cup and held a hand to her forehead. “Yes, I know.”
“Have you considered placing her in a full-time care facility?”
Sofia nodded. “I have.”
“Do you have her name in any waiting lists?”
“Not yet.”
Nurse Antónia stood and drew a pencil from her pocket, then opened the drawer where Sofia kept the paper pads, and took a sheet. She sat back down and wrote names and phone numbers as she talked about the options for Mother.
How was she going to make this work? Sofia half-listened to her suggestions, her mind wandering to the problems that came with any of the options. She had thought about it; she’d been thinking about it for quite some time now, but the lack of money hindered all other plans that required action. There was one way to get part of the funds, but she wasn’t ready to consider giving up her dream yet, was she? There had to be another way to fund Mother’s care.
Nurse Antónia stopped at the door. “By the way, I’m glad you had the repair man come by to proof the apartment.”
The alarm rose within her, and Sofia held a breath. “Which repair man?”
“The foreign one, tall and attractive. You’ll have to tell me where you found him.” She winked at Sofia and smiled suggestively. “I have a few things around my apartment that need fixing.”
Relief and understanding flooded her. Josh. He was the tall, attractive foreigner in her life who could repair anything, but he was not for hire and Sofia didn’t feel like sharing.
After Nurse Antónia left, Sofia checked on Mother, then went around the apartment. How busy had she been not to notice what Josh had done? Not only had he proofed the cabinets and sliding doors and windows, the power plugs and door handles, but he’d also fixed the toilet tank valve, the back burner on the stove, and the light socket in the kitchen balcony, the one that kept blowing all the bulbs a day after she replaced them.
Sofia leaned against the wall, overcome with gratitude. How long had she been putting off the hire of a plumber and an electrician until she had some extra funds? Much too long, since anything extra was as rare as unicorns. Josh had seen the need, had come and repaired more than what he’d originally offered to do. And she hadn’t said anything, not even a little thank you.
In the living room, the light from the street streamed in through the open blinds, and the curtains undulated in the scant breeze. The sounds of traffic were a familiar background soundtrack reminding her that the rest of the city went on, whatever happened in her world. She sat on the sofa and tucked her legs to the side, needing these minutes alone to inventory her day.
What a day. It had been near-perfect in Josh’s company, and she’d almost forgotten about the problems that waited for her at home. The guilt filled her heart for thinking of Mother as a problem, one that required delicate manners and lots of patience, for someone she hardly recognized any more. But Sofia’s heart ached as each day took a little more of Mother’s personality.
What couldn’t be fixed was already fixed, was Tia Joana’s favorite saying. But Sofia hadn’t reached that point yet. Tomorrow she would go out and get a summer job; she had to.
But how could she repay Josh for his kindness and service?
Every morning Josh walked the streets of Braga with his camera around his neck and his lens bag on his back. He’d been doing it since his arrival six weeks before. He stood out, of course, without even saying a word. But as it was, his height and his accent gave him away among the locals, and to his advantage.
In the beginning, he’d gone all day on occasion and only photographed one or two people. Now, with the project taking over not only in the city but also in the country and abroad, people recognized him and he no longer had difficulties in finding willing subjects who shared a line or two of their lives with him while he took their picture.
Today had been no different and already the image he’d posted on Facebook of the little girl holding a red balloon had garnered more attention and “likes” than he’d predicted. But children usually did, no matter where they came from or where they lived. After a late lunch, Josh went back to his hotel room and started processing the rest of the images he’d taken earlier.
In his email inbox, a message from the principal of the school in California expressed her satisfaction with the completed job. Josh’s decision to prolong his stay in Braga had allowed him to deliver all the images promised, along with the marketing materials, without the stress of the rainy weather he’d faced in the beginning.
When the client was happy, he was happy, and nothing felt better than a job well done. In the meantime, he’d shot two weddings; he had already delivered the first and was almost done with the second, and another opportunity had just shown up. His original plan for a quick trip to Braga had been long abandoned and with new work coming in, he was not in a hurry to go back to the States.
Josh stood from the desk, stretched his arms above his head, and opened the sliding door to the narrow balcony overlooking the street below. In the early evening, traffic was still heavy. He turned his gaze to the west side of town, over the terracotta rooftops and church steeples, despite not being able to see the building he knew was there. Even if he excused himself with the reason of interesting work and a new, exciting projects that kept him busy, the real motivation for extending his stay had nothing to do with photography or the city.
Sofia.
It had been two days since they spent time together in Viana do Castelo. He had sent her some texts and she had replied. But that was not enough. Not when he’d been so close to kissing her in front of her building when he had dropped her at home.
Before his brain could override his heart, he grabbed the car keys and left.
When Sofia opened her apartment door to him, she smiled. For a little moment, he just watched, the emotion rising in his chest. How could he have possibly missed her this much in just two days? He finally smiled back, aware he grinned too widely, and not able to hold it back.
“Boa noite, Sofia.” At least his voice was even.
“Boa noite. Entra.” She closed the door behind them and led the way to the living room.
Her hair was down and her feet bare, with her face devoid of make-up. She wore a white t-shirt with Scout Tourist Service across the chest and a navy pair of sweatpants. It was a domestic scene, seeing her like this at the end of the day, comfortable and relaxed. And much too attractive.
Sofia walked to the beginning of the hallway, stood listening for a second, and then closed the door that separated the living room.
“I just helped Mother to bed.” She walked to the kitchen and he followed.
“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting.” He stood at the door while she ret
rieved two glasses from the cupboard and placed them on a small tray.
She walked to the refrigerator. “You’re not. It’s perfect timing.” She held a pitcher and set it on the counter. “I was going out to the balcony. Do you want to join me for a glass?”
Did he ever. “That’ll be great.”
The balcony was wide and it spanned half the width of her apartment. A cluster of clay pots with herbs and flowers hugged the wall to one side and two chairs sat side by side near the sliding door. Sofia held the tray in front of him and he took a glass, then she grabbed one for herself and set the tray on the tile floor. He sipped. Lemonade.
She inhaled deeply, her attention turned to the sunset. The colors warmed her face and lent streaks of gold to her hair, and her eyes reflected the orange in the sky. His fingers itched to pick up his camera and photograph her.
“Long day?”
She nodded. “Yeah, just a little bit too long.”
How she did it all, he had no idea. The admiration swelled in his chest. What would it be like to share in her problems and end their days side by side like this? What a thought, what a crazy thought.
She turned the glass in her hand. “What have you been up to?”
Josh leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Finished up some projects, and got an invitation for another one.”
“You’re going out of town again?”
Not if he could help it. “Right here in Braga, actually.”
Sofia’s attention perked up and she straightened in her chair. “Really? What kind of job is it?”
“The hotel chain Solaris Group. They asked me for a quote for an event and the advertising for it.”
“That sounds like fun. Their hotels are gorgeous, and expensive too.” Sofia set down the glass and pulled her legs up, crossing them.
“It’s the hotel on the hill, by the Bom-Jesus.” It was a restored mansion from the turn of the eighteenth century.
“That one is amazing, and it must have the best views of the city,” she said, retrieving her glass.
The Secret Life of Daydreams Page 14
