by J. S. Brent
Dyanela.
Cortes. She turned around and like the fluttering of birds was immediately by his side, embracing him. He kissed her head and laughed.
Alicia smiled, most satisfied.
***
He was already old and when he learned of Alicia Ancheta’s escape from captivity in his warehouse. He became older, still. But his fist clenched in a young man’s grip. It unclenched and gave him a private sense of relief.
He would take a much more forceful reprisal, the next time. He promised that to himself.
He always kept promises he gave to himself and his family.
The old Mexican sun soldered the sky before it went down for the night.
A Red, Red Rose for Dyanela
In the beginning, for that was how it all started, he had nothing to do. Now he had plenty to do. There were trips to the grocery, dishes to wash, food to cook, trash to take out, his mother to take care of and Dyanela.
Cortes Ancheta, CEO of Ancheta Companies left the order of his affairs in his head office at Silicone Valley to his Associate CEO. He monitored them from his own private home office in LA where he decided to stay for a while. He had, after all, a woman to woo into marriage.
He was a Latino who rose into power and wealth by turning an old tech company to burnished greatness. His sagacity almost led to his downfall, when his mother, Alicia Ancheta was kidnapped by the drug cartel from Mexico.
Dyanela, a Filipina, was a psychic from the island of Siquijor who led him to find his mother by the power of her visions. He had fallen in love with her in the process. Now she was here with him in a secret house in LA.
He caught her, smelling his used shirt before tossing it into the washing machine. He sneaked up on her and allowed his hands to fondle her breasts beneath the shirt she wore.
She moaned and swayed.
Her eyes closed feeling him there and became wet.
She turned towards him, zipped off her square box shorts and slid on the floor with him. He kissed her passionately on the mouth while he was on top of her. The bubbles from the washing machine was the only insistent reminder they had to stop. But he would not stop. She was insatiable. He thrust inside her and she met him in every way. Bubbles streamed on to them, they felt wet inside and outside. They moved with fluid insistence that could not be denied.
Dyanela left everything behind; the island, the Philippine islands, her culture and her past. Cortes was often curious how she felt about it. She seemed happy enough. But he knew the house could feel restricting, at times. He was a man who had always been alone and now he had drawn her within his most inner circle where, he was embarrassed to say there was no one else but him and, perhaps, a constant mirror to check if he was still in control of everything.
He wasn’t in control. She was, unwittingly.
They swum in the pool on certain nights, beneath the moonlight and he would follow the course of her vision. He would find her staring about after she surfaced from a swim and she seemed like a child bewildered and confused over where she was. He often wondered if she liked what she saw, where she was and if not, what he could do about it. He always assumed she was, because that was how women were, when they came in contact with him.
He gave her presents. Another diamond set, the finest South Sea pearls, dresses, shoes, perfumes. She had taken a liking to wearing shorts and tee shirts around the house. Often she had nothing on beneath them. He would take her anywhere, anytime. Like a trapped animal she would not move, for he would say: be still, and he would enter her. He would bite into her flesh and she would moan in pain. In these moments, Dyanela could not understand how she felt. She could not understand it although ultimately she was happy with him.
Dyanela missed the breeze, the island breeze whipping across her face and the tender lovemaking they had back then. This felt different, as though he had taken a picture of her and framed her.
They were turning into animals, without decency. She thought, marriage would not change anything, only trap them into a net where there could be no escape from each other. There was a certain darkening in him now which she felt he could sense her need for something else; her freedom.
Dyanela had an abstract notion of what freedom was. It wasn’t being away from him. It was being with him, but happy and not obsessively clawing at each others’ flesh. They had the freedom of time. He wanted something. He wanted to claim her body, mind and soul. She forgave him for this, because she loved him and it really did seem as though it was his first time to love someone and was drowning in it, unable to surface, not knowing how to swim.
To help him swim, Dyanela realized she needed the help of someone who knew him, from the very roots of his beginning, his mother, Alicia Ancheta, who was just about the house watching the two lovers in a seeming quarrel.
Yes, the children were quarreling, Alicia decided and thought the poor girl was suffocating. I will do something about it.
That night, after a delicious supper of crabs with red pepper prepared by Dyanela, Alicia sought out her son in the veranda overlooking the pool.
“Cortes.” She called.
“Mama.” Cortes turned around. He was drinking whisky. It was a habit when he was particularly bothered by something.
Alicia knew her son’s habits. This was going to be easily remedied, she thought with a sparkle of amusement in her eyes.
“I am taking Dyanela shopping tomorrow. We will buy clothes, groceries and best of all books. Dios mia, that girl is starved for intellectual stimulation. She only has the cable tv and that damned lonely,movie theatre you have.”
“Do as you will, mama.” He grunted and downed another whisky.
“I know it’s hard for you to be with someone who, well,’ she rubbed her hands, “shall we say, has a will of her own. I used to scare the wits out of your papa when we’d swim in the sea and I wouldn’t come up the water.”
“What are you talking about mama. I’m fine.” He slurred. “She’s free to do anything she wants.”
“I think that girl should be in school.” Alicia said calmly.
“You know, it’s not safe yet mama. The police said so, There could still be some problem. We are all not safe. I would go out of the house too if I could. I’m so tired of being here forever.” He yawned and stretched his arms above his head. He seemed particularly comforted by the fact that his mother was handling the situation with Dyanela. He was getting impatient with the woman. He knew that she knew what he wanted, that damned ring in his mother’s finger formally and possessively transferred and locked down on Dyanela’s finger. She just kept saying it wasn’t the right time yet and smile in that obscure smile of hers.
After his conversation with his mother, he sluggishly went up the stairs towards their bedroom. He thought Dyanela was asleep. He started talking to her in the dark.
I do love you Dyanela. I don’t want to hurt you. I - - I just want to know if you love me too. I have needs and you opened the door to make me recognize that I have those needs. I need you to love me.
Dyanela opened her eyes. Her back was to him so he couldn’t see that she was awake and that she heard every word he said.
***
The following morning, Alicia brought Dyanela to an old haunt in LA’s Latino quarters. It was the dime-a-twenty bookstore where she used to buy books when she was still raising Luisito there.
She used to be a housekeeper for a large mansion owned by a doctor and his mistress. She kept her peace by respecting their privacy, their love and minding her own goddam business. She read voraciously instead.
Dyanela ran her fingers over the top of books displayed and wished she could read all of them. This was what she wanted to do, she realized. To read books was a recognition Cortes opened to her when they started a relationship just as she opened him to the possibility of love.
She picked the memorable Love In The Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. She asked for Filipino authors and was given State of Wa
r by Ninotchka Rosca and Sky Over Dimas by Vicente Garcia Groyon.
Alicia studied the cover of the Filipino books and rifled through them. She smiled. The child was going to prove amazing. She further bought her books by Carlos Fuentes and Out of Africa by Isak Dinesen. She also bought her a brand new laptop which Dyanela refused saying it was too much of her.
“Write it all down, Dyanela. Write about us.” She insisted and Dyanela broke into tears. She embraced the young woman from an unknown island in the Philippines. She knew what she was going through and found that words would only be superfluous. She simply made her promise to lend her the Filipino books she bought.
***
When they returned home, Dyanela set up the laptop in the room and opened Word. She remembered computer lessons Cortes gave to her and started typing. She wrote about a typhoon that raged in their island and how a fisherman traversed the sea between Dumaguete and Siquijor to rescue his wife and mother. He brought them safely to the mainland of Dumaguete where there was a Storm Shelter.
Thousands of people perished in the storm. She wrote. But the people stood resilient before a clear rainbow that brightened the sky after the storm.
Cortes entered the room and lay down in bed. He was exhausted from having been inside his office all day analyzing the momentum of his stocks. They had proportionally risen for some reason he could only account from the fact that everyone knew about his rescue of his mother. Their dramatic entry to US territory was shown on various news on TV. He didn’t know how to digest it all in but one thing he made certain was that Dyanela was to be out of media exposure for as long as possible. He didn’t want her endangered. He would marry her in secret in the meantime and when the time was right, introduce her to the world as his chosen wife. Their little day trip today may have sabotaged his plans of secrecy but she had become irrepressible. Now, Dyanela had her back to him and was typing away at the desk of their room busy about something else.
God, he was jealous of a laptop.
He stood up, walked towards the woman he loved and wrapped his arms about her. Her face turned towards him and reached for his lips. He kissed her passionately, lifted her up and brought her to bed.
That night, they simply kissed and kissed and kissed in every part of each other’s body.
***
The following morning, Cortes bought a red sportscar and drove Dyanela to the nearest beach. Dyanela wore a blue, floral dress that fluttered above her knees due to the sea breeze. She laughed at Cortes’s antics. He was so animated and invigorated with life.
They tossed stones into the water and played tag before falling into each other’s arms. They dropped into the sand and kissed.
It wasn’t long before reporters had gotten hold of news that Cortes Ancheta had taken a lover and was parading her in town. There were photos of them in the front page of newspapers. They could not trace who she was, but she was beautiful.
Cortes took her to a seaside restaurant where they were ogled at as they ate dinner. Dyanela was so embarrassed she looked down at her food for most of the time. She didn’t realize the extent of how this would all seem to the outside world, not until he had brought her out.
Cortes understood her embarrassment and took her outside past the crowd of paparazzi.
They entered the car and Cortes drove down the old Latino quarters. He parked the car and watched the monster. The monster was a glittering jumble of odd, cluster of houses in various Mexican colors. Dyanela stood beside him and braced herself. She felt the conflicting chill and heat of LA. He dropped down on one knee as though weakened by the sight of it. Dyanela kneeled beside him and kissed him tenderly.
This is where I grew up, he said hoarsely through her hair.
Dyanela held him and looked at the houses.
Cortes, look. It’s just houses. They will not eat you. Learn to love where you came from and they will love you back. Love has its way of leading you home.
They held each other for a long while.
***
Dyanela woke up from a dark dream. It was another vision that was more insidious because it sneaked from under her. They were going to take her. A black gloved hand clamped over her mouth and nose. In the dream, she couldn’t breathe.
They were coming and she couldn’t do anything about it.
She couldn’t tell Cortes but Cortes noticed she had become quiet when they met during mealtimes. Alicia was animated all throughout their meals.
This time, Dyanela gave him a present. She gave him a dark, red rose. Cortes was surprised. He didn’t expect it and asked her where she got it.
I went shopping this morning and found a flower shop with an assortment of flowers. I liked it. It’s a very strong flower Cortes. Press it inside a book and never forget you placed it there.
That night, Cortes came to her mother who was inside her room watching tv. He knelt beside her and laid his head on her lap. Alicia brushed her son’s head and knew it was time.
Alicia pulled out the ring from her finger and sighed before giving it to her son. Cortes received it in the palm of his hand and kissed his mother’s hand in return.
You shouldn’t have brought her out of the house. Alicia said in a hushed tone because they both knew the consequences.
I love her mama. He explained helplessly.
He stood up and sought for Dyanela.
Dyanela was nowhere to be found.
***
Dyanela had carefully pulled off the plug of the security camera over the swimming pool. She went to the pool, took off her dress and plunged into the water naked.
She swum for about a few minutes. The pool darkened about her. Men in black frogsuits swum and grappled her in the water. They pulled her out of the pool with them and wrapped her in a towel. They injected her in the neck and she fell limp on them.
They had time to change into dark outfits. They carried her body out the front door and shot the security men whom they had promised a bribe. They had gotten along with them until they realized in the final minute that they had no life to speak of.
Dyanela was placed in the back of a van. They tried to be cold and looked at her with much control. The woman had nothing on but a towel. They cannot touch her or they would die as well. That was understood.
They drove to an airstrip and a plane was waiting for them. Dyanela was transferred from the van to the plane in minutes. The door of the plane lifted and sealed her inside.
The plane ran the length of the airstrip and took off.
***
Dyanela was awake but it took her time before she could open her eyes. Everything seemed askew. Blurred shapes began to take distinct features. She realized she was in another plane. She also realized she was still naked, beneath a sheet that covered her entirety.
She saw a blue silk dress laid on a chair beside her. She sat up gingerly and rubbed her eyes. It became clearer. She looked about her and realized she was in a room. It was all done in cream. She removed the sheet, pulled the dress and slipped into it.
Barefoot, she walked to a door, opened it and saw herself in another part of the plane. This time there were windows open that let the sunlight in. There was no one in the room except for a man at the end of the room. His hair was white, his skin the color of gold and he wore white as well. His moustache was white. He had a cane but he seemed independent from it.
Come, senorita. Do not be frightened. He beckoned her.
Dyanela, wide eyed and bewildered, approached him. She still felt naked and vulnerable with her bare feet stepping closer and closer to the old man. The carpet was thick and luxurious beneath her feet.
The old man wore a white, formal suit. He had a big, red rose in his lapel. There was a white hat on the table. The old man lifted the hat and placed it squarely on his head.
Dyanela sat before him. She thought of the cane. It had a silver snake on top that glared at her straight with its mouth open to reveal sharp fangs that threatened its beholder. It looked heavy. She could take
the cane in one clean swoop from him and dig the fangs into the old man’s neck. As she thought this out, she tried to appear calm by placing her hands primly together. She listened to him.
“I am called The Rose and yes I am bragging to you because to complete the name with my face is equal to looking at the face of god,” he claimed, “after sweet, excruciating hours of pain that would only lead you to seek the end of it.”
“Then why am I still alive?” she asked. “Kill me now. I do not want pain.”
“In time.” He said sadly.
***
Cortes went to their bedroom. He opened it gently with a quivering hand.
The room was lit by a single lamp by the bed. On the bed was the blue dress of Dyanela, laid out like gift before him.
She’s still alive, Cortes realized calculating, not daring to breathe a sigh of relief.
He, and Cortes was certain it was a man he was dealing with, is staking his own life to play a chess game with him. The man is in love with Dyanela and wants her for himself. But she is mine and wants to kill us. This was the narration of the blue dress and could not do anything about it.
But he was a man in love as well. They were on equal ground. The man, and he would be old, was someone at the end of his life to want her so badly, Cortes continued to calculate. The old man is giving him the chance to redeem her with Cortes’s clever mind that made him so great. He is opening a line of dialogue with him. He would play devil in a white suit, Cortes thought, and I would play god.
The old man was conservative, Catholic ,very religious and does not sit well with the way Cortes had played his life so far, feeling like a god on his techno throne. Not until now that he has found Dyanela and has begun to question his existence against the backdrop of love. His passion for Dyanela turned him into a mortal.
